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<\|description\|>Will Fleeter Age: 10 Appearance: Years in the Academy: This would be his first. Ancestors: Not a relative of any of the previous Avengers... to his best knowledge. Powers/Abilities: Will defies the laws of friction and gravity, meaning he can slide across rough surfaces as if they were ice, run up vertical walls, and hang upside-down indefinitely without succumbing to displaced blood. He can also jump really high, but can't actually fly. Bio: Will was born to a 20 year old prostitute in Tel Aviv, Israel. Naturally his mother wasn't the one to name him. He didn't actually have a name until he was briefly adopted at six months old, only to be sent back into the wards of state. With his mother being unwilling to raise the child and his father being an untraceable mystery, the baby was sent from orphanage to orphanage for a while before somehow winding up in the United States foster care system. By this point he was almost seven years old, and the lack of stability of his situation was starting to wear down on him. He had a few really bad experiences in the foster system, mostly getting picked on by the other kids in the system. That's when he learned to keep his head down and plaster a fake smile on his face, hoping that would make all his problems go away. That's when the Fleeters come in. A young married couple with no children of their own decided to foster Will, only to realize that being a parent of a young child was more work than they were prepared for. Instead of sending Will back into the system, they started to neglect him, leaving him alone in the house for days on end while they continued to live their lives as if they had no children. Will started falling behind in school, but nobody ever found out about it because his parents just didn't care. Around the age of nine and a half, he started to notice that he had some weird abilities. He could run straight up vertical surfaces as if he were an insect, defy the laws of friction to move faster. It was as if the earth's gravitational pull had no effect on the limits of what he could do. His parents never noticed, but the school staff definitely did. Doing some background research, it was decided that the most likely cause of his powers was that his father was an alien or superhuman of some kind. Since his mother was a prostitute who by no means kept track of her clientele, his father's real identity is virtually indecipherable. But some part of Will's genetics carries some strange abilities. As to why they manifested so late, it's impossible to tell without his father's identity. As it stands, very little is known about Will's potential. So for the meantime, he's been sent here to try and hone and perfect his abilities, and to see exactly what the limits are on what he can do. Family/Relationships?: Will is a foster child. He has no permanent family. His current 'parents' are not necessarily abusive, but they are extremely neglectful and absentminded. The good side of this is that he can do whatever he wants without getting into trouble with his parental authorities, but it also means he's without an important source of support. James Victor Rodgers James protected Will from the rocket, but they haven't actually spoken Mark Westbrook Stranger Annabelle Boltagon Stranger Vix Stranger Charlotte Rhodes Stranger Richard Parker Stranger Alex Kinney Stranger Weapons: Sometimes he'll carry a knife or two with him, but has no special or supernatural weaponry. Personality: Will does his best to be courteous to everyone and is by no means a reckless risk taker. He values his own safety and the safety of others, even if he is going in for a potentially dangerous job. While not overly ambitious, he is curious and likes to explore and learn things. He's not always the best at carrying on conversations and can sometimes be a bit awkward in social situations.Despite being highly sensitive, he rarely shows negative emotions in front of other people and is a bit of a 'Stepford Smiler'. On some level, he feels like his peers only like him if he acts friendly and affable all the time, like he's not really allowed to have feelings. Will seems to hate being touched, especially by people he doesn't know. Occasionally he will tolerate small amounts of physical contact from friends, be he will never seek it out himself. At heart, Will is an optimist. He really does believe that everything will turn out right in the end if he's careful not to slip up. Other: -Will speaks with a Midwestern American accent -He is anemic and hypoglycemic, meaning he has low levels of iron and blood sugar. Neither of these conditions are terribly life threatening, but they can occasionally be problematic if they cause him to pass out unexpectedly. -In his spare time, Will enjoys drawing and learning to play fiddle. -He wears gloves at all times, both the normal and fingerless varieties. Nobody really knows why.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will Fleeter A decrepit, ugly grey station wagon pulled up several yards away from the entrance to the massive campus. As soon as its young passenger climbed out, the driver slammed the door at took off, leaving the small boy abandoned and staring up in awe at his new school. The boy's big brown eyes took in every inch of the gargantuan buildings and strange, futuristic architectural design. It was rather intimidating, actually. He'd never been here before, and had never imagined it would be this large. Were superhuman abilities so common they needed all this space to house the students? Impossible. He hesitantly picked up his old leather suitcase that was so ancient it looked like an antique, and walked into the campus. The Israeli boy had a strange way of walking. He sort of glided a bit, as if his shoes had no friction. He walked quickly, stiffly and with apprehension. He entered the main building, hoping someone could direct him to the dorms. A security guard showed him up to his room, a tiny little space that he was certain was a repurposed closet. It was comfortable enough, with its blue bed and carpet, old couch and small television. He put down his suitcase, and locked the door to the room, wanting to do some exploring before he got to unpacking. Even though he wasn't hungry (on the contrary, he felt rather sick to his stomach), he made his way down to the cafeteria. That was where most of the other students were, and where he was probably supposed to be. He looked around shyly, seeing that there were no empty tables. He'd have to ask someone if he could sit with them. Og, crud... he thought, losing his nerve and deciding to skip breakfast and leave the cafeteria. It was around then he realized exactly how long the drive up had been, and that he really needed to find a bathroom. All the more reason to leave now.</s> <\|message\|>James Victor Rogers James stepped out of his dorm room nice and clean, wearing a pair of worn jeans, some training shoes, a gray t-shirt with a dark blue canvas jacket, and on his back was his triangular shield given to him by his grandpa Rogers. For six years James has been trying to do the best he possibly could. He loved his family, and loved that he came from a line of heroes, but that isn't why he was here. He wanted to help people, it was in his blood. He could never turn away from a fight, especially if people needed help somewhere. It proved to be challenging at times though, here at school. People either feared or respected him because of who his grandparents were, and who his mom was... James was quick to anger whenever someone used his family to try and insult him, and that usually ended in the other students going to the Academy's nurse/emergency room. He wasn't perfect, but he like he said, he was trying. James made it to the cafeteria to see it already packed. Scanning the room he had to smile a bit. His grandparents would tell James about how humans and superhumans never fully got along until recently. There were many kids at this school who had no true powers, but they had a lot give. He saw familiar faces, he gave smiles and nods to those who called over at him, and he was about to go grab some breakfast until he heard a lard crash and a "LOOK OUT!" James turned to see what seemed to be a little "project-gone-wrong" flying through the cafeteria. Screams and shrieks filled the room as the rocket-like object soared with incredible speed, right at a very young looking kid. James without hesitation ran and vaulted over a table, taking the shield off his back. James stood in front of the kid, shield drawn and as soon as the rocket came at him, he swatted it away with a metallic "Ting!". "Hey!! Heads up!" James yelled as the rocket flew away from the crowd upwards. He knew someone in this cafeteria had the power to fully stop the thing.</s> <\|message\|>Mark Westbrook Mark was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, as well as a plain leather jacket as he waited in line for food. He kept the collar in the back a bit higher then normal to hide the plate that was his inactive symbiote. He didn't like to stand out. Gathering a good helping of eggs and bacon, he made his way to his usual quiet table in the corner. There were a few people he recognized and waved to, but Mark still preferred his solitude. He didn't do to well in social situations. It was one of the reasons why few people knew he was in the Next Avengers program to begin with. Hell, not many people had seen his symbiote in action, honestly. Mark was about halfway through his breakfast when he heard the crash. Suddenly looking up from his food, he saw an odd rocket looking device come barraling through the cafeteria. He cringed as it looked about to hit one of the younger students, but breathed a sigh of relief when James Rogers came out of no where and batted it out of nowhere. Mark had certainly heard of James Rogers. After all, who hadn't at the academy? Still, it was another thing to actually see him in action. He shook himself from his surprise, noticing that no one had actually solved the rocket problem. "Dammit. So much for blending in," Mark muttered under his breath. If no one else was stepping in, than he would have to. "Euclid, I need suit, jets, and whips." As he ran forward, the liquid metal from his plate shot around his body like a sort of cocoon, before skin and metal molded together into his suit. Getting to a clear space in the cafeteria, away from the panicking crowds, Mark began to grow two small thrusters from his back, and long, thin metal strands shot out of his wrists. Kicking off the ground, Mark flew above the center of the cafeteria, and threw his whips at the rocket. As they wrapped around, Mark made a movement with his wrists, causing small blades to pop out and latch onto the rocket. Pulling back as hard as he could, he managed to keep the rocket from hitting another group of students near one of the tables. But even though he was holding it in place, this was hardly a permanent solution. "I've got it.....I think," he said loudly over the roar of the rocket. "Some help would be nice though. Please?"</s>	<\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will was just on his way out of the cafeteria when a scream ran through the room, and the next thing he knew someone bolted in front of him protectively and smacked a rocket like object away from the two of them. Will was shocked, not really knowing what had just happened. He stuttered a bit, but said nothing, backing away slowly as if cornered by predatory animals. It was clear that these kids had much, much more powerful and dangerous abilities than his. His little gravity-defying tricks were cool and all, but some kid over there just summoned a suit out of nothing. He was way out of his league, and now he knew it. Will usually hated to show negative emotions like fear, but this time he'd been caught by surprise and his little act was slipping. His tanned skin had gone pale, and he was shivering and clearly hyperventilating a bit. He now stood a few feet away from the boy who'd protected him, trying to regain his composure. As much as he hated to admit it, Will was a bit jumpy and easy to startle. Some kid asked for help controlling the rocket, and the 10 year old knew he'd be unable to assist. His powers worked great for things like self defense, but when it came to attacks and protecting others, they were virtually useless. Besides, he'd only had his powers for about six months. He was still getting the hang of using them. Maybe they'd be more useful when he was older, like these kids were.</s>
<\|description\|>Will Fleeter Age: 10 Appearance: Years in the Academy: This would be his first. Ancestors: Not a relative of any of the previous Avengers... to his best knowledge. Powers/Abilities: Will defies the laws of friction and gravity, meaning he can slide across rough surfaces as if they were ice, run up vertical walls, and hang upside-down indefinitely without succumbing to displaced blood. He can also jump really high, but can't actually fly. Bio: Will was born to a 20 year old prostitute in Tel Aviv, Israel. Naturally his mother wasn't the one to name him. He didn't actually have a name until he was briefly adopted at six months old, only to be sent back into the wards of state. With his mother being unwilling to raise the child and his father being an untraceable mystery, the baby was sent from orphanage to orphanage for a while before somehow winding up in the United States foster care system. By this point he was almost seven years old, and the lack of stability of his situation was starting to wear down on him. He had a few really bad experiences in the foster system, mostly getting picked on by the other kids in the system. That's when he learned to keep his head down and plaster a fake smile on his face, hoping that would make all his problems go away. That's when the Fleeters come in. A young married couple with no children of their own decided to foster Will, only to realize that being a parent of a young child was more work than they were prepared for. Instead of sending Will back into the system, they started to neglect him, leaving him alone in the house for days on end while they continued to live their lives as if they had no children. Will started falling behind in school, but nobody ever found out about it because his parents just didn't care. Around the age of nine and a half, he started to notice that he had some weird abilities. He could run straight up vertical surfaces as if he were an insect, defy the laws of friction to move faster. It was as if the earth's gravitational pull had no effect on the limits of what he could do. His parents never noticed, but the school staff definitely did. Doing some background research, it was decided that the most likely cause of his powers was that his father was an alien or superhuman of some kind. Since his mother was a prostitute who by no means kept track of her clientele, his father's real identity is virtually indecipherable. But some part of Will's genetics carries some strange abilities. As to why they manifested so late, it's impossible to tell without his father's identity. As it stands, very little is known about Will's potential. So for the meantime, he's been sent here to try and hone and perfect his abilities, and to see exactly what the limits are on what he can do. Family/Relationships?: Will is a foster child. He has no permanent family. His current 'parents' are not necessarily abusive, but they are extremely neglectful and absentminded. The good side of this is that he can do whatever he wants without getting into trouble with his parental authorities, but it also means he's without an important source of support. James Victor Rodgers James protected Will from the rocket, but they haven't actually spoken Mark Westbrook Stranger Annabelle Boltagon Stranger Vix Stranger Charlotte Rhodes Stranger Richard Parker Stranger Alex Kinney Stranger Weapons: Sometimes he'll carry a knife or two with him, but has no special or supernatural weaponry. Personality: Will does his best to be courteous to everyone and is by no means a reckless risk taker. He values his own safety and the safety of others, even if he is going in for a potentially dangerous job. While not overly ambitious, he is curious and likes to explore and learn things. He's not always the best at carrying on conversations and can sometimes be a bit awkward in social situations.Despite being highly sensitive, he rarely shows negative emotions in front of other people and is a bit of a 'Stepford Smiler'. On some level, he feels like his peers only like him if he acts friendly and affable all the time, like he's not really allowed to have feelings. Will seems to hate being touched, especially by people he doesn't know. Occasionally he will tolerate small amounts of physical contact from friends, be he will never seek it out himself. At heart, Will is an optimist. He really does believe that everything will turn out right in the end if he's careful not to slip up. Other: -Will speaks with a Midwestern American accent -He is anemic and hypoglycemic, meaning he has low levels of iron and blood sugar. Neither of these conditions are terribly life threatening, but they can occasionally be problematic if they cause him to pass out unexpectedly. -In his spare time, Will enjoys drawing and learning to play fiddle. -He wears gloves at all times, both the normal and fingerless varieties. Nobody really knows why.</s> <\|message\|>Vix As mr. Laan accepted the proposition about more training and started to pair them up Vix opted against playing a game because of boredom. As her name came up she was pleased that she was paired up with Charlotte. It was a opportunity to get to know the girl personally. She moved up to Charlotte and smiled. "Vix. Nice we are paired up. I heard about you from uncle Tony." She started moving her hair a bit more over her forehead. They started walking with everyone else towards the training room. "He approves your music taste. " Vix commented lightly, her computer mind replaying the video memory of it. It was a fond memory for Vix as it happened shortly after the discovery of her failure, malfunction. His way of distracting her. "If you get to use your armor you should give me your channel so I can connect to you. For communication and strategy proposes." As they came in the room and were directed to their section they would have their teamwork out, Vix took a deep breath, trying to kill any process that will not be useful for the task ahead. To have a clear head. It was clear to Vix that if there were a leader in the team it would be Charlotte as she was longer in the school, and in the program as well. It was Vix first day in the advance program. That aside she started to replay the exercise she was taught during the last year. Calm content and she felt weightless, raising a few inches from the ground before she landed. That worked, she allowed herself to feel frustrated and she felt her mass increase. A second later she returned back to apathy that hold her as close to battle ready as she figured. She hoped really badly that the trigger feelings will not change during the simulation. As it appeared they would run the track beside each other, the two white hallways in front of them didnt look any different at first glance. The wall they shared was made out of glass which would allow them to see each other. Vix looked at Charlotte, raising an eyebrow to indicate that she should pick between the left or right hallway first.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will stiffened in surprise as Mr. Lang spoke to him. His gaze flitted to the floor and he blushed when Mr. Lang jokingly requested that he not pee on the floor. The older man was rather perceptive, but given that he was the second person to point out that he'd noticed, maybe Will was just being too damn obvious. He strained to stop fidgeting, biting his fingernails anxiously in a last-ditch attempt to take his mind off of things. Lang's female assistant gave a piece of news he had dreaded hearing. This was his first class. There was no way he'd be getting excused anytime soon. Internally panicking, Will dropped to the back of the group as they filed out towards the obstacle course. Now he had even more reasons to be drowning in anxiety. Partner activities were the worst. Having someone else rely on you when you were the least competent person in the whole room was a sickening thought. He continued to say nothing, glancing up at his partner with an apologetic sort of look. If Mark got mad at him for being a bad partner, he decided he wouldn't retaliate. Then again, Will wasn't really giving himself enough credit. He didn't really know what these people could do, he only assumed it was better than what he could do. In actuality, his ability was far from pathetic and he had remarkably good control over it for someone who'd only had it for less than a year. But in his mind, he imagined that because he was a beginner in an advanced course, he'd just end up making a fool of himself and making Mr. Lang regret ever giving him a chance.</s> <\|message\|>Mark Westbrook Mark largely kept quiet as James gave his "big heroic speech". IF they wanted to make a big thing of this, fine, but Mark just wanted to get to work. Too much drama over some stupid prank. Hearing that Will was in their class was a surprise, though. Mark hoped that Mr. Lang knew what he was doing. He figured that he would be put in a group with James. Seeing as he was the boy-scout and all, James would make a good mentor for the first exercise. This was precisely why Mark was so surprised to hear that HE would be paired with Will. Mark wasn't very good at the "social" thing, and wasn't sure if he was the best fit to show the new kid the ropes. As everyone filed off towards the obstacle courses, Mark was about to protest to Mr. Lang. Before he got anywhere, though, he saw Will give him an apologetic look. Mark couldn't help but be reminded of his own first year at the academy, before he got a handle on his powers. He felt Euclid give a nudge of curiosity at his indecision, before he had an idea. This wasn't going to go the same way. Mark wouldn't let history repeat itself. Putting on a confident look, Mark walked over. "You're Will, right? I'm Mark. There's a bathroom on the way to the arenas, but make it fast. And don't worry. We all have awkward first days." Mark waited for Will to prepare himself, and motioned for Will to move a little faster to catch up with the group when he finished. Before they stepped in their course, Mark spoke up again. "Ok, crash course before we go in. Abilities. Short version; I have a suit that gives me speed, strength, flight, and is really good for fights. What do you have?" Mark felt Euclid bristle with anger at being called a "suit", but he ignored it. He could fill in the details later.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will's eyes showed a small gleam of hope as Mark mentioned that they would pass by a bathroom on the way to the arena, but he just found himself locked into a conversation he felt obligated to finish before he just darted off. He forced a smile as he wracked his brain for the best way to explain his powers, coming up with nothing. His pause to think was starting to verge on an awkward silence so he just started blurting out everything that came to mind. "I can... stick to things. Kind of. I mean, like, you know how geckos can climb on ceilings and stuff? Yeah, that's what I can do. And, like, I can defy friction and slide across things. It's not really all that cool." Realizing he was starting to just babble pointlessly, he fell quiet, blushing a bit. He started walking a bit more stiffly, biting hard into his lower lip.</s> <\|message\|>James Victor Rogers James was now looking around the groups to make sure everyone was alright... People were discussing what their course of action is. Alex and Nao were discussing what to do. Knowing the guy, Alex was going to take lead on this. James also tried to make sure Will was alright where he was. He knew Mark wasn't the most sociable, and he hasn't been here the longest, but he was sure that the two would make it out alright. His thoughts were brought back to Anna as she started to talk. Ever since the two had met she had coined the term "Boy Scout" for him, and it stuck around campus... Although James couldn't complain he spent a lot of his childhood in the Boy Scouts... He mentally sighed to himself, thinking how cliche his parents were for signing him up for that. "I'm a little low on my cat saving quota this month so here's hoping. And remember, there's no award ceremony or a loving crowd waiting to get autographs from you after. James teased back, and then starting to stretch out his legs and arms. "This is strange. I know we've done a ton of obstacle courses like this before, but never on the first day. And never as random as these pairs..." The brown haired boy started, looking over at Anna. "We gotta stay on our toes. Especially for us. No doubt that Stark's database has us high up on their list considering who our grandparents are... I got your back. James meant that last part wholeheartedly. These courses were to push their limits. He had done these hundreds of times in his six years but for some reason he felt like he was a first year again, afraid of what was behind those doors.</s> <\|message\|>Mark Westbrook Mark started to process how he and Will could play off each other as he covered his powers. Sticking to walls was good. Mark could probably fly him around and get him to the ceiling to.....wait, DEFY FRICTION?! As he thought about that little development for a second, he noticed Will was still squirming. "Oh. Right. Bathroom is just over there. I'll wait here. Trust me, you don't want to do these courses with a full bladder." As Will used the bathroom quickly, Mark tried to strategize. This was only his second year in the program, but this looked like Will's first year in the SCHOOL. He would have to take charge here. Will was likely more agile then him, given the friction powers, so if Lang threw combat at them he could probably just dodge. That meant that Mark should probably prioritize any enemies they might find in there, and let Will focus on any buttons or targets or whatever. As Will came out of the bathroom, Mark stated "So, I don't know who told you defying a basic law of physics wasn't cool, but they clearly weren't an engineer. That sounds really useful. So here's the plan. If there are any targets or buttons we need to reach, I want you to focus on those. I'll take care of any enemies Lang decides to throw at us. Sound good?"</s>	<\|message\|>Will Fleeter "Sounds cool." Will said, sounding a bit less nervous now that they kind of had a basic plan. He still didn't think much of his chances, seeing as this program was far more advanced than whatever he was supposed to be taking, but at least they weren't going into this blind. He wasn't quite sure what Mark meant by enemies. Dodging obstacles and hitting targets was all fine and dandy, but somehow Will didn't like the sound of enemies. Was Mr. Lang trying to pick off the weaklings with some sort of gladiator-style fight to the death or something? Will wasn't sure he could handle that. He was good at staying out of the way and dodging things, but if he got into a fight he'd be down in 2 seconds flat. His powers weren't really geared towards combat.</s>
<\|description\|>Ben Poole Age: 18 Appearance: Civvie and Spiderman Beyond Years in the Academy: Six months Ancestors: Gwenpool (Mother) Powers/Abilities: He lacks any super powers, due to his mom not having powers of her own. However, when he inherited the title of Spiderman from Miles, he also inherited his web shooters, plus modifications to the suit to allow for web crawling (via super adhesive gloves) and a built in vibrator inside the mask that activates when danger is near to simulate Spider Sense. The suit can also allow him to camouflage. Bio: When Ben Poole was born, his mother had high hopes for him to be a super hero. So much hopes in fact, that she hired a professional, Wade Wilson, to set up a situation where Gwen is seemingly killed so that it could overwhelm Ben with so much duress that he'd become a superhero. It worked… but it traumatized Ben so much that he ran away from the alleyway that his mom "died" in and never looked back. However, he bumped into Miles Morales as Ultimate Spiderman, who was in the middle of apprehending a criminal. At the time, Miles had been considering retiring, since, even though he started his career as a teen, still felt the age that most other heroes went through. After hearing of what happened to his mother, Miles, being convinced that he needs to pass the torch, decided to teach Ben Poole how to be a hero. When it came time to pass the torch, Miles and Ben modified the suit to benefit Ben's lack of any spider powers. It took about a week of crime fighting before he got the eye of Tony Stark. After failing to stop a robber, Ben was approached by Tony Stark to master his craft of super heroing. And thus, Spiderman Beyond was born. Family/Relationships?: Miles Morales is a father figure to Ben and his mentor. Miles' relation to Ben's mother was… strained... Miles, however, taught Ben in the ways of being a hero in the hopes that he doesn't get as crazy as his mom. Weapons: The only weapon Ben has is that his gloves also have venomous stingers attached to them to simulate poisonous bites. Personality: Ben is timid and shy, only being assertive when he's in the Spiderman Beyond outfit. That said, he does have a lust for revenge that he kept hidden from Miles. This lust for revenge sometimes causes him to be more than assertive and act headstrong. Other: Has no idea his mom is still alive.</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Richie" Parker Richard jumped down from the drone and high fived Ben. He couldn't leave him hanging. Spider pun not intended. He followed the others to the Hall of Heroes and looked around. No matter how many times he entered this building he was always fascinated. It was like each time he entered he noticed and took in something new. It seemed that others were already here when they arrived. Including Vix. The start of their friendship wa a crazy one. You wouldn't even think they'd become friends after that. She didn't seem to notice him at first and before he could get her attention Scott Lang came on the scene. Or Mr. Lang. By the way he interrupted James, Richard figured that he was probably upset if even just mildly so. When he asked if they enjoyed the show and what happened Richie just shook his head. "I was actually late to the whole thing." Though considering how lax the school seemed with weapons and technology out in the open on campus he was surprised that there weren't accidents more frequently. Dealing with a few accidents a day every day would actually be some good training. Maybe he should try and set that up. Get the more accident prone students to do what they do best. Soon the young wall crawler was lost in thought. He soon remembered where he was and noticed Vix waving at him. He smiled and waved back. This was already getting boring fast. He walked over to Mr. Lang and wrapped his arm around him like they were old pals. "No one got hurt. Well, no one except for James over there and he... you know. You must've asked them here for more than just asking what happened, right? Come on. Get to the good stuff."</s> <\|message\|>Alex Kinney Alex watched the group when Scott Lang showed up talking about some 'incident' that happened mere moments ago. He listened for a bit then inserted himself in the conversation, "Come on Mr. Lang. We all know the school has state-of-the-art tech. Is there any real reason to ask these guys when you can just watch some footage. It's the first day. Someone probably just got to anxious or nervous working on some sort of project then lost focus. As long as no one got hurt there is no reason to hold up class. So, please sir." In truth if it hadn't been for the fact that this would hold up his day Alex probably wouldn't have said anything. He looked around at the small group gathered around. A few faces he knew a few he didn't. Alex wasn't the most sociable guy around so most had no clue he even existed unless they were apart of the Next Avengers Program where he was one of the best fighters. He also offered his skills as a sparing partner to anyone who needed it due to his powers. Not many took up the offer though since not many people even know of this offer. Either way he was most likely going to know these people very well soon if he didn't already.</s> <\|message\|>Mark Westbrook Mark took stock of the situation as everyone else made sure no one was hurt. Not being much of a people person, he focused himself on making sure no dangerous compounds were released by the rocket. Mark felt an odd itching sensation in his eyes as Euclid took over his optical senses. After a cursory scan, he was certain there weren't any harmful compounds released by the rocket. Return Euclid to its inactive state, he noticed Mr. Lang had sent a security drone to collect them. Great. His first day back and there was already problems. Not one to engage in conversation, he kept quiet as he made his way to the Hall of Heroes. Mark noticed a number of other students he recognized from the Next Avengers Program also making their way to the Hall. Keeping to the rear, he followed them all in to meet with Mr. Lang. As everyone answered his questions, Mark kept quiet in the back. They could all sum up what happened. He figured he'd just wait until it was time for class.</s> <\|message\|>James Victor Rogers Everyone had a say on what happened in the cafeteria, and the more everyone spoke the more Lang seemed to be a bit irritated. James was wondering what he was getting at, and why exactly he was asking. Like everyone said, it was caught on cameras all over the place. phones, security cameras, drones on the scene... Before James could get his explanation, he interrupted everyone. "Yes, yes, I get it, a ton of cameras, no one was hurt, that's fine and all, but that's not what I'm asking. A floating screen flew into the room, showing the the "highlights" of the whole situation this morning. "Like Mr. Parker said, I'm not an idiot who doesn't know how to look online to the top trending youtube video this morning. Uncoordination, reckless leaps of faith, waiting to join in until absolutely necessary! What kind of team works like that? Rogers, I'm guessing you were praying for someone to grab that rocket before it blew up on the ceiling and killed a ton of students? Miss Rhodes, jumping on to the damn thing could have triggered something in the already malfunctioning rocket! and Poole just stood there watching the thing! The only real good thing you remembered was listening to the grandson of Steve Rogers, and working together to stop the debris... So, I ask again. What happened?" "With all due respect, sir, Grandpa Rogers told me stories of how the founding members couldn't seem to cooperate well at first... We're still trying our best. Mark took the initiative after I swatted the rocket away... Nao, Charlotte, and everyone worked together to keep any other students from getting hurt or involved because we are still trying to figure ourselves out and everyone else. We'll do better next time." James' fist was clenched the whole time. He knew Scott Lang knew what he was talking about, but yelling at everyone for being in a school to learn how to use their powers because they didn't cooperate was a bit unfair. "Very poetic, James... Just like your granddad. I don't need the speech. You are all... well, almost all he glanced at Will "are the next generation to take the mantle of heroes. We can't let miscommunication be the reason the world ends... You did well, but you need to do better! Any Questions?"</s> <\|message\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes So it was a chewing out. That little step that Charlotte had taken was immediately undone as Lang went off. Yes, James should have started the action and called in some people to direct it out first. However, it was when the man mentioned Charlotte that she looked down. They were in the advanced training program, yeah, but they were still learning the rights and wrongs of how to act. All of that was a learned experience, if Charlotte's grandfather had told her anything about rising to be a hero. It was bad judgement on her part. She wasn't the most capable to handle redirecting a rocket, and she also made a bad call on summoning only her arms first. She should have summoned the entire suit and tried to take a scan of it first. That would have let them know if it was dangerous or not. However, she was a little mad that Lang didn't even mention how she took a stand too, to help formulate a plan with James. Listen to the grandson of Steve Rogers. Lang couldn't even call James by his own name the first time around. It was the little things like that which kept her from calling him Mister Lang. She was almost going to let her smart ass ask a question, but she knew it wouldn't have earned her, or the group as a whole, any points. If she would have said something, it would have twisted Lang's words around to make them seem a bit more pep-talk-y. James making the safe call of allowing someone more qualified to stop a missile take the first step? Herself redirecting the missile as best she could with her own thrusters? Poole unsure of his own ability, so stepping back unless they really needed him? From what she heard, Lang used to be a smartaleck back in the day, so he could probably out-quip her, and most of the people in the room, military background or not. "So... What's the penalty? Or does the pep-talk part negate the chewing-out part of this little gathering?" Of course she couldn't not say anything.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will said nothing, mostly just waiting for an opportunity to leave. He had a lot of places he'd rather be than here, namely the bathroom, but after that he wanted to have a chance to unpack his stuff before class. The ten year old silently edged his way to the back of the small group of students, anxiously chewing on the end of his jacket sleeve. His other hand twirled strands of his dark brown hair, his gaze cast on the ground although he was still technically paying attention. He didn't have a lot to do with the situation with the rocket, other than almost being its victim, so he wasn't quite sure why he had to be here.</s> <\|message\|>Vix Vix listened to what was said. So it was the lack of teamwork and civilian evacuation what bothered mr. Lang. She could understand the why he was angry about it... One mistake and someone may have died only because no one lead the people out of the breakfast hall for example. Or called back up to clear up the range from bystanders where they wanted the rocket to explode. Or someone powers didnt work and they failed when they were relied on to save the same civilians... She stopped that train of thinking, refocusing. She could help with simulation of situations to improve upon weaknesses of strategy, powers and abilities, but she only could give that to the people she knew how they fought. Had recorded enough useful data about them. She didnt know anyone in this room how they fought at that level. Minus two people Alexs with which she was paired up often in combat class, and Richard on a few occasions she spared with. As James commented and the professor responded to him she decided against pointing out that the first Avengers only came together as a group after someone died, at least that what the files she was given by her mother and grandfather read. And even then it wasnt always the perfect example of teamwork. The school idea was to teach them not to have same mistakes. To fix it. Vix raised her hand just after Charlotte spoke. "How about instead of punishment, we increases the number of team building lessons, communications and trust exercises? As those are the lacking fields. And another question, when exactly is the start of today classes?" According to her information it should have started a few minutes earlier, but then again they didnt and here Mr. Lang was pointing out the mistakes of the most recent accident. She wanted to know if they were pushed back, and if the classes were delayed she would so log into the game and farm vampire sea eagle drops for potions. She really felt like doing it.</s>	<\|message\|>Ben Poole Being called out on his inactivity caused Ben to shy away, back to his timid self. He stayed quiet throughout the lecture, not once piping up. He never once considered being part of a team before. Perhaps that was why he was sitting back. He knew that the team would handle things... but if he was another cog in their team... Ben pondered this as Vix suggested increasing the lessons in team work. Ben piped in. "Yeah. If we're meant to be a team, perhaps it'd be better if we learned how. Remember, I've been going solo for the first little while until I enrolled here." Ben got back to a bit of a cocky attitude, but not enough in the hopes of not pissing off Scott.</s>
<\|description\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes Age: 18 Appearance: Years in the Academy: fourth Ancestors: James Rhodes, Grandfather (War Machine) Powers/Abilities: While Charlotte lacks anything that would qualify as a power, she is rather well versed in mechanical engineering, and has a knack for aviation. The Peace Walker suit is equipped with the Stark Standard hand repulors, unibeam projector, propulsion system, and handy knick-knacks, as well as an additional jump jet system for added mobility both in chase and in combat, heavier, modular armor, and a collapsible laser rifle that can be stored on the suit when not in use. The suit computer system, COR, is always ready to help Charlotte when she needs it. Bio: Doesn't have to be long. How'd you get your powers? Anything important happen in your character's life? Family/Relationships?: Lilly Rhodes, Ne McCoy, her mother and daughter in law to James, was also a rather high ranking member of the Marine Corps, and met her husband in boot camp. She supports her daughter whenever possible, but isn't afraid Charlotte when she's worried for their safety. Terrence Rhodes Jr. James' son who continued in the line of joining the Military. When Stark started the Avengers Academy, he knew that his daughter would have chosen that over just flying planes, and talked to his father and "Uncle Tony" to start working on a suit that might fit Charlotte one day. James Rhodes can be considered that cool grandfather who spoils his granddaughter whenever they meet. He'll always go above and beyond for his family, and has taken every precautionary measure to make sure she grows up right and safe. Annabelle Boltagon - A friend of four years, Charlotte has known Anna since she arrived at the academy. The two are study partners as well, and can get away with teasing or joking about one another without any real worry. Weapons: Chargeable Energy Rifle - a part of the Peace Walker suit, is powered by the Arc Reactor on the suit, and requires charge in order to be of any use. Personality: A stand-up girl in a military family, Charlotte has an interesting set of opinions that could really only be formed by traveling the world like she did. She normally has something to say about something, even if she won't say it out loud. Not everyone is a marine, and not everyone can handle her thoughts or rather crude humor. Though, don't let that fool you. Behind those words is what one would call an absolute nerd. With a library inside her head, she knows a lot about a lot of things, most of that information not as useful as one might think. Who needs to know the exact date of when Space Jame premiered in theaters? Who knows? But she knows it. Other: Charlotte is a big fan of old-school anime, and shares Tony's love for classic rock.</s> <\|message\|>Vix [Location: Hall of Heroes] Vix turned her head towards the female voice she recognized. "Hey, Vix, ready for another semester?" Annabelle Boltagon her memory informed her, as well as pulling the information of the several classes they shared last year. Her own relationship with the inhuman was mostly neutral. Vix maintained her smile, if there were to share the classes in Next avengers program it would do to increase their closeness. "All preparation needed have been completed. How about you? Excited about the new year?" Vix asked her, her hands crossing over her chest as she leaned against the wall. She was dressed in a strap black tank top and fitting black pants. She wore those clothing articles most of the time, even during winter, but in the rainy and snowy days she would put on a jacket if only she would not pull too much attention on her. SHe could say she preferred them as they were practical. Plus she favorite the look it gave to her. In the background of Vix mind a algoritam binged. Something of interest was happening in the cafeteria. If the several tweets and the footage a brave or stupid soul was streaming while hiding behind a table. She knew she would be with Roger in class this year, and seeing Annabelle being her classmate as well Vix decided it was a perfect bonding opportunity. "Hey Annabelle." Vix eyes became whiter as she turned her head towards a wall. "James Roger is being a hero, wanna see?" The projection started, the angle wasnt the best but they could see the famous student with his shield out. And two other student holding in place something that looked like a rocket. Beside the footage a several tweets scrolled down commenting with various hashtags. #JRSavesday #NormalSchoolDay #RocketBreakfast Vix was trying to put names to all the faces, but she lacked files and didnt felt like hacking to obtain the information. Instead she saw a girl jump a armor assembling around her as she rode the rocket. "I think that girl, is confusing the situations with bull riding. What do you think? The magic user looks cute." Vix commented idly, wondering if Roger would solve the situation or if more people would jump into the mess with no coordination or plan whatsoever. Juice</s> <\|message\|>James Victor Rogers James watched the rocket fly upwards in the air, and then back down towards a group of people. He was about to run after it until a student in a suit caught it with some wires, holding on to the rocket as it tried its best to shake free. He knew who the kid was. Mark had been in the Advanced Training Program with him last year, and although he was a quiet, he was passionate on his projects and helping people. Then a new anchor appeared almost out of nowhere, with a large voice of annoyance. James shifted his gaze towards Nao. Nao was a mystery to James still. He knew that Mr. Stark wouldn't bring anyone with ill intentions to the academy, but the style of magic Nao used made James uneasy, and hard to fully trust. James looked back at the young boy who he had protected earlier. "You alright?" James asked him sincerely, noticing his shaking and paleness. He had never seen this person before, but something told him that although he was young, he had a lot to show everyone. "Everything's alright. We got this under control--" A blur ran by the two, and it only took a second to realize that Charlotte Rhodes ran through the crowd and attached herself to the rocket. James frowned when she said that it was going to blow. He wasn't much of a mechanical guy, but he would take her word for it. "Charlotte! Find its circuit board or whatever controls it, and aim it towards the door! Mark, Nao, when I say, let go, and she'll do her best to control it outside! Once outside, rip the circuits out, and let go! Anyone willing and able, once the thing explodes make sure no debris hits anyone!" James rushed through the crowd that was now either evacuating or trying to help. He once again raised his shield, but at the end of it a dark red energy force came to life. Not only was the shield made of a vibranium-steel alloy, this one had the ability to slice through almost anything like butter... And it split in two He didn't know what was in this rocket, if it really could explode, or if it was just something a kid made for a prank, but he wasn't going to find any of that stuff out the hard way. He split his shield in two, swinging the blade towards the door frame that held the two doors together, and then with one big kick, sent the piece of metal flying. Putting the two pieces back together, James stood in a defensive position just outside the now large opening. "Alright... Go!" as soon as the two let go the rocket and Charlotte came hurdling towards the door. Aiming his shield yet again, the rocket made contact with his shield with a Ting! and shooting it more upwards. He prayed that Charlotte had time to do what she had to, and soon enough she let go of the rocket. James didn't know if the parts that were coming towards Charlotte would allow flight just yet, but he had his hopes, but she was too close to the thing to get out of there safely! "Catch!" James yelled to her, throwing his shield as a disk towards her. The explosions wasn't the biggest thing, but it was impressive as hundreds of metal scraps erupted everywhere. The rocket was small enough to only produce debris as large as tennis balls, but they would still injure and hurt a lot. A piece of metal made contact with Jame's cheek, and he gasped in pain and shock as he turned and crouched with his back away from the explosion. Once he thought it was safe he stood and looked around. He could feel the large amounts of cuts and scrapes that made contact with his back, and cheek, but he knew that they were already healing... A crowd was already here to start with cleanup, and the Academy security burst into action, scanning the area for any serious injuries. Hopefully there wouldn't be. What a way to start the semester.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will nodded, still not really sure what was going on. It all happened so fast, and he hadn't really processed it. It was clear that he had a long way to go to being one of the Next Avengers. Actually, he had no idea why they put a kid like him in the program. Sure, he had superhuman powers, but he couldn't be a hero... or at least he thought he couldn't. "Uh... I'm okay, thanks." He said, hiding his uncertainty behind a convincing forced smile. He took a step back, his hands in the pockets of his gray jacket. He bit into the inside of his cheek, trying to keep himself from asking the questions he wanted to ask, like what the hell just happened? He squirmed slightly in discomfort, realizing he still had to find a bathroom quick. Problem was, he didn't know his way around the campus at all. And there was no way in hell he was going to ask for help. "Well, thanks for saving me." He said, turning on his heel and starting to wlak out of the cafeteria.</s>	<\|message\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes Charlotte may have exaggerated about the rocket being explosive, but there was no way to tell without opening it up. She didn't exactly have the time to piece it apart and see what kind of hardware it was packing, but she was going to assume the worst of it and refused to take chances on the people here. "COR, get the rest of the suit!" She commanded rather loudly. The repulsors on her hands were already primed and ready, the elbow thrusters and shoulder thrusters were keeping her steady. However, the rocket had launched forward, with the star spangled spartan taking charge and initiative. She knew the plan, and she hoped to god that the rest of her suit would be arriving before her body met the pavement in a pretty serious way. It took all of her strength to hold onto the rocket to guide it, but somehow they were able to pull it off. Still, her suit wasn't here, but Charlotte was keeping count and taking breaths. Both she and the rocket were taken outside, almost hitting so many walls as they went around, but Charlotte was being super extra careful to not make it explode. Once outside, she aimed the thruster down to the ground, shooting both herself and the rocket up. She could hear the rest of her armor flying in, and once she was sure it was going straight up, she let go of the rocket and let herself fall to the ground. Her armor swallowed her whole, right in the middle of the air. Before she had much time to register much else, there James was again, calling out to her. "Catch!" Part of his shield had flown up into her arms. She caught it with a bit of force, and swung it around to protect herself from the falling debris of the rocket, not that her armor wasn't protecting her anyway. One arm held onto the shield, the other, repulsor ready, had moved up and started to fire at as much debris as she could. The suit itself locked onto as many falling pieces as it could, and helped Charlotte fire away, hopefully keeping people from getting hit. She hovered down soon after, hitting the ground as softly as a suit of armor could. She had to admit, though. Her rifle in one hand, a shield in another, it wasn't a bad tactic that she could suggest to James later on. If he could split his shield like that more often, they could all get to working off of one another and keeping sharp. "I think this is yours?" Though it wasn't seen, Charlotte smiled at James, tossing his shield back to him. She wondered who had started the rocket in the first place. The academy was no stranger to strangeness, but this was a little much to secure everyone's first day jitters.</s>
<\|description\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes Age: 18 Appearance: Years in the Academy: fourth Ancestors: James Rhodes, Grandfather (War Machine) Powers/Abilities: While Charlotte lacks anything that would qualify as a power, she is rather well versed in mechanical engineering, and has a knack for aviation. The Peace Walker suit is equipped with the Stark Standard hand repulors, unibeam projector, propulsion system, and handy knick-knacks, as well as an additional jump jet system for added mobility both in chase and in combat, heavier, modular armor, and a collapsible laser rifle that can be stored on the suit when not in use. The suit computer system, COR, is always ready to help Charlotte when she needs it. Bio: Doesn't have to be long. How'd you get your powers? Anything important happen in your character's life? Family/Relationships?: Lilly Rhodes, Ne McCoy, her mother and daughter in law to James, was also a rather high ranking member of the Marine Corps, and met her husband in boot camp. She supports her daughter whenever possible, but isn't afraid Charlotte when she's worried for their safety. Terrence Rhodes Jr. James' son who continued in the line of joining the Military. When Stark started the Avengers Academy, he knew that his daughter would have chosen that over just flying planes, and talked to his father and "Uncle Tony" to start working on a suit that might fit Charlotte one day. James Rhodes can be considered that cool grandfather who spoils his granddaughter whenever they meet. He'll always go above and beyond for his family, and has taken every precautionary measure to make sure she grows up right and safe. Annabelle Boltagon - A friend of four years, Charlotte has known Anna since she arrived at the academy. The two are study partners as well, and can get away with teasing or joking about one another without any real worry. Weapons: Chargeable Energy Rifle - a part of the Peace Walker suit, is powered by the Arc Reactor on the suit, and requires charge in order to be of any use. Personality: A stand-up girl in a military family, Charlotte has an interesting set of opinions that could really only be formed by traveling the world like she did. She normally has something to say about something, even if she won't say it out loud. Not everyone is a marine, and not everyone can handle her thoughts or rather crude humor. Though, don't let that fool you. Behind those words is what one would call an absolute nerd. With a library inside her head, she knows a lot about a lot of things, most of that information not as useful as one might think. Who needs to know the exact date of when Space Jame premiered in theaters? Who knows? But she knows it. Other: Charlotte is a big fan of old-school anime, and shares Tony's love for classic rock.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will looked surprised. He wasn't really used to being approached in a friendly manner, especially by older kids. Back at the orphanage, older kids just picked on Will. He listened carefully to the boy, nodding thoughtfully. "I'm Will. Nice to meet you, James. And, uh, sure. I'll join you guys." Said Will, trying his best not to seem nervous. He forced a smile, holding out his hand and wondering if James would take it. He was doing his best to keep still, but it was a bit difficult. He hoped that the tower would have a bathroom... He was still kind of getting used to this school. It looked as though there weren't a lot of kids his age here. Most of them seemed much older, maybe in the 15 to 18 range. he was only 10 himself, and frankly it was a little intimidating. He was still really new to his abilities, and wasn't really sure why he was being advanced so quickly. Maybe his powers would be really useful once he'd trained them, but for now he didn't really seem like he fit in.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Kinney Alex slowly sat up in his bed to his phone ringing. He reached over to his practically bare bedside table to grab his phone. He answered the phone saying, "Hey, mom." Her response was what most overprotective mothers would say. "I've only been back for a day. How could I already get in trouble?" Alex talked with his mom slowly reassuring her that it was safe. Once they said goodbye Alex looked around his room. It was basically empty except for his bed, table, desk, chair, and all the stuff in his closet. He took his sweet time getting ready for the day. By the time he was done the majority of people on campus would be done with breakfast. Alex was dressed in normal sweatpants, a workout shirt with the Avengers logo in the top left corner, and his signature leather jacket with the detachable hood. He picked up his sheathed Ninjato attaching it to his belt then he stuck his bo staff into its side pocket. He then left for the Hall of Heroes for the beginning of the day. Despite his Hyper Speed, Alex chose to just walk there and took his sweet time. When he finally got there he saw the small time heroes of the day and the small kid who had been saved. Alex had no idea what had occurred earlier this morning but it was practically a certainty that he would later find out. For now he just stared at the group mostly looking at James. It felt awfully strange to Alex having to be near this guy but no one would ever hear him voice that opinion.</s> <\|message\|>Ben Poole "Oh boy... Here we go." Ben said as the group was told to report to the Hall of Heroes. If there's one thing he didn't like, it was getting an earful from the teachers, especially in regards to something he had little to no involvement in. Just then, a familiar person popped by and expressed interest in following. "Richie! My man! What's up?" Ben raised his hand up high. He then noticed he mentioned not wanting to miss the moment. "Well, if you're goin', guess I am too." Ben said.</s> <\|message\|>James Victor Rogers James smiled as Will accepted the offer. It was interesting to see such a young kid here at the Academy, but to be fair, James enlisted when he was 12, so who was he to say? He didn't know what Will could do or what he was thinking, but he wasn't just going to leave him traumatized after seeing an almost death experience in a place he thought would be safe. He took the young boy's hand. "This your first year?" As they all walked to the tower, James tried his best to give Will the unofficial tour of the place, pointing at things, and at people who were descendants of famous heroes. The Hall of Heroes was the most impressive building in the Academy. The first floor was a bit like a museum, displaying all the heroes who have come and gone into the Avengers, but in the center of the room were the costumes and information of the founding members of the Avengers so long ago. Captain America, Thor, Iron-Man, Ant-man, Hulk, and Wasp... It always sent chills down James' spine whenever he walked into this room. They were their legacy. One day their suits will be in here with the likes of Spider-Man, Falcon, and so many more. He saw that Vix and Annabelle were already here, and soon everyone else followed suit. James looked down at Will to see his expression on his face. He didn't know if his parents were in this collection, or if he was impressed at all, but something told him that Will was going to make it here some day... James caught movement from the corner of his eye. He turned to see that Alex Kinney made an appearance. It was always a weird feeling whenever the two were in the same room... His mother was cloned from Grandpa Logan's genes, which means that they were technically related. He remembered the conversation Grandpa Logan had with him when Alex first came to the academy. He had been through a lot as a kid, and that James had to keep an eye on him so nothing bad happens. He didn't specifically knew what that meant at the time, but from the small conversations that they had, he knew not to pry too much into it. Maybe one day they'll talk about this kind of stuff... He was about to go talk to Alex until the elevator in the corner of the room opened, and out came an older man, with graying brown hair, with a matching beard, and probably the best poker face in the world. He wore a nice red and blue suit, and his eyes scanned the room. "Mr. Lang--" James started, but the older man simply shook his head. "Everyone enjoy the little breakfast and show this morning? What in blazes happened down there?" The old man demanded, looking at the small group that joined. For all the years James trained under Scott Lang, he could never know if he was angry, or if he was simply asking and wanted to know how the situation went.</s> <\|message\|>Annabelle Boltagon The situation played itself out rather well. The students aptly handled it all and kept everyone safe. Annabelle only hoped things would go as smoothly out in the field, lord knows they would be handling things a lot more dangerous than just bottle rockets. She bit the corner of her thumbs fingernail, a bad habit she had adopted during her first few nervous weeks at the academy. She turned slightly towards Vix as the projection faded. "Problem is, what you prefer doesn't always lead to the one as you put it." She spoke, rather pessimistically. "Anyway, enough of that soppy stuff." She continued, intending to continue speaking but stopped herself as the group from the cafeteria made their way into the hall of heroes. "Looks like stuff is starting, we'd better join the group." She stated rather formally before making her way up to the group and following suit.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will nodded, following as James led him up to the tower. The campus was huge; he had no idea how he was supposed to learn to get around it. A man maybe a little older than Will's foster father Mr. Fleeter. Despite the man's neutral expression, Will could tell that he was probably irritated with them. Will didn't really know himself what was going on, so he remained silent when the man addressed the group. He still urgently needed to pee, and that was about all he could think about. He fidgeted around a bit, as if he were unable to stay still any longer. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, hunching over a bit and chewing on his knuckles. His messy dark brown hair was all over his face by this point, but he didn't reach up to rearrange it. But other than that, he tried his best to keep himself composed. No use drawing attention to himself in this kind of situation. Feeling like he could be more useful to the interrogation, he wracked his memory for exactly what had happened. He was just on his way out of the cafeteria, without having eaten anything, when suddenly James jumped in front of him and deflected a rocket. Some of the older kids took the rocket outside to detonate it, and he himself had followed them out after wandering around a bit looking for a bathroom. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand before speaking up. "...Someone made a rocket in the caf. I don't think anyone got hurt, though."</s>	<\|message\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes Charlotte considered herself, as well as everyone on campus, lucky that James took more after Steve Rogers than Logan Howlett. James sure knew how to talk to people, something that Charlotte herself wasn't as good at doing. Aside from Annabelle and occasionally bumping heads with Mark, she didn't do a whole lot of socializing. Vix could sort of be considered a second hand friend through Annabelle, but Charlotte could not honestly remember the last conversation that she had with Vix. In any case, the young boy who had been wrapped up in all of this with the rest of them had been brought along to the Hall of Heroes to speak with the one and only Advanced Training Program Instructor. He was a bit hard to deal with, but nothing worse than how she'd seen some drill sergeants treat some Boots. She went willingly along. Every little motion she made loosened the armor from her body until it was ready to peel off, revealing Charlotte again. She tapped the belt buckle, and the suit flew away without a word from COR. Sometimes things just didn't need to be said. Speaking of both Annabelle and Vix, the two had decided to join the group as well. Charlotte waved them both to walk over to her, smiling at them. "Enjoy the first scene of the school year? I didn't really take part in the ones years before." The hall of heroes surrounded her and all of the other students. Her Grandfather, Tony Stark, and many more all lined hall. No matter how many times she walked through, she was surprised that Pepper didn't get a Rescue statue somewhere, or at the very least a not totally selfish plaque by Tony. Then Mister Lang showed up. She could never really tell with Lang, but was pretty sure that the situation wasn't as dire as he was talking about it like. The boy had been the first to answer Lang's question. Apparently his name was Will. A nice name. Charlotte nodded in agreement and took a small step towards Lang. "I had just gotten there when it burst into the cafeteria. A few of us led it outside and took care of it before it could cause major harm."</s>
<\|description\|>Alex Kinney Age: 20 Appearance: Years in the Academy: 7 Ancestors: TaskMaster is his Uncle. X-23(Laura Kinney) is his mother. He does not know his father due to the man dying when he was young; however, this man is the link to TaskMaster. Photographic Reflexes = Alex has the ability of Photographic Reflexes. He wasn't born with this ability but due to his healing factor his uncle, TaskMaster, took him and began testing on him. TaskMaster tested to see if he could implant his own ability within the boy, and it worked. Alex now can copy any physical action that his body could naturally do. However, due to not naturally being born with this ability Alex can 'forget' how to do the move if he doesn't work to ingrain it into his muscle memory. Superhuman Longevity = Just like most with a healing factor Alex also has a superhuman level of longevity. This causes him to just like Wolverine and X-23 from whom he has DNA of to age slower during his young adult years and further on. Regenerative Healing Factor = Alex has a very strong healing factor due to having DNA of Wolverine and X-23. When TaskMaster did tests on the young boy he did something to increase the power at which Alex's body and mind can recover. It has not been attempted, but before TaskMaster escaped he mentioned that he believed that Alex had a better healing factor than Wolverine. Animalistic Instincts = Similar to Wolverine and X-23 Alex has heightened senses in the form of various animals. He has faster reflexes, stronger sense of smell, better eyesight, and an innate sense of incoming danger. Alex has yet to train these senses to their peak potential so as of right now they feel more of a nuisance until he fully understands what he is sensing. Hyper Speed = The only ability that Alex can call his own is his speed. Not quite the levels of those such as Quicksilver, but still faster than the average human if only a few MPH's higher. TaskMaster estimated that if he trained his speed that Alex could quite possibly reach Mach 1, but so far Alex has maxed out at 48 MPH. A side note is that Alex is fairly intelligent. This is primarily because TaskMaster drilled various lessons into the boy's mind. He learned a lot and retain nearly all of it. Bio: At a young age Alex's life began fairly normal. His father died when he was young so he only knew of his mother Laura as his family. At the time he didn't even know her link to Wolverine or about her powers. Once his abilities started to show themselves she told him everything. It was a lot for a seven year old to take in, but it caused him to have a strong desire to help people. Unfortunately, within the next year TaskMaster showed up. Still using the name Tony Masters he told the young Alex that he was the young boys uncle having been the brother of his dead father, the last person that had been living who knew Taskmaster's true identity. When Laura found out TaskMaster had shown up she forbid Alex to interact with him. Unfortunately, there was nothing either could do to stop TaskMaster from following out his plans. The man kidnapped Alex and took him to an old Weapon X facility. There he performed various tests on Alex implanting DNA in him and altering the already preexisting DNA. He taught the boy various things and began attempting to brainwash him. This was very difficult due to the boys healing factor. It took nearly three years, but Laura along with a few other superheroes eventually found the location where TaskMaster had been hiding the boy. TaskMaster had been outside the facility when the heroes showed up and therefore got away. All of this harshly affected the young boy. A close watch was kept on him after he and his mother moved to Xavier's School in order to keep him safe. Eventually Alex got sick of being stuck in the same place and he tried to run away. He was easily caught by Wolverine who came up with a compromise of placing him in the Avengers Academy. Laura was scared to part ways with her son when TaskMaster was still at large, but she realized that he should be safe with the Avengers close by rather than him continuously trying to run away. Alex only agreed as long as they kept his identity as secret as possible which was agreed to. Family/Relationships?: friends and family, romantic interests, etc. optional! Weapons: Since TaskMaster planned on working alongside Alex and rebuilding his crime syndicate he used his leftover connections to get Alex a Vibranium-Adamantium alloy Ninjato and a small collapsible Kendo Stick. Personality: To most Alex appears cold and standoffish, but those who know him well realize he is just a quiet guy. He can seem rude but that is only because he is very direct and rarely lets bias change how he deals with things unless he REALLY dislikes someone like his uncle. He is fiercely loyal and if someone hurts or wrongs someone he cares about he will defend them, but he rarely defends himself. He really wants to help others but doesn't feel as if he will be any real help. Other: Has an overbearing desire for revenge against TaskMaster.</s> <\|message\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes Charlotte considered herself, as well as everyone on campus, lucky that James took more after Steve Rogers than Logan Howlett. James sure knew how to talk to people, something that Charlotte herself wasn't as good at doing. Aside from Annabelle and occasionally bumping heads with Mark, she didn't do a whole lot of socializing. Vix could sort of be considered a second hand friend through Annabelle, but Charlotte could not honestly remember the last conversation that she had with Vix. In any case, the young boy who had been wrapped up in all of this with the rest of them had been brought along to the Hall of Heroes to speak with the one and only Advanced Training Program Instructor. He was a bit hard to deal with, but nothing worse than how she'd seen some drill sergeants treat some Boots. She went willingly along. Every little motion she made loosened the armor from her body until it was ready to peel off, revealing Charlotte again. She tapped the belt buckle, and the suit flew away without a word from COR. Sometimes things just didn't need to be said. Speaking of both Annabelle and Vix, the two had decided to join the group as well. Charlotte waved them both to walk over to her, smiling at them. "Enjoy the first scene of the school year? I didn't really take part in the ones years before." The hall of heroes surrounded her and all of the other students. Her Grandfather, Tony Stark, and many more all lined hall. No matter how many times she walked through, she was surprised that Pepper didn't get a Rescue statue somewhere, or at the very least a not totally selfish plaque by Tony. Then Mister Lang showed up. She could never really tell with Lang, but was pretty sure that the situation wasn't as dire as he was talking about it like. The boy had been the first to answer Lang's question. Apparently his name was Will. A nice name. Charlotte nodded in agreement and took a small step towards Lang. "I had just gotten there when it burst into the cafeteria. A few of us led it outside and took care of it before it could cause major harm."</s> <\|message\|>Vix Vix saw the group of people arrive, her classmates. "As you say." Vix followed Annabelle into the group. mr. Lang was the one who meet them questioning about the scene in the cafeteria. It was not interesting to Vix as she had a recording of the events thanks to someone streaming it. Decided to send it to mr. Lang mail. It included the twitter feed that went along as well as links to threads of some students forums who were making conspiracy theories about the whole thing already. As well including a few words of her own opinion with the most likelihood written in the mail. It didnt have to be the most likely situationm but it was the safest bet. Mr. Lang, Most likely a third year student misfire. In greetings Vix That done, she gave a nod to Charlotte, who she recognized first by the armor. It was the first time they would share the same class. Vix curiosity about her raised. A young boy spoke up first. She looked at him, noticing his strained posture and the slight fidgeting. A second long medical and thermal scans explained it to her. The boy named Will had a urgent biological need. Charlotte decided to speak next, moving the attention away from Will. Vix stepped up beside the boy placing her hand softly on his shoulder to get his attention. She had learned enough tact to lean to the boy with a warm smile and whisper. "The toilets are beside the staircase, just down the hall on the left." She pointed it briefly, before moving away to stand and removing her hand from the youngest member of the group. Looking around she spotted Richard with another spider clad student. She gave him a silent greeting with a wave. After the first mishap that she referred to as The sticky incident that happened in her first weeks of her academy days, they become more friendly. He was a nice conversation partner. Vix concluded that the class for the advance program was a nice one.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will blinked in surprise, blushed a bit, then nodded. "Thanks." He said quietly, forcing a small smile. He'd have to wait to leave until the older man was done interrogating them, but at least now he knew where he was going. As it stood, it seemed like some of the older kids had a pretty solid grasp on what had happened. He hoped whoever made the rocket would fess up quick, because he didn't know how much longer he could wait. And publicly humiliating himself was not a good way to start his first day at Avenger Academy. He listened as a tall girl who couldn't have been any younger than 18 spoke up, adding on to his weak explanation of the situation. At least this was going relatively quickly.</s> <\|message\|>Nao Saito Nao groaned inwardly as they walked through the Hall of Heros. He actively avoided this building after his orientation tour. It was a place for legends, those who strode toward the light relentlessly. Nao wasn't like that. He was brought up by the very darkness they swore to fight. He was tainted by it. He felt small in the presence of these legends. During his first year, he nearly left the academy. Between the bullying and ostrigization from the other magical students and the relentless march of remedial classes, Nao felt out of place. He'd missed years of academic and cultural advancement. He discovered music when he was 13. It took him months to acclimate to the idea of cars and even now he couldn't use a computer effectively. He wielded some of the darkest magics in the book and years of training made it almost impossible for his stoic facade to drop. The Hall of Heros served as a reminder of what he wasn't. Two females wandered into the group as the approached the center. His nose twitched as he instinctively felt for their blood. Anyone who regularly practice blood magic developed a sixth sense for blood quality and types since spells were specific and often times you didn't have time to ask questions while stripping the liquid out of another's body. The girl with green skin and tipped ears was obviously inhuman. He didn't need magical senses to tell that. He frowned. The other didn't have a scent to her. Interesting. He shook his head slightly. No, bad Nao. That was an invasion of privacy on the highest level. "Everyone enjoy the little breakfast and show this morning? What in blazes happened down there?" The voice snapped Nao out of his contemplations. Mr. Scott Lang addressed the group. Nao had a hard time getting a feel for the situtation; the man's face betrayed nothing. The young boy stepped forward to explain, followed by Charlotte. They seemed to have covered the basics of the situation, no need for him to get involved. He glanced at his watch and blanched. He'd never skipped class before. A yawn rose unbidden but he managed to stifle it. A sharp pick on his hand reminded him of something. He was still bleeding. He quickly ruffled through his bag, careful not to drip blood inside, and pulled out small band aids. He tipped off each finger.</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Richie" Parker Richard jumped down from the drone and high fived Ben. He couldn't leave him hanging. Spider pun not intended. He followed the others to the Hall of Heroes and looked around. No matter how many times he entered this building he was always fascinated. It was like each time he entered he noticed and took in something new. It seemed that others were already here when they arrived. Including Vix. The start of their friendship wa a crazy one. You wouldn't even think they'd become friends after that. She didn't seem to notice him at first and before he could get her attention Scott Lang came on the scene. Or Mr. Lang. By the way he interrupted James, Richard figured that he was probably upset if even just mildly so. When he asked if they enjoyed the show and what happened Richie just shook his head. "I was actually late to the whole thing." Though considering how lax the school seemed with weapons and technology out in the open on campus he was surprised that there weren't accidents more frequently. Dealing with a few accidents a day every day would actually be some good training. Maybe he should try and set that up. Get the more accident prone students to do what they do best. Soon the young wall crawler was lost in thought. He soon remembered where he was and noticed Vix waving at him. He smiled and waved back. This was already getting boring fast. He walked over to Mr. Lang and wrapped his arm around him like they were old pals. "No one got hurt. Well, no one except for James over there and he... you know. You must've asked them here for more than just asking what happened, right? Come on. Get to the good stuff."</s>	<\|message\|>Alex Kinney Alex watched the group when Scott Lang showed up talking about some 'incident' that happened mere moments ago. He listened for a bit then inserted himself in the conversation, "Come on Mr. Lang. We all know the school has state-of-the-art tech. Is there any real reason to ask these guys when you can just watch some footage. It's the first day. Someone probably just got to anxious or nervous working on some sort of project then lost focus. As long as no one got hurt there is no reason to hold up class. So, please sir." In truth if it hadn't been for the fact that this would hold up his day Alex probably wouldn't have said anything. He looked around at the small group gathered around. A few faces he knew a few he didn't. Alex wasn't the most sociable guy around so most had no clue he even existed unless they were apart of the Next Avengers Program where he was one of the best fighters. He also offered his skills as a sparing partner to anyone who needed it due to his powers. Not many took up the offer though since not many people even know of this offer. Either way he was most likely going to know these people very well soon if he didn't already.</s>
<\|description\|>Alex Kinney Age: 20 Appearance: Years in the Academy: 7 Ancestors: TaskMaster is his Uncle. X-23(Laura Kinney) is his mother. He does not know his father due to the man dying when he was young; however, this man is the link to TaskMaster. Photographic Reflexes = Alex has the ability of Photographic Reflexes. He wasn't born with this ability but due to his healing factor his uncle, TaskMaster, took him and began testing on him. TaskMaster tested to see if he could implant his own ability within the boy, and it worked. Alex now can copy any physical action that his body could naturally do. However, due to not naturally being born with this ability Alex can 'forget' how to do the move if he doesn't work to ingrain it into his muscle memory. Superhuman Longevity = Just like most with a healing factor Alex also has a superhuman level of longevity. This causes him to just like Wolverine and X-23 from whom he has DNA of to age slower during his young adult years and further on. Regenerative Healing Factor = Alex has a very strong healing factor due to having DNA of Wolverine and X-23. When TaskMaster did tests on the young boy he did something to increase the power at which Alex's body and mind can recover. It has not been attempted, but before TaskMaster escaped he mentioned that he believed that Alex had a better healing factor than Wolverine. Animalistic Instincts = Similar to Wolverine and X-23 Alex has heightened senses in the form of various animals. He has faster reflexes, stronger sense of smell, better eyesight, and an innate sense of incoming danger. Alex has yet to train these senses to their peak potential so as of right now they feel more of a nuisance until he fully understands what he is sensing. Hyper Speed = The only ability that Alex can call his own is his speed. Not quite the levels of those such as Quicksilver, but still faster than the average human if only a few MPH's higher. TaskMaster estimated that if he trained his speed that Alex could quite possibly reach Mach 1, but so far Alex has maxed out at 48 MPH. A side note is that Alex is fairly intelligent. This is primarily because TaskMaster drilled various lessons into the boy's mind. He learned a lot and retain nearly all of it. Bio: At a young age Alex's life began fairly normal. His father died when he was young so he only knew of his mother Laura as his family. At the time he didn't even know her link to Wolverine or about her powers. Once his abilities started to show themselves she told him everything. It was a lot for a seven year old to take in, but it caused him to have a strong desire to help people. Unfortunately, within the next year TaskMaster showed up. Still using the name Tony Masters he told the young Alex that he was the young boys uncle having been the brother of his dead father, the last person that had been living who knew Taskmaster's true identity. When Laura found out TaskMaster had shown up she forbid Alex to interact with him. Unfortunately, there was nothing either could do to stop TaskMaster from following out his plans. The man kidnapped Alex and took him to an old Weapon X facility. There he performed various tests on Alex implanting DNA in him and altering the already preexisting DNA. He taught the boy various things and began attempting to brainwash him. This was very difficult due to the boys healing factor. It took nearly three years, but Laura along with a few other superheroes eventually found the location where TaskMaster had been hiding the boy. TaskMaster had been outside the facility when the heroes showed up and therefore got away. All of this harshly affected the young boy. A close watch was kept on him after he and his mother moved to Xavier's School in order to keep him safe. Eventually Alex got sick of being stuck in the same place and he tried to run away. He was easily caught by Wolverine who came up with a compromise of placing him in the Avengers Academy. Laura was scared to part ways with her son when TaskMaster was still at large, but she realized that he should be safe with the Avengers close by rather than him continuously trying to run away. Alex only agreed as long as they kept his identity as secret as possible which was agreed to. Family/Relationships?: friends and family, romantic interests, etc. optional! Weapons: Since TaskMaster planned on working alongside Alex and rebuilding his crime syndicate he used his leftover connections to get Alex a Vibranium-Adamantium alloy Ninjato and a small collapsible Kendo Stick. Personality: To most Alex appears cold and standoffish, but those who know him well realize he is just a quiet guy. He can seem rude but that is only because he is very direct and rarely lets bias change how he deals with things unless he REALLY dislikes someone like his uncle. He is fiercely loyal and if someone hurts or wrongs someone he cares about he will defend them, but he rarely defends himself. He really wants to help others but doesn't feel as if he will be any real help. Other: Has an overbearing desire for revenge against TaskMaster.</s> <\|message\|>Ben Poole Being called out on his inactivity caused Ben to shy away, back to his timid self. He stayed quiet throughout the lecture, not once piping up. He never once considered being part of a team before. Perhaps that was why he was sitting back. He knew that the team would handle things... but if he was another cog in their team... Ben pondered this as Vix suggested increasing the lessons in team work. Ben piped in. "Yeah. If we're meant to be a team, perhaps it'd be better if we learned how. Remember, I've been going solo for the first little while until I enrolled here." Ben got back to a bit of a cocky attitude, but not enough in the hopes of not pissing off Scott.</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Richie" Parker Richard was right and knew it was more than just asking what happened. He was chewing them out and he looked around at the reactions of the others as he did so. He noticed Ben's personal retreat and removed his arm from around Mister Lang. He didn't want to sound cocky but he was sure that if he was there the situation would've gone a lot smoother. He decided to keep that to himself. It wasn't the time to praise himself. Especially when the others were being scolded and in some ways belittled. He listened to Vix and Ben and chiped in after them. "They're right. Put us to the test and let us change your opinion. I suggest we do a simulation right now." Even though he wasn't part of the original situation there was no way he was going to miss out on this. This would've been good for all of them. Especially those that weren't actually in the program yet.</s> <\|message\|>Nao Saito Nao shuffled his feet a little as Mr. Lang went on, flinching at the waiting until the last second comment. Definitely him. It wasn't that he didn't want to help, it was more that he'd never had to be involved before. Really, he thought it would be heroic enough if he could actually pass a math class without extra tutoring this year. Seriously, who thought anyone would actually need the pythagorean theorem outside of a test. Nao nodded as a few of the group suggested simulations. If working together was an issue, better to throw everyone into a situation to work out the kinks. Plus, he'd never had the opportunity to work with people that weren't trying to hurt others. Actually, it's more like he avoided it like the plague. But he had to start somewhere.</s> <\|message\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes "Yes! Yes. Let's all listen to Vix and Richard. Allow us all to heed what they hath said to us." She had just accidentally issued a challenge to Lang by saying what she did, now she just wanted them to move past that and pretend that it never happened in the first place. A little test or simulation wouldn't hurt, but what about the kid? James had just kinda dragged him along with the group full of advanced training students, and she was pretty sure that his pipes were going to burst if he didn't go soon. "Um, Will." She thought that was his name, at least. She wasn't really in the conversation when the boy had told James his name. "This is some pretty heavy stuff coming up. You should probably take a little bit of a break before we start up and get you stuck with us for at least an hour or two." There was no really easy way that she could subtly allude to him that this was his queue to go and find a bathroom. Runners, Marines, it had happened to grown men and women in those kind of situations, and she wasn't going to let that kid have any sort of accidents, as weird as it sounded to even think about.</s> <\|message\|>James Victor Rogers The responses to his question only made Professor Lang laugh and sigh. "Getting lectured on how to teach by a bunch of kids, never thought I'd see the day. Most of you have been training for teamwork for a while now. But you know what? You want me to teach you teamwork? Fine. We're going to split up into groups-- Hold on." Scott stopped and looked at Will, turning his head a bit. "You're the kid who almost got hit by the rocket, right? A new student... Sorry for keeping you here, please don't pee all over the floor, this is an important building..." Professor Lang's face softened a bit. He always had a soft spot for younger kids. In all honesty Lang only came off as harsh because he was training the next people to take up the Avengers. Most of the students here were cocky and thought they could do anything, so he had to give them a reality check. But when it came to new students he was nothing but helpful. "Friday, what's this child's schedule? we need to get him to class before he's late." A female voice echoed through the room in response. "It seems to be that this... is his first class today, Scott. He's Will Fleeter, right? Scott eyed him for a couple moments before slowly nodding. "Must have been a slip up in the database. Never had a first day student join the program... "There's nothing we can do at the moment. Might as well pair him with someone and see what he can do. the female voice responded kinda worriedly. James looked over at the young kid, worried himself. These courses were for people who have gotten a hold of their abilities or know whats in store for them... James prayed that Lang knew what he was doing. "Alright, so we are going to spend the morning going through some teamwork exercises. You're going to partner up and complete an obstacle course. For anyone who's been here before you know these courses are meant to push you and your abilities to the max of your potential. If your partner fails, so do you. No excuses. You will have to work together or we will find of another group project for you to do, understand? Now, time for the teams! Annabelle, I've seen the stink eyes you've given James, and vise versa. The grandchildren of two leaders should be able to work out their differences and pass these courses... I guess the two Web-Heads can pair up, and use genetics and technology to reach an end goal. Vix, Charlotte, pair up, and this time make sure your whole suit is here. Alex, Nao, I'm curious to see how this plays out... and Mister Westbrook, you're going to team up with Will... I hope you like these pairs, because they're final! James nodded and glanced over at Anna. Lang knew that the two weren't too fond of each other when it came to their thinking. James hoped that they could push that aside to get through the course. it wasn't going to be easy. He then glanced over at Alex. He was teamed up with Nao, and although he was sure the two could handle it, James didn't know if things would get out of hand with that combination... And then there was Will. He knew Mark wouldn't let anything happen to him, he was a good person, but he had no idea what Will could do. He didn't look confident, and that was dangerous. "Alright, we're going to use the arenas outside for these trials. It'll give you all room to work with. Time to move out! The obstacle course Arenas were all next to each other, all looking like massive sporting arenas. There was a glass dome above them, and although there was grass in the field to start off, the terrain and lighting changed as soon as the simulation started. You could be on the rooftop of New York, or the jungles of Wakanda, or even old military bases for infiltration. There were even classic style obstacle courses that had no setting, just different shapes and blocks and enemies to move around. It looked like everyone was going at the same time. James was next to Anna, awkwardly thinking about what to say. They didn't hate each other, but there were those moments where they got on each other's nerves, and that seemed to be a lot.</s> <\|message\|>Annabelle Boltagon Anna listened as Lang went on another of his casual tirades. Over the years Anna felt her and the groups respect for Lang change, even the smallest aspect of their relationship with him had shifted. For example, rather than 'Mr Lang' as she used to call him, Anna opted now for the more friendly 'Lang'. She'd never call him Scott though, that just felt weird. Furthermore, Lang had begun to feel more like a father figure and a mentor rather than a teacher, at least to Anna, someone she could confide in. I suppose that came with the job though, after all training what could have been the next Avengers requires a degree of compassion and sympathy. Anna grimaced as the team members were read out. Of course she was paired with, James he was the only one she knew well enough to dislike somewhat. She rubbed the corners of her eyes with her fingers before moving a strand of hair out of her line of sight with a slender green hand. She crossed her arms, turning to face James. "Alright, boy scout an obstacle course should be easy enough for you, if there are a few kittens caught in trees along the way that might be a different story though, so let's just hope that Lang has made this relatively traditional." She teased, attempting to keep spirits up between the two in her own strange way.</s>	<\|message\|>Alex Kinney When Mr. Lang started speaking again Alex felt like an idiot for assuming the same thing as the others around him. However, he did take time to watch the video on the screen. As Mr. Lang listed off the problems that were more obvious Alex thought of ways to fix them and even noticed a few more issues. Then James spoke up with a glorious speech. Alex almost laughed out loud. Not because it was funny what James said, but because they had similar DNA yet couldn't be any different. Alex listened as the others requested that instead of punishment they be put through some sort of teamwork exercise. He had to admit it wasn't the worst idea. If it were up to him the whole group would be shoved into a Danger Room at near the level Wolverine liked to train on. When Lang said they'd be participating in an obstacle course Alex felt a little disappointed. He wanted a real challenge. Alex had done these courses hundreds of times. Guaranteed he'd never done this alongside Nao. That would at least make the exercise a little more interesting than usual. When they got to the locations of the courses Alex turned to Nao and said, "How do you wanna do this. I know whenever I usually do these things they throw some sort of magic at me since it's my weak spot. Got any preference on who leads."</s>
<\|description\|>Annelise Hansen Age: 26 Gender: Female Sexuality: Straight, although she doesn't entirely rule out women if the opportunity arises. Appearance: Annelise is short for her age, about 5 feet, and she weighs no more than 98 lbs. She has light-brown hair and pale green eyes. No major scars or tattoos adorn her pale skin. Personality: A sarcastic, witty comedian at times, but otherwise keeps to herself. She's social at her job, like she has to be, but she much prefers to spend her time solving a complicated puzzle. It shouldn't go without saying that she can be quite the party animal if she's in the mood for it though. Bio: Originally from Denmark, Annelise and her parents migrated over to the states when she was just 5 years old. They settled in Carlsford with minimum struggle as all three members of the family were bilingual, although Annelise still suffered from culture shock due to her young age. Fast forward 8 years later and out of the blue, the young girl learns she's a witch. The discovery was purely accidental after she cut herself with an abalone shell and noticed she could manipulate her blood without touching it. A few more series of tests followed, and it finally sunk in for Annelise that she was indeed a witch. Despite her close relationship with her parents, Annelise never told them about her ability. Currently, the young woman holds a job as a bartender in Blue Sam's, one of the busier bars on Main Street. She's had the job for 5 months ever since going on break from medical school, that which nearly led her to have a full mental breakdown from all the stress she was enduring. While simultaneously drowning in her studies, members of the coven were attempting to convince her to join. Annalise always declined, much preferring the "lone wolf" status so that she could avoid whatever trouble came their way. She had enough on her plate already, and she didn't need more problems. Magical Specialty: Blood manipulation. A rainbow abalone pendant hangs from Annelise's neck, that which she uses to cut herself [or someone else] in order to gain full control of her [or their] blood.</s> <\|message\|>Lars Crow Lars was startled and almost dropped the jar of unpronounceable substance that was in his hand. He let out sigh of relief and put the jar back on the shelf. He looked at the source of his discomfort with a scowl, he had seen this girl around once and a while b ut never spoke to her. "I am trying to kill time, and why would you wanna learn how to ride?" He said as he stared holes into the list in his hand and looked around the rest of the ingredients. The general store was owned by a older witch in the coven who made it so that it could double as a store for magical items and also normal everyday house hold things. She enchanted the store so that only people who could use magic can see the "other" items. Lars continued to look around and slowly put things in his basket, and continued on like this awaiting the girls response.</s> <\|message\|>Silvera Golders "I really don't have anything to do...riding a longboard is better than doing nothing right? So teach me, kill some time." Silvera smiles, a bright, exuberant smile that lights up her features,wonderfully. She picks up some items off of the shelves, examines them and slams them back down on the shelf, skipping up and down the aisle and finally coming back to stop at where the boy is. She grabs his basket and swung it around as she skipped up and down again and came back to a stop in front of him, cheeks flushed a red, eyes shining brightly. She looked beautiful in the moment and she knew that. She smiled again.</s> <\|message\|>Ode Bankhole Her movement was a bit more jumpy than the usual rushed and aching walks. Ode found the delightment of a day's off. The air felt... clear and her gratefulness peaking inside her. Checking into her purse, she understood how the work paid off. "Let this day satisfy me, at least," she whispered with a smile. Her mood did not falter under the diversity of Carlsford. Surely, those with power was sensed my her as well with those with magic defense. Ode also knew of the coven that had been living for a well known time, even paid visit to its greatness. But the coven's presence was too known in the area. Really, someone's "speech" will bring trouble . She shivered at the thought. I guess I should find one before they find me Ode had stopped as she reached a simple park she had grown fond of since she has moved. Trees branches that lay low and the a good view. She climbed up the larger branches and enjoyed how the morning shaped the scene. Though she liked the quiet of alone time, she found its path being a bit dull. I should probably meet other people besides the usual classmates or clients...Possibly, she believe she could pick up a number or two if she tried. Or even better, a hunter. "It's my day off after all." she chuckled to herself.</s> <\|message\|>Roxy Black Roxy kept to the shadows as she stalked her target. The man she was following was accused of being an abuser. Most of the documents that she had found seemed to indicate that the person who had brought him to her attention had been telling her the truth. She wouldn't kill him until she had solid proof though. Rumor wasmy enough. She noticed that someone was following her. She had no idea how he spotted her or why he was following her but it pissed her off. She stormed towards the guy.</s> <\|message\|>Lars Crow Lars was a little taken back by the forwardness of the girl and just stood there with a look of surprise as she went up and down the isle with his basket. Now that he looked at her better she was very pretty, gorgeous even, and she seemed very cheerful. Her mood was clashing with his attempts to stay negative and he was kind of liking the bright sun in front of him. When she stared at him he blushed and scratched the back of his neck and looked away not being able o keep eye contact. "Okay fine. But I need to find the rest of this stuff before we go anywhere." He said as he took the basket back and continued back down the isle.</s> <\|message\|>Silvera Golders "K...So what's your name? I'm Silvera by the way!" She skipped alongside him as he went down the aisle, putting stuff into his basket. Her keen eyes observed all the potion ingredients. A silver moth's wing, the hair of a troll...He was probably planning on making some potion. Her hands lay on top of his though when he was about to put a jar of demon horns into his basket. "I thought they were dangerous. You should be careful." She knew this guy had magic. She could feel it faintly as well as him being able to take all the magical items as well. Demons horns were...let's say she didn't have the best experience with it. It ended in lots of fire and screaming and cursing. She chuckled at the thought. Most fun she'd had in ages though.</s> <\|message\|>Annelise Hansen The following morning after work, Annelise headed down to Main Street to buy her usual breakfast which consisted of a butter croissant with a side of hot chocolate. Whenever she wasn't in the mood to make herself some eggs, which was nearly every morning, she would go down to the busy coffee shop and spend some time down there reading one of her old anatomy books. Just because she couldn't handle medical school at the moment didn't mean the subject intrigued her any less. Annalise hadn't gotten much sleep last night, and dark circles underneath her eyes were a clear indication of that. She wore a simple grey sweater dress and maroon boots, nothing that screamed for attention, and her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail. Since recent rumors about hunters were spreading as of late, Annelise tried her best to fit in as much as possible with the general population. "Miss, what would you like?" the woman behind the counter asked Annelise, distracting her from her daydreams. "Oh, right. just a croissant and a hot chocolate, please." "We're out of croissants for the day, sorry." "Oh..." Annalise was clearly disappointed, but she ordered a hot a chocolate and decided she would simply hold out until lunchtime. After paying for the drink and getting her order, she went back outside to take a scroll before she had to run errands for the day.</s> <\|message\|>Elizabeth Redding "You were looking very ticked off, and you seemed to be searching for someone. I was just wondering who it was and what they did. Maybe I can help you find them." Alex spread his arms open, to show that he didn't mean her any harm. That said, if the reverse wasn't true, he was ready for a fight. It was simply who he was.</s> <\|message\|>Roxy Black Roxy glared at the man. He was either stupid or crazy. Either way she didn't want to deal with him. She was losing an opportunity to take out her target, which just pissed her off more. She pulled one of knives and held it where he could see it. This was usually enough to get people to leave her alone but somehow she had a feeling it wouldn't work with guy but she figure it was worth a try before things got nasty. "I don't need your help. Go away."</s> <\|message\|>Ode Bankhole Ode climbed down from her tree and looked around. One or two people in the crowds could be involved with witch craft and then there was he other few who were looking for them. If she were to sit back and watch closely, she could see the predators stalking the prey. Not that hunters are always predators, she thought. Ode felt a dangerous presence near her. She looked in the direction in where she felt, and saw rough middle aged man. It wasn't his dirty appearance that had caught her attention, it was a demon that would gnaw at him. It was a large demon, one that would rival five of her patients. Ode ran in his direction, and bumped into him. "Ugh," she murmured, shouldn't underestimate his build. "Sorry about that." She said, touching his chest, readying her spell. Ode looked up to the demon, and whispered the chants her parents would make her remember to push it from its host. The man would change expressions, one that would look to kill many to A dumbfounded look. He took a step back "Forgive me, I should'a dodged," he rubbed his neck, uncomfortable. She looked back to the demon who would try to eat at the magical barrier blocking away from his host. It would only be temporary. Ode look back to the man and gave him a lopped smile, "I shouldn't have ran, anyway." She opened her purse and took out a card with her contact info and gave it toe the man. "I'll be going now, contact me, and only me, if you're feeling sick again." Ode walked off, leaving the man confused. "Huh." He looked to the card and back at her, "How'd she know?"</s> <\|message\|>Elizabeth Redding "One of those, eh?" Alex shrugged. He'd seen more than a few hunters who turned their talents to less... savory pursuits when money got tight. It was an unfortunate hazard of the trade. His voice dropped as his fingers started straying towards his gun. "Listen. I've got some problems I need dealt with. Problems that are too big for me to deal with on my own. If you come with me, I can tell you all about them, and can offer a decent check once the job is done." He smiled. "Fair enough?"</s> <\|message\|>Roxy Black Roxy saw the man's hand moving towards his gun. She was less then impressed by the threat. Her knife would reach him before his bullet reach her. She laughed at his proposal. She shook her head. "You are either stupid or crazy. What makes you think I have any interest in your problems. Even if you could afford me which I seriously doubt." She wouldn't take just any job. She was very particular about who she killed.</s> <\|message\|>Ode Bankhole Ode had walked in a daze for awhile. It's odd seeing a creature at large taking over a human. Surely she could find him later as the spell she casted worked as a good tracker. Hopefully he would take the time to call for an appointment or Ode would have to take him by force. She sighed at the thought and looked around, finding herself in the "dirtier" side of the town. "Woah," she murmured as she noticed at a post-battle happening before her. Surely, they do realize there are people around, unless they're desperate. Ode took out her phone and walked up to the two, putting up a barrier around her if things get ugly. "Sorry to intrude!" She cut through. "Put your weopons away, or I will call the police!" She held close to her phone, don't want you to be snatched little one.</s>	<\|message\|>Annelise Hansen "Hey, watch where you're going!" Annelise shouted to the driver of the vehicle that had nearly ran her over as she was crossing the street. She had to react quickly in order to avoid being seriously injured or killed. The driver, none the wiser, waved a half-assed "sorry, my bad" and sped off. But Annelise had already memorized his license plate, A0K69, and to make matters worse for the driver, there weren't many orange cars in town. Not this flashy, at least. She would eventually go to Scott with that information and convince him to help her find the idiot. Annelise was walking at a rather accelerated speed through the park, deciding to take out her phone and use its map to help her find the small mom and pop shop where her mother liked to buy the candles from. She had been dragged out there before many years ago, but she wasn't particularly good with directions. Just as she was able to locate the store, she clumsily walked into someone much more taller than herself. Annelise gasped in surprise, then whispered a quick apology to the man and the young woman by his side who appeared to be his girlfriend. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," Annelise smiled, feeling her cheeks growing warm as she pointed at her cell phone.</s>
<\|description\|>Margaret "Meg" Flinktistein Age: 16 Gender: Female Personality: Beneath innocent grey eyes lies a cunning, smart, and rather blunt girl. She can look at a person and size them up, wondering what weak points they would have and where. But besides that, she's a pretty okay friend, and will often want to join in on pranks on other classmates. Though she is intelligent and makes good grades, she has two things that brings her grades a bit lower than average; laziness and procrastination. She usually sleeps in class when the assignments are being handed out, and at least every teacher at her old schools would yell at her to wake up during class. Despite all the trouble she causes with sleeping in, she seems to always have her projects done and an A or B on every quiz and test. She will either be seen with friends or just reading a book, and occasionally playing with small animals by moving their arms and legs and seeing how they react; it is her way of playing with them. Rarely, you can see her experimenting on things such as electronics, animals, and possibly bombs. During certain times of the year, she will be in a bad mood and become sarcastic and mean the whole time she is interacting with people. She will sass anyone on her nerves, and seems to be a flaming ball of drama queen on that dark day. Background: Meg grew up in a fairly stable household, with a loving mother and a working father. She and her father would look at the stars and point out which planet or star it was: "Star Number 239 seems a bit dimmer than usual; it might die soon." Her mother would try to teach her cooking and the such to prepare her for a husband, but Meg always forgot the ingredients and a smoke bomb would go off in the kitchen. This all suddenly came to an end when they got divorced. It was so sudden, so strange, so… unnatural. Even at a young age, Meg knew her parents still deeply loved each other. But why did they break up? To this very day she still wonders why. Her father began working very late and had less time to spend with her. She concocted a plan to spend time with him by reading his textbooks with him and helping him with projects. He once taught her how to make a bomb. Thinking back to it now, Meg was never suspicious as to why her father was learning about bombs or humans or such. Meg came home one day from middle school to an empty house. No trace was left of her father in that home. He had taken everything he loved and ran away from the memories of the house she stood in. Her grandmother took care of her from then on. Her grandmother, Yesda, was a strict woman, and tried shaping Meg into a fine young lady like her mother and Yesda herself. This failed when Meg learned the ways of procrastination and being lazy, which made her less and less feminine each day. Finally, Yesda gave up and sent her to Kosei, knowing all too well about her granddaughter's Quirk. She said, and I quote, "This place will probably teach her a thing or two about being responsible and becoming a hero like her grandfather." Quirk Info Class: Mutant Name: Supernatural Sight Info: The Quirk of seeing through objects has been passed down from her mother's side of the family since the very beginning. Since her mother had the ability to see through electronics to find out what they were made of and how she would disable them, and her father could see very clearly miles ahead of him no matter what, the two Quirks were mixed and it came out as seeing things far ahead and seeing through objects. She usually use this to her advantage in a fight when fire or smoke is involved, and this is always great when trying to disarm an enemy or disable an electronic. Talents/Other Info: 1. Meg is good at hiding animals in her clothing to play with for later. She plays with them when she is not sleeping in class. 2. Occasionally she will build tiny robots to scare her friends and spy on her acquaintances. 3. Leaving your phone with her is unwise; she'll break it accidentally or forget it in a store or even her room, then sigh and say it's too much trouble to get now. 4. She likes video games fairly well, but doesn't play too often. She gets a ton of inspiration from games that involve robots, cool armor, and guns. She is definitely up for watching some friend of hers play. 5. She likes to draw cartoons of herself and her friends; it fills up her time and keeps her from boredom. She shows the images to her friends and makes extra cash on kids who want a story along with them. Whether the stories are true or not are up to her.</s> <\|message\|>Tula Kealoha Tula Kealoha --- There were numerous excusable reasons why somebody would be late to class. Sick, Injured, unexpected villain situation on the way to school.. but this morning, Tula had the absolute inexcusable excuse as to why she was late. She slept past her alarm. "Ugh I'm late! So very late!" Tula muttered as she scurried across campus after having just arrived. If she was ever going to make her case for being Class Rep, this was definitely not the way to go about it and failure here was not an option. Her parents were both class reps and they were expecting their daughter to be one, too. There would have to be some later political schmoozing on her part with some of her classmates in order to better make her case that she is the candidate to represent them. Tula must have been only a few minutes late by the time she reached the classroom but her heart dropped the moment she peaked inside, not seeing a soul present. Her hand immediately went up and smacked her forehead, sighing in slight frustration. They had already left for the practice field. Her absence was likely noted already. Now, she was definitely playing from behind. There was no time to spare, especially if they were going to start the Quirk assessment test soon. She tossed her bag into the room and kicked off her shoes, wiggling her webbed toes as they got a chance to breath. She turned and closed the door, stretching out in a position like riding an imaginary surf board. Then suddenly, water blasted out from elbows, tibia region, and back propelling her forward as she used a slower release of water under her feet to hydroplane across the ground. The result was she was much faster than if she were to sprint. --- She was quick to catch up with her classmates, adding a stylized flourish when she was close enough to the back of the group by spinning once to a satisfying stop. Her maneuver was so smooth but there was a chance nobody noticed it aside from a nervous looking white-haired kid hovering around the back of the group. In fact, he was likely in the splash zone a bit. "Whew. Just made it. Tula said to herself, but it was meant for the kid to hear. She caught up and walked alongside the kid, leaning slightly next to him, "Hey, don't tell anyone I'm this late. It'll be our little secret, okay?" she whispered with a friendly wink. Tula returned to normal posture, walking alongside the kid for a moment before trying to strike up more of a conversation. "So do you think you are ready for these tests? I already know what to expect so I think I'll do well in all these tests." She sounded confident but darted a quick glance to the kid and remembered her audience. "I'm sure you'll do well, too. I'm Tula, by the way." She'd offer a handshake but usually people didn't appreciate a getting their hand all wet.</s> <\|message\|>Tori Masui The Professor The professor nodded as the students filtered out, before beginning one more time. "The hallmark of every hero is that they know their strengths and weaknesses. Some of us have few weaknesses, some of us have many. However it is important to understand that no matter how many weaknesses you have, if you can overcome more weaknesses than another man even has, then you are a far stronger man than you could ever be." The professor adjusts his tie slightly, before adding "Ladies, I use man in the sense of humans, not in the sense of your heterochromatic brethren." "What we will do next is very simple. The rest of today will be taken up by you students going through a number of simple tests. Where before, you were not allowed to use your quirk, now you can, for indeed the entire raison d'etre for this establishment is to train you in the use of your quirk. For example, Tori, can you please step forward." The girl looked surprised, before doing as the professor said. "Although some of you may not know what it is for various reasons, we are standing in front of a long-jump pit. Tori, what was your highest score when you weren't using your quirk?" The student once again looked surprised, before saying, "I think maybe… 5.3 meters? I was always good at it regardless, but…" The professor cut her off. "Tori, now try taking the long jump again, but you are allowed to use your quirk in any which way you please." Tori grinned and nodded, before taking a run up, her wings flashing out and allowing her to easily glide almost three times the length of the pit with just a few beats of her wings "Of course, not all of you will suit well to these tests! Some of your quirks will not help you, or perhaps even hinder you in your efforts. Over the course of this year, and any subsequent years you stay here, you will measure your improvements in these same tests. The ones that you excel in are irrelevant. The ones that you fail in… Those are the ones that we shall be focusing on." "Now, who would like to go next for the long jump?"</s> <\|message\|>Lazarus Zale Lazarus smirked in excitement, he wondered how Garika quirk would do against his own, "interesting" he said to himself. Soon enough it was time to meet up with the professor for the long jump. Lazarus made his way, meeting a boy who had been waiting excitedly for them. It seemed as though Dante was here as well, conversating with the girl who had wings. The professor explained that we would be able to use our quirk for our exercises and that it was a test to assess our strengths and weaknesses. Lazarus was happy having a wide grin, his powers were more of a jack of all trades. The professor used the falcon girl named Tori as an example for the first exercise, she glided farther than the length of the pit with a couple of flaps. "that's a cool quirk" Lazarus said under his breath. The professor asked who wanted to go next, Lazarus hand shot up first, and walk out to the front of then pit, though Lazarus is a guy who is all fun and games but he wants his presence to be known, he was a ambitious fellow. Lazarus took a couple steps back and inhaled deeply before taking his running start, picking up speed, he took a hard stomp with his left foot before jumping and a rock pillar protruded from the ground under his foot , Lazarus used the thrust from the pillar to propel Himself into the air after which the the rockpillar retracted into the ground. When Lazarus landed he nearly fell but caught himself, he walked back to the group. "My quirk is called Earth Lord, I can control the ground otherwiseknown as, Geokinesis" Lazarus said smirking, he took a spot at the front of the group, clear of view so that he was able to see the capabilities of the others. Thought he doubt anyone was getting score higher than Tori, 15.6 meters was the score to beat for anyone without wings.</s> <\|message\|>Kaito Hamasaki Kaito Kaito quickly introduced himself to both Garin and the girl who waved back at him. "Of course I'm excited! Who wouldn't be?! Nice to meet you both! The name is Kaito!" He smiled back, managing to at least get their introductions out of the way before The Professor began the lecture. As it turned out, he was only half correct about the activity being a physical one, but he never would have expected them to use their quirks early on in the semester. It was just the kind of lesson he was looking forward to, improving his quirk is the reason why he enrolled into this academy after all. After witnessing Tori and Lazarus, he whistled a note like if he was impressed by how Lazarus utilized his quirk. "A bird and a rock man eh? There's a joke somewhere in there! But, still those are some pretty awesome quirks! You should watch me now!" He commented just as he walked by Lazarus with a smile on his face. "Alright! I'm up next! Let's do this!" Kaito felt pretty pumped up at the moment as he quickly went over to his spot and got into running position. His own personal record is 4.9 meters, without including his quirk of course. He had set his eyes to focus on one particular spot near the end of the track, it was time for his quirk to shine! After he ran and took the leap of faith, he instantly teleported at the last second while he was sailing through the air and landed roughly 28.7 meters away from the starting point. Some of the distance got shaved off, but that didn't matter to Kaito, he was extremely satisfied with his new score. "Yes! I beat both of your scores! Let's see the rest of you top that!" He shouted excitedly to his classmates from the opposite end of the track, wishing to spark some competition by raising the bar a little. After he went off to the side, he made his back to the group with his hands folded behind his head and had a cheeky grin on his face. He stood next to Lazarus on his left side, wanting to observe the others as well. "My quirk is called Point to Point! I can teleport anywhere and anything I want, like so!" He stated and appeared on Lazarus' right side now in a blink of an eye, just messing with him in a playful fashion. He purposely provided little information of his quirk not wishing to expose his weaknesses right off the bat, although he was already starting to show it off more than necessary. ---</s>	<\|message\|>Margaret "Meg" Flinktistein Meg nodded her head to Kaito. "Kaito? Call me Meg," she said with a smirk. Man, how excited could he get? Very, apparently. Especially about these physical tests. She shrunk a little as she listened to the professor. Jumping? Oh, God knows she wasn't good at this. She wasn't good at physical things, but she sure could try her best. Would she be the best? Definitely not. She stared in awe at the first girls jump. She had wings? Great, this was going to be harder than she thought; she couldn't top wings. She quickly looked over to Lazarus as he used an earth pillar to help him jump. And then she watched Kaito teleport away form the starting point. Her smirk still stood on her face, but she trembled. Good thing she hadn't unpacked yet. "M-My turn? I-I guess." Meg sighed as she stepped up a few feet from the starting point, her fussy clenched and her eyes determined. She knew she would fail this, but everyone had to fail sometimes, right? That's what she thought. She closed her eyes, then took a breath as she began to run. She hoisted herself into the air with her right foot, feeling the wind rush past her face. She landed with a stomp that shook her all over, but she luckily didn't fall. "Hey! I did it!" She raised her fists into the air in celebration, panting for breath. "I-" She turned around to realize... She was about 1 meter away form the point. She slumped over slightly, sighing to herself. "Great... Screwed that up..." She trudged over to where Kaito and Lazarus were standing, ignoring their excited looks. "...This isn't my forte, as you can see..."</s>
<\|description\|>Ender Kazetani "The inner workings of the human heart is much like the flow of electricity. Given energy, its vibrancy cannot even be challenged by the brightest star. But deprive it of that spurring source, and it ceases to exist." And in this corner, we have the meek yet equally cuddly youth known as Ender Kazetani. And yes, to answer your question, the hair's color is all natural. Boy, did quite a few question marks pop up above his father's head when he saw blue tufts of hair sprouting from that little adorable infantile scalp of his. Now fast forward fourteen years and we are faced with the culmination of his father's efforts and society's education. And, welp, that doesn't exactly amount to much... but who cares! Despite his short stature, the boy walks with full faith in his resolve and lets nothing deter him. His eyes share an almost identical hue with his hair, both of which are unique aspects. Rumor has it that 0's and 1's run vertically down his eyes, but that's probably just people blowing things out of proportion. He's not heavily built, but as a tinkerer, he can put in some elbow grease. Stands at 5'6" and weighs 118 lbs. One eye-catcher is that he always, always, always has his headphones on his person. Even in the shower. Don't ask. Under close inspection, one can see that his fingers are ridden with scars from countless hours at the workbench. --- Age: smol Fourteen Gender: Male --- Personality: With his heart in the present and on a one-way course deadset for the future, Ender takes on the obstructions lying in his path with determination. Denoted by his childish and ebullient personality, upon first meeting people find it hard to believe that he's at the technological vanguard of his generation. Only thing more awe-inspiring is his ability to actually get stuff accomplished due to all of the manga and anime the kid watches. He continually defies fate to no avail and develops a multitude of armaments or ordinary contraptions in his free time, albeit a good portion of them don't always work as mentally envisioned. He has the tendency to weave in manga colloquialism with realistic situations. Steadfast is a word usually attributed to Ender. Although he comes off as carefree, when the plot suddenly thickens and takes a twist, he dons a more serious demeanor. In fact, he keeps within a side of him that heavily contrasts with his usual temperament, but those who catch a glimpse of it seem to forget quite quickly. He holds true to his beliefs and doesn't hesitate to act upon them in a curt and acute fashion. But when it comes to academics, quick wit is where the road pretty much ends... at the edge of a cliff. Ender is nowhere as attentive with his studies as some of his friends, and tends to tinker with projects on his desk rather than listen to a lecture. Since he is constantly connected to electronics, he finds it borderline impossible to do the latter. A defining quirk of Ender's is the manner in which he speaks. He tends to use technological lingo, such as rather than stating that he's tired, he prefers to say "My battery charge is almost out." A couple other fancied phrases are "Ender.exe has stopped working," or "My hard drive has cra- heheheheh that's what he said," and other stuff of the sort. Backstory: The world's a pretty crappy place, eh? Well, for argument's sake, it beats living in the vacuum of space... But it's still a challenge to not look upon the great expanses of city streets, infrastructure, transportation, and the people propagating all of the above with animosity. Yet this is not the case with Ender. It is true that he is one of the many who have been treated indifferently, the loss of a life close to him failed in forcing him to deviate from his sanguine outlook. As a man bound by his job and now also a widower, his father found it hard to be an electrical engineer and a father at the same time. So why not coalesce the two tasks into the same agenda? Brilliant. And that's not sarcasm, it actually was a strike of intelligence. This was the awakening spark, no pun intended. It soon became evident that the boy had a knack for the field, but even more disconcerting, he was not hindered by the absence of a maternal figure in his household. Ender's father held true to the olden ways and techniques of his line of work. Quirkless, he had to find a way to compete with opposing companies vying for profit. Even after it became evident that his son beared a quirk that would indefinitely give him an edge, he did not exploit this revelation. Nor did he force his son onto the job. Ender willingly volunteered to be his father's shadow no matter what task he had taken on, and in turn, the man taught him how to troubleshoot his way through issues without using his Quirk as a crutch. The two were inseparable, with the younger almost as efficient at the profession than the former. But what if Mr. Kazetani and his innocent son were apart during a hectic event? Ender distinguished himself when a power plant was on the verge of going over the point of no return after a brief earthquake. With his quirk, he helped the on-site team remedy the discord within the plant's systems long before TEPCO and local organizations could arrive. Had it been left up to these groups, they would have surely not made it in time. Financial aid was definitely one of the academy's most alluring traits, but given Ender's partial-Mutant side, his Quirk was deemed somewhat volatile. Oh. Aaaaaand he didn't get past the written tests, season finales and whatnot were far more demanding. --- Hero Name: Voltaic Quirk: Galvanic Connection Classification: Emitter with Mutant properties: A quirk that stands out from the rest and is, well, quirky. Ender was born with the capacity to "hear" electronics, more specifically the current of power flow and their inner workings, and discern their specific location among the technological mass society has been engulfed by. Additionally, once an entity is discerned, he can manipulate electrical currents and forcibly move the solid objects they are coursing through. But there are a handful of contingencies and shortcomings to the ability, one being that it lacks an "off" feature. In layman's terms, anything around the boy utilizing any energy is constantly blaring at him. Silence is a delicacy he has never been offered the basic human right to indulge in. Another drawback is that he needs time, albeit not a lot, to concentrate and pinpoint whatever he is attempting to isolate. He can only exert a certain extent of control upon isolated locus, such as turning off lights or other medial tasks of the sort. Now onto his ability to preside over the flow of power through them, and their kinetic movement depending on what they're connected or built into. Wanna turn the light off before heading to be, no need for confrontation on the physical plane! If his remote control is outside of arm's reach, no need to exert any energy to reach for it. The possibilities are endless, yet as expected due to his age, there is a nerf written in bold ink. Moving around electronics drains him of his energy conversely with the size and intricacy of the particular he's trying to control. The most he's tried to do is wiping out a city block, but he was only able to halt the flow of electricity for a few moments before succumbing to fatigue. The crème de la crème of Ender's contraptions that consistently work. Although bludgeoning evil-doers with traffic lights and other provisional items is a plausible strategy, the boy went the extra mile and crafted something that was forged with his own sweat, blood, and love for moe waifus. The Clockwork Cannon. Roughly seven feet in length, two feet wide and two feet tall,if it wasn't for the lightweight metal it was composed on, the aspiring hero would easily be crushed in an attempt to haul it. In addition to its metallic exterior are multiple lines of silver that serve as accentuation, and rows of four gears with a clock in the middle on the twelve, three, six and nine o'clock positions. The analog clocks are contained in a bronze-hued housing, the same color as the gears on both of their sides. The cannon itself fires specialized ammunition that Ender painstakingly crafts himself. Rather than relying on gunpowder to fire the rounded balls of lightweight metal similar to that of the Cannon, the weapon actually uses the concentrated released of electricity in addition to Ender's quirk to propel them. Nice thing is, the projectiles still maintain their charge to give their targets an electrifying meeting. The weapon also suffices for a melee role. Its muzzle can collapse on itself, forming a triangular end that can be used for offensive combat. --- And all the rest: "Lolis, tsunderes, kuuderes, childhood friends. You name them, I've conquered them! In the 2D world... -cries in a corner-" Talents/Hobbies: * Otaku Trash - ...Needless to say he loves his waifus. * Technological Affinity - Not even a Samsung phone, a device more Korean than Girls' Generation eating kimchi next to a portrait of Kim Il Sung, than be pitted against this kid when it comes to electronics. Ender is an active- no, a devout gamer. He has conquered many a waifu throughout his numerous campaigns. He may or may not have not already constructed a master case with a built-in PC and PS4 specifically designated for traveling. Themes: Lyrics</s> <\|message\|>Margaret "Meg" Flinktistein Margaret Flinkstein Meg was barely paying attention to the teacher. She heard rules, then she drifted off to a small kind of dazed sleep. Of course she was tired; she had to come a long way from Yesda's house to here. She needed and loved sleep, and no teacher was going to stop her now. No teacher had ever stopped her before, either. As the Professor exited the classroom, she opened an eye to look around at her surroundings. An obviously embarrassed boy talking to Tori, one of her roommates. A guy getting super pissed about a bat the teacher took away. Mine wasn't doing much; just the same as Meg was doing herself. 'Whatever,' she thought roughly, standing up from her desk with a stretch. 'Yesda said I should at least make some friends.' She scanned the classroom, boredly looking for someone to talk to. After a minute or so, she sat back down with a faint frown. Oh, come on. Who would want to talk to her, anyway? Everyone seemed preoccupied with themselves or making other friends, and Meg hated barging in on conversations. Pulling out a small robot-in-progress, she tediously began to work on it, staring intensely at the object of her interest.</s> <\|message\|>Dante Mathers Dante Mathers Dante was awestruck as Lazarus described his powers. The ability to move the ground? Earth? That was so cool! "Woaaah, your quirk sounds awesome!!" He said as he watched the boy lie down in his bed. Then he began asking questions about his quirk. "Yea they grow back. Only takes about a day or two." He said as he touched his teeth. "And I can bite pretty hard, I haven't tested on too many things. I only really rest on things I wouldn't mind eating" He laughed a little, before covering his mouth again. He lay over the edge of the bed so that he could look at the boy below him. "But the hardest thing I have bitten was a coconut. That was pretty easy though, so I could probably do a lot more." He had finally relaxed when another man entered the room. His presence startled Dante, causing him to almost fall off his bunk. He managed to catch himself before he fell, but the man didn't seem to want to introduce himself. He walked out shortly after as well. "Huh, that was weird" He muttered to himself in English. The bell suddenly rang and Dante jumped a little. He quickly grabbed his stuff before turning to his roommate. "I'm gonna head on ahead, see you in class Lazarus" He said with a wave. He soon arrived to the classroom. After entering, he noticed that there were people of all sorts in his class. He saw one girl that looked like she had scars on her face. There was another that had wings. She seemed to be an animal mutation like he was. He couldn't help but stare at her wings as he walked past. "Wings are so cool" He muttered in English as he walked past her. He quickly took a seat in the classroom, waiting excitedly for their teacher to arrive. All of a sudden a man appeared in the classroom. He appeared to be a teacher, and offered a bow. After a short lecture on rules, it appeared as though they were going to do some kind of outside exercise today. Dante excitedly got up and began following the group. As he was walking he began looking at the other members of his class. There was the guy from before that made a bit of a scene in front of the professor, he scared him. There was the girl with scars, she scared him. In fact, most of these guys scared him. The gravity of the situation finally reached him, he was surrounded by people who were stronger than him. People who could do amazing things while he was going to be left in the dust. But as he was walking he noticed an odd sound. It sounded like music, but everyone had left their devices at the room. He looked around to see that the girl from before, the one with wings, she had a set of headphones around her neck. He suddenly saw an opportunity. He had read that common interests are the best way to form good friendships, and music was his big thing! "H-Hello" He said as he walked quicker to catch up to the girl. "M-My name is Dante. I noticed you were an animal mutation" He smiled nice and wide and pointed to his teeth. "Me too, I got a little shark blood in me" He said with a nervous giggle. There wasn't a lot of people that seemed to be mutations in this class, so he was happy that there was at least one that had a physical change too. That said, he was a little intimidated by the girl. She appeared to have tattoos on her face. Not that he didn't like tattoos, but it was something he hadn't really seen before. But he decided to mention the reason he had walked over. "Oh, I also saw your headphones." He said as he pointed to them. "I-I love music too. What's your favourite kind?" He tried his best to smile without showing too much of his teeth. He figured if anyone knew what that was like, it might be her, but he was still a little weary.</s>	<\|message\|>Ender Kazetani (I did what I could gonna knock out meow) The bus jostled forward after it picked up the remainder of passengers and parted from the stop rejoin the flows of traffic. Among the headcount were generic, borderline identically white collar businessmen and women, newspapers and phones practically glued to their hands displaying how poorly the one yen coin was doing. There were also your average folk, average trade workers, average children... in general, the layout was quite, surprisingly enough, average. Save for one denizen on this voyage for however many stops he needed to traverse. This boy was anything but nondescript. It wasn't that he looked out of the ordinary. In fact, he was a member of the Japanese teenage populace whose hair was somehow naturally different from the norm, kinda like the stuff you only find in manga or with trope-bound anime characters. But this is real life, so genes was obviously to blame here rather than a narrow cerulean palette.</s>
<\|description\|>Tula Kealoha Age: 15 Gender: Female Personality: Due to copious amounts of instruction and oversight by her parents, Tula can be considered a model Hero. She is a natural leader, trying to take charge of a leaderless situation. She is rather noble in her actions and her pursuits, often seeking the apparent good decision in life. Many would describe her to be a bit flavorful, with a colorful optimism that lingers even on the rainiest of days. Not all of Tula's traits are good, however, and being forced into her leadership roles is, perhaps, not the best for her. She isn't too bright and easily distracted with the paramount distraction coming from her being a bit of a hot head. Her nurtured background has given her a sense of privileged and maybe too much so, because she is likely to be stubborn on opinionated things and petty when challenged. Background: Tula was blessed enough in her life to be the only daughter of an upper class duo of foreign Heroes. Thus, her childhood was one that was rather well off, but much was expected of her as she was growing up. Her parents, hailing from Hawaii originally but moved to Japan later in their marriage, had desired Tula to follow their role as leaders of society by being a Hero, regardless of Quirk. Some say the move was due to Tula's parents afraid that their daughter might outshine their legacy a little too much, but that is probably just a silly rumor. Throughout her whole life, she remembers her parents constantly badgering her about trying to model her into a Hero. They were always pushing her to score highly on tests and was pushed continuously to exercise regularly. Thankfully, Tula did have some matter of say in what exercise she wanted to pursue and found dancing to be rather relaxing despite pressured existence. Of course, martial arts was mandatory to be paired along with whatever Tula was doing to better prepare her for her future as a Hero. Why Kosei? Her father was an alumni, while her mother was not. On the verge of Tula's graduation from middle school, the topic of what academy she was going to attend was hotly debated. Eventually her father won after both of them bet Tula's admittance on a sparring duel between the both of them. Father lucked out and got the victory. Quirk Info Name: Water Physiology Class: Mutant Tula's body has completely altered to support a more amphibious lifestyle. She has two respiratory systems, one that allows her to breathe air, and the other that allows her to breathe underwater through gills. Not only that but webbing between her fingers and toes allows her to swim faster while her body has smoothed and her hair altered to offer little or no resistance while in the water. Among the changes, Tula has a whole system dedicated to keeping her body moist while outside the water. Sacs line just underneath her skin that continuously keep water moving to the surface of her skin to avoid drying out. These sacs offer a unique opportunity for offensive maneuvers as they can 'flexed' to propel water out like a firehose. While Tula's Quirk has offered her unique abilities, they can expose her to dangers. The water layer does protect from fire and heat but there is a risk of drying out if she cannot stay hydrated. Similarly, she is a superconductor for electricity and attacks harnessing electricity will have a greater, more devastating effect on her. For Tula to succeed, she would have to end fights sooner if she does not have a ready source of water nearby. Staying hydrated is the key to Tula's endurance as well as avoiding potential hazards like electrical attacks. Talents/Other Info: Due to proper conditioning brought on by rather stricter parents, Tula has training in martial arts as well as dancing. The result is that she has ended up mixing the two and seeks to seamlessly blend the two art forms into a fine craft for her future as a Hero.</s> <\|message\|>Dante Mathers Dante Mathers Dante watched as the professor carried off the injured girl. He was relieved to see that she was going to be okay, it didn't seem like it was too bad an injury, but you couldn't be totally sure. He looked back at the group to see that most of the people had already done their jump, even someone he hadn't seen here before. He took a deep breath started walking to the pitch to run. He looked over the pitch and everything began to twist and turn in front of him doing these types of things by himself was hard enough, but when so many people were watching it was near impossible. He did his best to calm his nerves, and started running as fast as he could. Once he reached the end of the pitch, he jumped as far as he could. "This is it!" He thought to himself. "I think this will be my best jump ever!" He was so distracted by his thoughts, that he forgot about the part where you were supposed to land. His foot hit the ground unexpectedly, causing the rest of him to slam into the sand. After a few moments he sat up and looked around, his cheeks turning bright red. He stood up and dusted himself off, before checking his distance. 1.83 meters. "Well that's not too bad" Dante muttered to himself as he looked around. It seemed as though there were more people in his position than he had originally assumed. Quirks were sometimes pretty situational, so there was a chance that some of them might not even get to show off their powers at all. He hoped that everyone would get a chance to though, he was excited to see the other kinds of interesting quirks the class might have. But there was one test he was looking forward to the most. It was the one test that he knew he could do well in. He suddenly remembered that everyone else in the class had given themselves some kind of introduction. He looked around at the group for a moment before he blushed. He had never liked interacting with one or two people in an uncontrolled environment, let alone a class group like this. And they had just seen him face plant into a bunch of sand, it's not like there was anything he could say to cover that up. He let out a sigh as he resigned to his fate before turning to face the group. "My name is Dante. My quirk isn't good for this kind of test..." He said as he made his way over to the group of people who had already finished the test. He made sure to take a place near the people he had already met, namely Lazarus and the bird girl. They already knew he was a bit of a ball of nerves, so it helped him relax a little. He stood in silence as he waited for anyone who still had to complete the test.</s> <\|message\|>Lazarus Zale Lazarus Lazarus was annoyed at how his score was beaten so quickly, he let out a deep sigh. "Guess that means I have room for improvement" When Kaito returned he stood right beside him explaining his quirk at teleportation and demonstrated by teleporting to the right side of Lazarus. It seemed like a useful quirk to say the least, "You may have beat me this time but lets see if you beat me on the next challenge" Lazarus said with a smirk as he watched Meg go next who got one meter, when she walked back he gave some words of encouragement. "Don't worry about it too much, some tests aren't gonna be suited to our strengths" he said giving a thumbs up. After going Dante came up to compliment their quirks, "Thanks Dante, that wasn't much of a display but you get the idea of my quirk" Next up was Hana who got 3 meters, she seemed pretty happy with her jump too as well. Lazarus had the basic idea that he was was gonna do just above average on each of the tests but never exactly top score. Next up was Electric boy or big baby, he seemed to have blown himself up into the crowd of students and let out a large discharge of electricity. The discharge seemed to have struck a personality change for Garin. Ender saved the class a trip to the nurses office by attracting the arcs of lightning using a small orb. Well except for one who was on the ground, crispy. Soon Garin and Anelli were on a trip to the school infirmary, 'The Professor' taking Anneli and Meg taking Garin. "They should be alright, hopefully" Lazarus said to the group. Next up was a late girl, she took her jump and apparently fell in the sand scoring a 0.3. she seemed pretty bummed out about it hiding her face as she returned to us. "Don't worry about it, this test is to show our weaknesses so that we can improve them" he said to Anna, he hovered his left hand over her back and used his quirk to take the sand off her clothes. It soon formed into a small ball of sand in his hand . "The names Lazarus, I control rocks and such" Lazarus said with a friendly smile. When he was done he let the ball of sand drop onto the ground. Next Ender went scoring a 2 meters, so far Lazarus had the third largest score out of everyone there. Ender walked back dejected, "We got plenty more tests" Lazarus said laughing and rubbing Ender's head messing with his hair. He kinda liked the guy he was always so optimistic and full of life in every action he took. @Jedly@FallenTrinity@Dannyrulx@Sam12435@Skepic@liferusher@Pudding@Animal</s> <\|message\|>Anna de Blois Anna @ineffable@Pirouette@FallenTrinity@Oliver@Pudding@Skepic@pkken@Sam12435@sharksama@Jedly@Animal@cloudystar@RumikoOhara@Dannyrulx One of the students got shocked while someone else was trying to use their powers to make the jump. Anna shocked back at the sight as she held both hands over her mouth in panic. Things like these just happened on these sort of schools like it was normal. Well Anna did kind of expect something like this to happen but already on the first day? Anna had taken her jump and headed back towards the group. As she walked back from her failure of a jump she noticed that a girl was looking at her. Shyly she turned her eyes the other way as she lowered her head down a little. Her body stiffened only knowing that someone was watching her. What if she did something wrong now, she will laugh at her most likely. When she was about to cry the girl spoke up to her stating that it was a good try and that it was only to learn and not for a score. Anna lightly looked up at her from the top of her eyes and gave a small smile. "Y-yea I guess, thank you at least hehe..." Anna laughed a little getting slightly embarrassed by the prais of the girl. Anna walked a bit more and stopped in her tracks. She carnised the skin of her face softly with the tips of her fingers to feel if it wasn't damaged all too bad. There was only some sand but nothing more. Her legs and arms also made it out pretty okay. Anna slowly brushed the sand from her clothes and body as someone walked up to her. He suddenly spoke to her, Anna looked back at him looking quite defensive from the expression on her face. Her hands both got placed in front of her lap where they neatly bundled themselves together. "Yea, I hope I'll do better next time." Anna flashed him a kind smile but from the look in her eyes it was clear she wasn't at all comfortable around the others of the group. As he grew closer Anna pulled her hands up higher and took a few steps back. She had both hands flat pointed at him in defensive position close to her face as her head was turned away with her eyes closed tight. She felt scared he moght have done something to her but after opening her eyes again she grew a little more comfortable. All the sand that was on her body floated just a few centimeters over her body. Surprised she looked at the sand in awe and back at the boy. "Oh sorry, I didn't realise you had a quirk like that hehe. I'm Anna, sorry if I make you feel like a treat. I'm not so good at meeting new people. Thanks for helping me at least." Anna tilted her head a little to the front again looking from the top of her eyes at him again with both her hands joined together in front of her chest. A shy smile appeared on her face again as thanks to his earlier deeds.</s>	<\|message\|>Tula Kealoha Long Jump, huh. It wasn't particularly what she had in mind for Quirk assessment so she wasn't really sure how her water jets would help her here. This also begged the question, does her hydroplaning count as long as she isn't touching the ground? Probably not, she guessed. Besides, that was a better trick to use for a ground speed test, which was even more likely given the current test. Tula planned on taking the test last to gauge where everyone else was and to come up with a plan. Obviously the wing girl would do well here, seemed tough to beat at first. Then that boy teleported. Could teleporting count as a jump? Well if his feet didn't touch… Darn. That looked impossible to beat. A few classmates followed and jumped posting less than impressive results. It didn't even seem like they used their Quirk, unless their Quirk was worthless in this test, which was possible. Up next was another boy, Blitzkrieg as he called himself. He was promising that his Quirk was going to be something volatile and Tula believed him taking a step back. It was better to be safe than sorry in this case. As the boy warmed up, electricity sparked from his hands. Electricity. Oh no. If there was one thing Tula hated, it had to be that. Even a static charge from a regular person was enough to taze her! She didn't like where this was going and since she was hovering around towards the back, she quickly retreated further so she could hide behind a tree dotting the perimeter of the field. Her bad feeling was justified as the boy blew up in a shower of sparks and soared right into the crowd, electricity whipping around dangerously close to hitting a few people before one arc actually got someone. The boy would be fine but that poor girl who got shocked was down for the count. If that had been Tula, she'd be out cold and her heart just may skip a beat or two from that electrical discharge. Note to self: avoid that guy. Following the conclusion of that, the professor was about to carry the injured girl away but a few more still had to take test, Tula included! He must have remembered as he stopped and a few more took the test. They took their tests and it looked like everybody was about to leave. Didn't they remember she still had to take it? Oh. She was late and was sneaky around the back of the class. Wait. WAIT! "Wait!" Tula called out as she darted from behind her cover, figuring it was safe enough with Thunderstorm, or whatever his name was, out of the way. Tula had a running start, webbed wet feet slapping against the pavement and quickly approached the mark to jump. She had no great plan. She was just going to turn on the jets and give it a shot. She leapt up in the air and fanned herself out evenly so that she would be better balanced from the sudden thrust. Once at the peak of her jump, she let several high pressure jets of water from her hands and feet propelling herself forward. It was honestly pretty tough to control and due to a slight shake from her hand, she ended up spinning slowing her momentum forward and just spinning very rapidly in the air. What might have been smart to do is angle her thrust down at an angle somewhat instead of just roughly parallel to the ground as she hit the sand pretty soon after she started spinning. Momentum still pushed her forward even though she landed backwards, now facing her classmates, and ended up falling back onto her rump. Even though that was less than elegant, she checked her distance. 8.43 m Good enough. She gave the class a thumps up and joined the rest of them.</s>
<\|description\|>Auz of Bavaria Epithet: Auz the Undying Age: 462, but only about a youthful 27 in appearance. Height: 5'10" Weight: 150 pounds Race: Human, semi-immortal Weapons and Equipment- Steel cuirass, tassets, greaves, half helm, and gauntlets. The works, you know. 120 cm straight sword steel buckler Two knives, a stiletto with a 7" blade and a gauche dagger with a 12" blade. Appearance- Auz is slender but sturdy man, with a light blonde bowl cut and large, blue eyes rimmed in red, as if he rarely gets good sleep. He has cruel eyebrows and usually wears a leonine expression, that of a man ready to fight to the death at a moment's notice. Over his heart is the tattoo of an ouroboros. Abilities/Skills- Auz is an aggressive, calculating swordsman who employs techniques from the German School of Fencing, as well as irregular moves of his own design. He's highly versatile and creative with his long sword, able to use it in just about any way that can be imagined. Additionally he's skilled with his two knives and at using his buckler as a weapon, and has no qualms about using any part of his body to fight. Physically, he's got a heavy lean towards speed over power. He's frightfully fast, a sort of Bruce Lee among fencers, so to speak. Naturally it's not possible to swing a sword as fast as a fist, but regardless most warriors that encounter Auz for the first time are utterly taken aback by his diabolical swiftness. He's not overtly strong, per se, but can hold his own in a grapple. Auz is unable to physically age past 27, and has the ability to come back to life four times against any single opponent, hence his epithet. His body will resurrect within thirty feet of where he died after a period of ten to fifteen seconds, his corpse fading into a crimson glow than vanishes and then reappears in a random spot, which then forms into his fresh (and fully equipped) body. This means that in order for him to die for good, the same warrior would have to kill him five times in a 24 hour period. Every day that passes without him dying to that opponent will return a life to him, so that if an enemy kills him twice and then waits two days, said enemy will be back at square one. Perhaps it's a good thing for opponents that Auz isn't the type to retreat. Furthermore, every time Auz dies he becomes 25% faster than he was in his previous body for a period of twenty-four hours. On his last body against a single enemy, when true death looms, Auz will have gained a full 244% increase in speed. His body does indeed become somewhat tougher and stronger in order to withstand greater speeds, and yes, Auz can commit suicide if he kills himself five times in a day. Personality- Auz is cutting and sardonic, his dark wit (the man enjoys his one-liners) born from pessimism. He cares not for status or friendship, being a solitary soul in search of nothing but that which gives his life meaning; war. He doesn't like alcohol or other substances, and only enjoys the company of women after a battle. His solemn, irreverent mentality isolates him, but he's not necessarily a "bad guy". He fights for the underdogs when he can, and doesn't partake or suffer the killing of the helpless. That being said, he doesn't care for hostages. Should an opponent try to use another life as a bargaining chip, Auz would just as soon tell his adversary to go ahead and see how much worse of a death they'll get. Background- Auz was born in the age of Germanic kings, a disowned prince whose lineage was thrown into obscurity. From the moment he could walk, until he was fourteen, he was trained by the best fencers in the land. Before his next birthday he was given to a distant uncle and sent away, yet was quick to get into the fray and put his skills to the test. He killed his first opponent at age 15, and went on to become a mercenary. When he was 19, he encountered a Swiss witch that promised him a form of immortality in exchange for his immortal soul. He agreed, and she bestowed a tattoo of power upon him, that of an ouroboros, the serpent that endlessly eats its own tail. What had gone through Auz's head to make him accept the unholy bargain? Simple. He made up his mind that when he died, as all things inevitably do, he'd lay down the hurt on every single infernal entity that stood between him and the soul he'd sold, laying low demons and devils until he got it back. Not a likely outcome, but who can question the will of a resolute warrior until it's put to the ultimate test? He spend his adulthood mastering his trade, devoting himself to the way of the sword as he cut down foe after foe. Old Auz was a regular Musashi, and soon other fighters started seeking him out, desiring to make a name for themselves. The only names they got were those carved on their grave markers. Little else can be said of Auz. There were no dramatic affairs, no arch rivals nor emotional conflicts. He traveled, he fought, he did the hokey-pokey. Theme Music-</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne With a four foot blade and a 2.5 foot reach, the tip of Xaviers blade was a good six feet infront of him. Leaving only 2 feet between Auz and his blade. There was little to signal what was about to come next, only a faint and brief click from the swords hilt. Starting at the base of the hilt the blades 4 foot length began to extend rapdily. It created 16, 3in connected segments, effectively doubling the length of the blade in a second. The tip screamed through the air towards Auzs chest and would be able to extend an extra 2 feet beyond that.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne It was a good thing Auz had cleared his mind, otherwise he'd have probably been too confused to react immediately. As it was, his senses were fast enough to keep up with his body. He slid his right foot back, twisted his body sideways, and leaned away, all in the same, fluid motion with nearly flawless mechanical skill. Nearly. It had been a fast surprise attack, after all, there was little chance of Auz getting out unscathed. A normal stab would have glanced off of Auz's breastplate as he turned himself to the side, but at these speeds steel was but a paltry defense. A groove was gouged over Auz's right pectoral, biting into flesh and reaching the bone. Instead of shying away from the pain, Auz darted a blurring skip forwards along the outside of Xavier's extended weapon, paying careful attention to spacing to ensure that he could keep his opponent in slashin' range. Were Auz to get close enough, then with his left foot leading and his right crushing a furrow into the ground with the forces exerted, his raised sword would spite the air with its speed, literally whistling as it seared a horizontal arc for the base of the front of Xavier's neck. Auz wasn't hitting like a bantamweight anymore. From this point on, the intensity of his attacks would be of such magnitude that even a monster like Xavier might feel the old reaper looming behind him, a pair of bony hands massaging his shoulders. At any rate, this meant that Auz was reaching his blade over Xavier's own, but due to his superior acceleration, it'd be a nigh improbable feat for the blood-manipulator to bring his long right weapon up in time to guard. Mayhaps he could shorten his sword just as effectively for close combat, but even then the timing would be tighter than a triple granny knot.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor It was not necessary to use the right handed weapon, Xavier had feigned an opening for this very reason. The muscles of his upper left arm suddenly tensed as the first blade cut into Auzs arm. It had been wounded yes, but the metallic stitching across his wound was anything but a stitching. A quiet click sounded from his left arm just as the metallic strands on his arm began to gleam as they were retracted. The blade on his left hand began to expand as it was swung only a foot. In this instant another key feature of the blade was shown. Each blade segment was capable of shifting 160 degrees to either the left pr right. Xaviers swing generated an incredible amount of forward momentum as the segments began to be created. Upon the creation of the first his arm was snapped to a sudden stop, transferring the momentum towards the tip. It created a sort of wave with the sections that would begin small at the hilt. Only for the impact zone to grow as the blade flew. The air itself was torn by the blades force and perfect edges, creating dark red streaks in its wake. The attack zone went from 3 inches, to 2 foot across just before the intended horizontal impact with Auzs lower abdomen. With the speed of Auzs counter he would be hard pressed to make a successful dodge. Meanwhile, behind Auz, the first of the blades had circled back and was headed back to join the fight. It would only arrive a time after the first blade did or did not make contact.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Xavier might have expected his opponet to get close, but his feint was an opening before the superior speed of Auz. After all, the fleet swordsman's counter came immediately after Xavier's initial attack, and so at the very best Xavier could expect to launch his second at the same time as Auz's, whose blow would be faster, and hence might land first. If Xavier wasn't devoting any attention to stopping Auz's swing, then he'd probably wind up without a head. It'd be worth noting that since Auz was aiming for the base of the neck, the chance of Xavier having second thoughts and trying to duck or otherwise Matrix his way out (without having intended to do so until having seen the conclusion of his own counter) would be slim to none. He was trying to beat Auz at his own game. That being said, Xavier's attack probably would land, as Auz was in the midst of his swing. A single trade, a split second fight. The most likely result? Two deaths, Auz sheared by Xavier's whipswords, Xavier missing a significant fraction of his cranium. The ghosts of both warriors might even spit snarky insults as they waft upwards.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor Xaviers attention shifted for an instant to Auzs sword, it seemed a slight miscalculation had been made. Auz had become marginally faster than what had predicted and his sword seemed poised to sink this lesson home. However as quick as Xavier had realized this he also fashioned a rough plan. Visibly, Xavier buckled at the knees, knowing full well he would gain only inches before impact. Within his body blood and muscle began to shape and harden, specifically within his neck and upper right body. Outside the blood which had collected on his throat lurched towards the side of his neck. This blood would not move directly to the impact point, but instead to the outer perimeters of it. Here it would both harden and embed itself within Xaviers skin to connect with the already hardening tissue. The shape it created was similar to a half oval, with the top curve beginning near Xaviers jaw and the end near his collar bone. This would be supported by a series of stiffening muscles and layers of interior metallic blood to better absorb what impact would still be felt. The goal of this would be to "catch" Auzz blade by its cutting edge using the curved metallic barrier. The blade would cut into Xaviers skin a half inch before meeting this defense. Which if all went to plan would have the blade angled through his neck and out again, towards his right shoulder. Upon his shoulder the metal had created a type of pauldron which would cover from his sternum and lower right pectoral, up over his shoulder and to the bottom of his shoulder blade. His shoulder blade itself being an extra hunk of metal to cut through. The pauldron was 3 inches thick over the shoulder and thinned out to 2 inches across the rest. It was half the metal on his chest as the rest would not reach in time. Ontop of this pauldron Xavier's chest muscles had also locked up similar to his neck in anticipation of the damage in an effort to provide more stopping power. Impact. Xaviers buckled knees dropped his body and raised the impact zone of Auzs blade to below his jaw, in perfect alignment with the metallic curve. If all went well the blade would be given no point in the neck to unload its force, cutting only a chunk of meat from Xaviers throat before being sent to his chest. Second impact. Xaviers buckled knees come into play again, bowing heavily under the force to absorb whatever impact they would be allotted. The impact would be dispersed against the pauldron, his shoulder blade and outer rib cage as well as various muscles. All of which, except bone, would be attempting to compress ahead of its wounded counterparts to further wedge the blade in place. With any luck diagonally within and halfway through Xaviers right pectoral. Not a whimper or a grimace would come from Xavier as strings of his dark red blood flowed around the weapon, shifting to metal in piles along the blade to try and hold it in place. In his boot, a cut from earlier in the battle launches a spike into the ground in hopes of expanding once there and anchoring him. Xavier wanted Auz where he was, the other of his bladed whips was aimed for his back, with more than devious plans in mind. Should it hit, it would attempt to do so in Auz lower left back so that it may enter the body cavity and began to attack from within.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz's sword indeed got stuck, and at about the same time his right flank was cloven by one whip, opening a cut deep enough to make a gash in the base of one of his lungs, as the other sank into its destination, at the small of Auz's back. The immortal instinctively tried pulling his sword back after it had landed, only to find that due to his opponent's superior footing, he'd have only wound up jerking himself closer, well within the blood manipulator's reach. Then the pain hit him. It was so unexpected that he dropped his dagger and pissed himself. Auz tried to suck in a breath with which to scream, but halfway through, a load of blood surged up into his mouth and he jerked violently in revulsion. Nearly choking, grievously wounded, and with a sickening belch, Auz did the only thing he could do. If only to spite Xavier as some sort of last insult, Auz spewed the mouthful of blood at his opponent's face. SURPRISE. It was enough to get some sweet coverage, very possibly even getting all into Xavier's eyes and mouth. Auz would have traded his left nut at that moment for AIDs. He hoped that it would buy him enough time to actually verbalize a fitting farewell. One with a lot of nice curse words, and maybe a pun or two. (You still around mang? I intend to see this through to the end. The fat lady has only drawn breath.)</s>	<\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria If Xavier did nothing and froze up, Auz would pick his dagger back up and finish the fella off with a knife to the skull.</s>
<\|description\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Physically Appearing Age: 25 Actual Age: 100+ (Recently Reawakened) Race: Bloodbayne (Dread Energy Tainted Humanoid) Abilities --- [Level 3] By spending many years fighting wars, creatures and even others with powers like himself, Xavier has gained a vast knowledge of battle in various styles and with different weapons. It has allowed him to become an expert with all melee weapons and primitive ranged weapons. As well giving him great natural reaction speeds, which increase as he gets warmed up in battle. [Level 5] Speed and strength - The Dread Energy has set about a very drastic physical change within Xaviers body granting him a physical prowess well beyond what one would expect from a man of such small stature. The most powerful of his hits has been given the name 'Moon Crusher' however his body requires a sort of build up to such force. At any given moment however he could swing his fists to deliver a whopping 3000lbs of straight impact force. This type of swing is made all the more destructive with the additional weight and rigidity of Xaviers Dread Metal infused skeletal structure. The same essential thing could be said about his speed, the energy within his body has molded his muscles beautifully and while his motion is not a blur his acceleration is a sight to behold. There are more powers to show for Xavier. However this fight is calling only on a Level 5 variation.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz sat on a stump, polishing his sword. He was waiting for someone. A month prior, he had heard rumors of a supernatural warrior that frequented these parts. How does one get the attention of so rare and fearsome an opponent? Easy. Spread shitty rumors about their mother, and openly declare, in every tavern and pub, precisely what you'll do with their dismembered corpse. With power comes pride. Auz had little doubt the bastard would come and find him.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Nestled within a bushel of tree branches, Xavier stood upon a thick tree branch with his left hand resting against the tree. From within their cover he spied upon the man sitting upon the stump, his brow furrowed in a rough glare as the dark crimson light of his eyes smoldered in anger. There was something strange about this land that had caused the majority of his powers to be sealed away only to be seen on random occasions. Thankfully though he found that his physical enhancements were there to stay and so even though he was more than 150 paces from the man it was very clear that he matched the description of the big mouthed fool from town. Sunken black eyes, piss blonde hair in a butchered bowl cut and his starving face. Xavier replayed what was claimed to have been said by this man and in the beginning it had made him laugh. It had been well over 10 lifetimes since he had seen his mother so it wasn't until the man claimed to befoul a corpse he could not create that Xavier dropped his mug and marched into the forest. Now as he stood and stared while stewing on the matter his free hand began to twitch and throb before thin streams of blood began to ooze from the pores on his hand. Even his blood had been affected, it wasn't as easy to will it into action and its form was easily broken if he lost physical contact. Within a few seconds he held a handful of blood and his hand returned to normal just before the blood jumped and took the shape of slender dagger. Gripping its hilt tightly in hand he leapt from the branch he stood on to the one infront of him, repeating this loud process until he would leap from a tree not more than 50 paces infront of the man. Taking no effort to conceal himself Xavier heaved the dagger in his hand at the man, the blade glistening from tip to hilt as it left his hand. Xavier would land 40 paces away from the man as the blade flew towards his target allowing his attack to introduce him. Should the blade hit the man it would simply break on impact, folding into a blood stain in an instant. The same would happen if it should miss and hit dirt.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz wasn't exactly the most cautious of warriors. Being able to return from the dead can have that effect on you. The blood knife splatted against Auz's chestplate. Auz blinked in surprise, and swept a finger over the blood. He'd give it a sniff. Then a little taste. With a retch he leaned over and spat it out, panting. After a few moments of struggling not to throw up, Auz finally gave his attention to the newcomer. He stood up, tapping his sword against a plated boot. "You threw blood on me. Actual blood. I hope to God you don't have diabetes or something. Do you at all realise how disgusting that is? I mean, who throws blood at people? Seriously?"</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor Confusion danced across Xaviers face as he could feel the weak impact of his blade. Such a reaction was unexpected, he had hoped for something just a tad more violent. Things were going to have to be much more hands on this time around. With a quiet chuckle Xavier shakes his head and makes eye contact with Auz. Hiding his right hand behind his back as it began to throb and fill with his blood once again. This time however Xavier allowed it to gather, trying to collect more of his metal for a bigger weapon. "You will need a stronger stomach than that tonight my friend" Xavier spoke, his attention never weigning. "Before the day is out, you will see much more blood than that."</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne "Going to be having your period?" Auz swung his sword back and forth a few times, warming up. He already had his helm on his head and the buckler strapped to his forearm. He then frowned, eyes flicking down to his breastplate; there was a dented in puncture mark where the dagger had struck. Odd. He'd never seen blood do that before. "Besides, I hardly think the day will be out before we're done. You will be, though." Auz dipped his sword low, point six inches from the ground, gripping the hilt in both hands almost like how one holds a golf club. His left arm was bent at the elbow though, instead of straightened out. He widened his stance, left foot forwards, and having readied himself, rolled his neck to an accompaniment of cracking joints.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor Xaviers brow furrowed once again and he opened his mouth for a rebuttle, but closed it soon after. Only to open it again, the glare on his brow lessening as he fought the onset of a smirk before closing his mouth again. "Fuck off." he shot in reply, no longer hiding his smirk. Perhaps there was more to this man than a first look could see. Experience had taught him to separate arrogance and confidence and while this man oozed both of them. The man still held himself with surety. Even while knowing exactly who he was up against. Maybe the battle could even turn out...fun after all. Taking in a deep breath Xavier tensed the muscles in his legs, lightly angling his upper body towards the man. Behind his back his right hand still collected blood, amassing over two handfuls in a jiggling mound in his palm. In an instant Xavier was mobile, using his left leg to throw him forward and causing him to accerlerate at an incredible rate towards Auz. Covering 43 of the remaining 50 paces in 4 bounds and 4 seconds. In the moment he first moved, so did the blood he held in his hand. Restructuring itself into the shape of a long rod, as there was not yet enough blood to create anything larger. The rod was 4 foot long and 1 inch thick when it took a solid metallic form, glistening with a dark red hue. Being held dead center at the 2ft mark so that only that exact amount would have to be hidden behind his back. On the 4th bound he would land on his left foot, shifting his legs quickly so that his right was infront but not yet on the ground. With a quick thrust of his left leg Xavier slid himself along the ground the instant his right foot made contact, taking a wide stance himself while sliding an extra foot towards Auz. Putting him at a perfect striking distance with his 2ft reach. As he slid Xavier would rotate his right wrist and arm to bring the rod into view, slamming it forward without any pull back. The metal shifting position of its own accord so that Xavier held thr very base of the rod instead of the center. Xavier Utlized the torque of his wrist to align the rod and add more power as he swung. Never once stopping his blood from feeding into the rod. The target would be the mans left hand side and a direct hit would surely crush at least the armor there. As even such a weakly initiated blow at Xaviers hand could surpass that of a master human striker. Started at 50 paces.(feet) Closed 43 of them in 4 large steps. (7 remaining.) 1 extra foot to 44 in slide.(6 remaining) 4 foot rod and two foot reach make for a possible contact.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz bent his knees at the ready, only to gasp when his opponent shot forwards with more speed than he had seen anyone move with before. Auz had only a few seconds to contemplate a course of action. In those scant moments, he pieced together a few things. The faster something moves, the harder it is for it to slow down. His opponent was bipedal and not as well armored, at least at first glance. Auz waited until Xavier was one bound away from attacking before he put those factors to use. He threw himself down into a tuck and roll to barrel into the rushing enemy's legs mid-stride (so that his upper back would impact Xavier's knees), releasing his left handed grip on his sword in order to raise his buckler up to guard against any attacks that might be aimed at his head and crossing his right arm over his midsection to keep his sword more or less out of the way. Auz's chin would be ducked behind the crook of his left shoulder, effectively insulating him from being knocked out by a miraculously timed knee or kick, by way of making it harder for his brain to be rocked. Not likely, but one doesn't get very far without being prepared. Auz was daring, not stupid. The crazy counter Auz had launched might damage Xavier's legs and, probably moreso, send him tumbling head over heels like a runaway pinwheel if it worked well.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne DoctorA short gasp slipped from Xaviers lips as his opponent lurched forward, attempting to slam his feet down in an emergency brake. The instant his foot hit so did Auz, the impact stopping the majority of Xaviers forward momentum. The remainder went to his upper body, sending him reeling over Auz in an instant. In this moment it was all he could do to reach down with his left hand and put it near Auz, calling to the blood there. What had not dried yet bubbled at the surface for an instant before lifting from the cuirass and onto his skin. The extra blood was only a half handful, but it was enough to allow a 2 foot growth of his rod (oh yeah) as it transferred into his body. Now almost completely upside down Xavier thrust his hand and rod down towards the ground. The tip flattened just before impact, widening to the shape of a teacup saucer so that when it slammed on the ground it would resist penetration and propel him into the air. With a swift curl of the legs and a shift of his body weight Xavier flipped to reorient himself, landing 6 paces from the man. The tip of the now 6 foot rod thinning out so that he could slam it two feet into the ground as he dropped to a knee on impact. "Quick Reflexes." the smirk was now a tiny psychotic smile. The hit left his legs a little sore, but his superior muscular density prevented serious injury. While taking a very long and deep breath Xavier visibly tensed his right hand. For a moment his hand swelled before 'popping' and allowing blood to ooze from every pore onto the rod. This was intended to make the weapon grow, but its change was not visible on the portion out of the ground.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz sprang to his feet at about the same time Xavier did. He eyed the bloody hand, the crimson rod, then darted a look at his breastplate. Gears turned, pieces fell into place. And, matching Xavier's smirk with a sardonic grin of his own, Aux neatly took a sharp step to his right, angling his left flank towards Xavier in order to preemptively evade what he guessed would be a piston of deadly blood shooting up from the spot he had just been standing in. Or perhaps there was no secret attack. Auz might have just miscalculated his opponent's abilities. It never hurt to be paranoid though. If Xavier couldn't burrow through the ground with his blood, then it'd just look like Auz had assumed a curt side stance, left hand grabbing the midblade of his sword which was held up over his head. The point was levelled in Xavier's direction. (The chap on the left's stance.)</s>	<\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne A guttural growl rumbled from within Xaviers chest as his muscles began to flex. The earth at his feet began to audibly and visibly crack before Xavier managed to get the rod the twist, a nearly perfect circle of stone twisting in the earth with it. With a grunt Xavier heaved the rod from the ground, revealing a 2 foot club of stone attached to the end. Xavier had used the last surge of blood to create a rough metal webbing throughout the stone. Allowing its form to stay firm as he heaved it back over his shoulder. Though the weight of the rod was increased drastically, Xavier still swung it as though it were a piece if rebar. Rather than stepping into the swing, Xavier reeled back one step and withdrew the metallic webbing from the stone back into the rod. Commanding a minor change in the rods circumference within the stone so it would slip away with ease. The stone flew from the rod with haste, flying horizontally at the man from 6 feet away. Watching the stone fly, the rod shifted its form once again. Melting into itself now. It created a finely detailed hilt before expaning to create the beginning of a blade. What it began to create was 10 inches wide and 2 inches thick. However its creation halted after 2 feet without the blades tip being created. It only took an instant to attempt the creation. At its failing Xavier cursed, the form molding back as his hand began to throb once again. I see it as around 6-7 seconds from growl to throw.</s>
<\|description\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Physically Appearing Age: 25 Actual Age: 100+ (Recently Reawakened) Race: Bloodbayne (Dread Energy Tainted Humanoid) Abilities --- [Level 3] By spending many years fighting wars, creatures and even others with powers like himself, Xavier has gained a vast knowledge of battle in various styles and with different weapons. It has allowed him to become an expert with all melee weapons and primitive ranged weapons. As well giving him great natural reaction speeds, which increase as he gets warmed up in battle. [Level 5] Speed and strength - The Dread Energy has set about a very drastic physical change within Xaviers body granting him a physical prowess well beyond what one would expect from a man of such small stature. The most powerful of his hits has been given the name 'Moon Crusher' however his body requires a sort of build up to such force. At any given moment however he could swing his fists to deliver a whopping 3000lbs of straight impact force. This type of swing is made all the more destructive with the additional weight and rigidity of Xaviers Dread Metal infused skeletal structure. The same essential thing could be said about his speed, the energy within his body has molded his muscles beautifully and while his motion is not a blur his acceleration is a sight to behold. There are more powers to show for Xavier. However this fight is calling only on a Level 5 variation.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne With a snarl Auz sprang off his rear right leg and totally leapt forwards to tackle Xavier about the midsection as the great sword passed diagonally between them, intending to spear his opponent into the ground with an impromptu rugby tackle. With Xavier only having one leg to stand on, the other in the process of booting his sword, he'd be unable to efficiently close or widen the distance to guard against the takedown. Auz could very well be too far inside of the greatsword's range for it to cause significant damage by the time it got kicked. Xavier's right arm, crossed over his body, might even wind up being pinned under Auz's weight in an awkward position. If Xavier hung onto Auz's longsword, it might get pinned between them too, the short end of the stick undoubtedly going to the one without armor who was holding said sword by its blade.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne As Auz rushed forward Xavier allowed his left hand to slip free of the blade. A small slice present in the center of his palm, the tip of his middle finger shaved away and a slice present on the ring and index finger. The blood that ran from them danced along Xaviers left hand, adding a small extra amount to what already spread across his chest. On his face, a nasty and wicked smirk. "Give us a hug!" Xavier called out as 2 dozen, 4 inch long and 1/2 in thick red hued metallic spikes suddenly tore through the black cotton of Xaviers shirt. From here Xavier welcomed the tackle, and should it hit he would try his best to twist in the air, hopefully landing atop of Auz and sinking the spikes in faster. The metal had been intended for use as an emergency armor system. But a new use was found for it.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz had the lower center of gravity and the use of both arms, and so at best they'd land on their sides with the red spikes denting in Auz's breastplate. Which sides? Well, seeing as Xavier's right arm was likely bound across him and that his left leg was off the ground, his left flank would be his weak side, and as such the side that he'd probably land on. Auz of course would crash onto his right, though he'd release his sword at the last moment in order to keep his arm from getting pinned beneath him when he landed. To make sure his opponent stayed in place, Auz tried to throw his left leg over Xavier's legs to spoon him and keep him from maneuvering about as easily. One of the spikes succeeded in entering through the small armor gap that Xavier's blood knife had made, gouging skin but not piercing the sternum. Perhaps when Xavier remembered his first attack, he'd have the presence of mind to try and make the blood spike elongate to cause more damage. Problem is, it's difficult to think straight when your opponent is maniacally stabbing and slashing at you with a foot of thin, razor sharp steel. Auz flew into an absolute frenzy, attempting to wrap his right arm around the back of Xavier's neck to hold him in place whilst the parrying dagger flew in and out with repeated jerking motions. If Auz had his way, he'd initially start stabbing it at Xavier's right flank, aiming to rupture the liver before jamming it up between ribs to pierce a lung. He never stabbed the same place more than once, knowing by now that his opponent's blood could probably be used as a defensive mechanism as well as offensive. Auz would work his way up towards Xavier's neck just like Santa Claus, only stabbing all the way instead of laughing. Should Xavier be able to squeeze a free arm up between their bodies (Auz was staying as close as he could despite the spikes to give Xavier as little room to maneuver as possible), then by the time he succeeded he'd have already been shanked a half dozen times. That wasn't the worst part though. The worst part was how Auz was screaming out a veritable fusillade of cheesy stab-based puns throughout the entire ordeal. "Yaaauuughh!! I'll take a 'stab' at this, if you Grunt get the 'point'! It was 'knife' to meet you, but I'm sick of your 'cutting' remarks! I don't Hah! like 'dirking' people around, especially Ugh! when they are Grunt a 'cut' above the rest! But, any way you Nngg! 'slice' it, I do appreciate your 'sharp' wit! 'Shanks' for your Hurgh! time!"</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Had the world been in favor of Xavier, the contact the spike made would have been enough for a follow up. However as Auz righted himself the spike went along with him, shimmering briefly before losing its rigidity. Thick dark red blood oozing down his breast plate. Those which remained sank back within Xaviers shirt and focused to the center of his chest. It could be felt that Auz managed to right himself before Xavier. So the remaining spikes retracted back onto Xaviers chest beneath his shirt. Forming into a circular mound. As Auz slipped his arm around Xavier to lock him in place, Xavier reached with his left hand to his own blade. The blade seemingly melted, leaving 3/4 in the left hand and 1/4 in the right, allowing Xavier to free his arm before it was pinned. The first of the stabs sunk home, embedding itself 2 inches before the blood solidified in defense. Slipping his arms around Auz, Xavier reassembled the sword and began to pull tightly in an effort to further pin Auz against him as the next stab sunk home. The blade tip would be coated in blood now and as it made contact Xavier was able to halt its entry after 1 inch. At the same moment the circular mound of metal on his chest sprang into life, creating only a single pike this time. The tip was pin point perfect and the shaft was 6 inches thick and a foot and a half long. The goal would be to force the pike through Auzs body at the sternum, utilizing the weakness already presented there.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz hadn't expected a stab-proof body, and was rewarded with a pike through the chest, his armor creaking and grinding as it tore. With a bloody wheeze Auz aimed one more stab, a drunken, clumsy one, at his opponent's Adam's apple whilst Xavier's arms were preoccupied holding their prey. Furthermore Auz would keep his opponent's head more or less in place by seizing their hair from behind with his right hand. Perhaps Xavier's blood could form barriers, but where there was less blood there was less defense. The Adam's apple had but a layer of skin protecting it, and even a small puncture of a quarter inch could be dangerous. At any rate Auz went limp afterwards, this time dead by Xavier's own hands and not his own.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne The only thing left to defend with was his head. Xavier tucked his chin towards his chest, blocking this throat and pushing the tip down. It dug into the skin of his chest, slicing lightly the skin of his sternum before falling away as Auz went lip. With a quick, wet schlop the spike retracted back onto Xaviers chest while Auz would fall limply aside. Shoved by Xavier so he could stand. The end result had been the same, though this time around the man moved faster than before. Was he holding back the first time then? Xavier thought to himself. Or maybe... his thoughts trailed off as he watched Auzs body. The blood from his new wounds oozing towards his left hand.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Just like the first time, Auz's body evaporated into red streamers and reassimilated several yards away. Auz was good as new if not better, sword held loosely in his right hand, dagger in the left. This time though, he wasn't wearing an arrogant smirk. "So you have no problem getting up after a knife fight on the ground with an immortal. I won't lie, when I died that time it hurt like hell. I believe I interrupted you last time. Tell me once more, who and what are you?"</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Xavier couldn't help but smirk now as he watched Auz reappear. Though his shirt was now covered in holes and his body in random wounds, he stood strong and confident. "Mine is a body built for battle. The entirety of my body is a weapon." At his left hand another, much smaller blade appeared. The blade was a foot and a half long and held a steep curve in the middle. The width of the blade started at 2 inches but widened near the tip before going back to a point. It held no handguard and was a shimmering red hue. "I, am Xavier Bloodbayne. And what I am - is your demise." Xavier would advance on Auz now, taking care to get only close enough to make an extending thrust. Using the massive blade in his right. Doing his best to test his theory without exposing too much of himself.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz merrily surged forwards with his sword raised, swinging out his buckler to direct the greatsword stab off to his left. He had become even faster. Were he able to redirect the stab and dart inside of its reach, then he'd diagonally swing his longsword down in an attempt lop off Xavier's left arm at the elbow. Additionally, Auz wasn't going to fall for his own trick. He'd be keeping his sword arm tucked close to his body so that it couldn't be stabbed before the blow struck, adding strength to his weapon by twisting his entire body into it. With the increased speed came increased force. Speed is mass, after all, and by now Auz was moving significantly faster than any human. "PLEASED TO MEET YOU!"</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne As the buckler made impact with Xaviers sword, the outer makeup rippled as it underwent a change. The metal converges at the base of the sword while maintaing its form. Changing the blades center of gravity and putting the weight closer to Xaviers hand. This allowed him to regain control of the blades much faster than normal. Xaviers left elbow cocked briefly as he rose his left hand and torqued his left wrist. The scimitar rose quickly and struck against longswords own flat edge midstrike in an effort to deflect it passed his left shoulder. Xaviers right arm tensed visibly as it regained power of the deflection after just a foot, sending it flying back at Auzs waist. As the forward momentum was generated Xavier shifted the blades makeup once more. The metal within shifted to the tip of the blade in perfect timing with Xaviers swing. The weight distribution allowed for a drastic increase in the blades momentum throughout the swing. The impact could surely be enough to uproot Auz from where he stood should a block be possible at the current range.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz didn't just stop in swinging range. He kept moving forwards to keep Xavier from being able to back away fast enough, if back away he did, in order to get inside Xavier's guard. Auz drew his longsword pommel up before his chest after his slash was deflected, ready to parry any split second attacks. At the same time he shifted his dagger into a reverse grip as he moved his buckler into the way of the swinging greatsword's crossguard. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Xavier hadn't rooted his feet to the ground with blood claws or something (he probably could), so the immense force of his blow against Auz would have almost as much effect on him, perhaps budging him a bit in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, as Auz tumbled to his right he'd let the force of the sword hitting his buckler lend power to the horizontal slash of his dagger, intending to draw it across Xavier's belly with blurring speed to spill some guts. He'd be ready to extend his arm further out in case his foe tried backing up or twisting away.</s>	<\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne The impact was more than Xavier had anticipated, shifting his footing to compensate. Sliding his right foot considerably more than his left so he would stop in a wide stance. His blade rippling back and forth in an attempt to help him stabilize. The metallic form of the blade changed once again, though this time it was the entire mass that was affected. It would ooz to the hilt before spreading slowly across Xaviers right forearm, making the weapon lighter by the time Auzs slash would end. That well timed, last moment slash of the man was a little unexpected. The blood upon Xaviers chest began to shift the moment he eyed the dagger coming for his gut. The dagger had created no more than an inch long and half inch thick slice on his chest before the blood had reached it. In the blades path the blood solidified to metal, forcing the blades edge out of Xaviers skin as it made contact. The blood which pooled from the wounds upon his back shifted also, moving down to Xaviers right leg, working slowly to coat it. As the man tumbled to his side Xavier took action, ensuring that he would reach Auz before he was able to right himself. There wasn't a great distance for him to cross and with a quick, hard shove of his right foot he was mobile in an instant. The tips of swords shifting momentarily inwards so as to lower their wind resistance but still allow them to be kept at hand. Neither of his feet left the ground more than an inch as he moved, practically gliding for the few feet he would need. Planting his left foot quickly before surging his right foot forward. Aiming a kick that would land dead center of Auzs chest. The entire action itself was near immeasurable, but favored its speed in lew of attack intensity. The force could still be seen as triple that of a normal man, more than enough to damage the chestplate should an attack land.</s>
<\|description\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Physically Appearing Age: 25 Actual Age: 100+ (Recently Reawakened) Race: Bloodbayne (Dread Energy Tainted Humanoid) Abilities --- [Level 3] By spending many years fighting wars, creatures and even others with powers like himself, Xavier has gained a vast knowledge of battle in various styles and with different weapons. It has allowed him to become an expert with all melee weapons and primitive ranged weapons. As well giving him great natural reaction speeds, which increase as he gets warmed up in battle. [Level 5] Speed and strength - The Dread Energy has set about a very drastic physical change within Xaviers body granting him a physical prowess well beyond what one would expect from a man of such small stature. The most powerful of his hits has been given the name 'Moon Crusher' however his body requires a sort of build up to such force. At any given moment however he could swing his fists to deliver a whopping 3000lbs of straight impact force. This type of swing is made all the more destructive with the additional weight and rigidity of Xaviers Dread Metal infused skeletal structure. The same essential thing could be said about his speed, the energy within his body has molded his muscles beautifully and while his motion is not a blur his acceleration is a sight to behold. There are more powers to show for Xavier. However this fight is calling only on a Level 5 variation.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Watching Auz kill himself brought a small smirk to Xaviers face. There would be a few deaths still to come before Auz would find himself on par with Xavier. However, the fact that it was closing as fast it was sent a chill up Xaviers spine. As Auz returned to life, the blade in Xaviers hand began to ripple and sieze as its form shrank. In its place stood a sword almost equal in length but significintally thinner. A small portion of the excess metal which was gained from this made an appearance on Xaviers left wrist. A mound of glistening red metal connecting itself to the collection of metallic rods on his forearm. This piece was left more pliable than the others, allowing Xavier to spin his wrist while maintaining contact of the two. As Xavier dropped his left hand back to his side the mound came to life. One of the rods on Xaviers forearm into his skin with a blur before lurching from the mound on his wrist even faster. At first glance the rod would be targeted at Auzs face, though as it would reach within 1 foot the rod would suddenly shift tracjectory. The angle change was quick and drastic, the rod sinking itself into the dirt at Auzs feet before losing form. Creating a thick red puddle 6 inches across on the dirt. 6 more exactly like it had been fired as Xavier dropped his arm, all of these sinking themselves into the dirt in a path from Auz to Xavier. As the rods lost their form they would create 6 puddles over the roughly 10 feet between the two men. The puddles were dispersed upon the path, leaving plenty of open ground to walk on for the moment. Xavier began to slowly march towards Auz as well, taking the same careful half steps as before so as to remain within his stance.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz bobbed and weaved unpredictably as each rod flew at him, just to be safe. None followed through though, instead splatting down on the ground. So Xavier could control his blood independent of his body. Suspecting that the blood on the ground might shoot out or act as some kind of trap, Auz reversed his steps and began backing away to force the encroaching Xavier to leave his trap behind, if he wanted to get closer that was. "What kind of ploy is that!? You think I'll step on your blood or take my attention away from it, eh? Huh? Oi? Yeah?"</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne As Auz changed his pace and direction Xavier began to take larger strides of his own. Before too long he was ontop of the closest puddle he had created and upon contact with his boot it wriggled to life. Xaviers boot seemed to act like a sponge as the blood disappeared around it, the vast majority it being recollected. The exact same would happen with 4 of the remaining 6 puddles as Xavier approached before he switched up again. Xaviers strides would still have been rather slow and calculated up to the 5th puddle. Xavier landed within that puddle on only the ball of his right foot with his left arm stretched out to his side. His right arm draped across his waist while holding onto his sword. In an instant the puddle sprang to life, creating a perfect launch mound beneath Xaviers heel. The ground surrounding this puddle fractured for a moment as Xavier exerted great force against it, launching 3 rods from his left arm in the exact moment he began to accelerate. Giving the rods a speed boost before launching them so that they may make contact ahead of him. The rods initial trajectory would make it seem as though they would fly off into the forest. Though a sudden drastic turn would bring them back around towards Auz, or more precisely behind him. The plan would be to have them land in a way that would coat the ground surrounding Auzs flank upon impact. Meanwhile Xavier tore through the air towards Auz, the tips of his toes barely skimming the ground to push him faster. Xavier would plant his left foot first, a good 8 feet out from Auz still so his momentum would allow him to slide the remaining distance. This would kill the majority of his speed but allow for his stance to be regainined faster. When Xavier neared proper striking distance the blood within his blood came to action, sending a single rod through the heel of his boot into the ground. Xavier anchored himself just a moment before enacting a wide, diagonal strike that would be intended to hit from Auzs right hip to left shoulder. This allowed him to focus the majority of his forward momentum into his swing, allowing for a much faster and more force filled strike.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz stopped short, lunging suddenly forwards and to the side of where Xavier's lead foot landed at the eight foot mark. The reverse longsword scythed in low, a split second arc of light beaming from left to right, to strike the back of Xavier's forward leg and potentially take it off at the knee. This would be right as Xavier's weight settled down on the foot, which he'd have also conveniently pinned in place with the blood rod. The attack came before Xavier's own swing, perhaps even beating him to the mark. As for the flying rods, Auz figured that darting away from the spot they landed at would serve its purpose as well as it had the first time, two birds with one stone. Not having any methods of slowing his momentum, Auz would roll several yards away and to his feet should he finish his attack.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne The rod which anchored Xaviers foot to the ground had yet to be created when Auz moved. The creation of this rod had been timed alongside of Xaviers swing, which he had been unable to reach. Xavier had never taken his eyes off of Auz as he was sliding along the dirt. So as Auz darted in low and quick Xavier thrust against the ground with both legs, floating just above Auzs blade. In a last ditch effort Xavier would twist his body, aiming a flying right knee towards Auzs face as his attack missed. The impact would be less than Xaviers full power since it was enacted midair, it was still double that of a normal man. Bone shattering in the least. Hit or miss Xavier would torque his body afterwards so that he would do a 180 degree flip in the air. Landing so that he would be facing Auz. During this flip 6 of his rods were flung from his wrist, careening high into the air before angling back on the earth. They would land in a wide partial circle behind Auz, creating a collection of puddles there like the three infront of Xavier.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz hadn't any intent of being within easy striking range when he attacked, using the reach of his arms and blade carefully. Regardless, he found it necessary to take action when a counter attack came his way. In slow motion Xavier jumped over the sword, Auz tiltef his head away from the knee, both blows passing within millimeters of their targets. To the human eye, the exchange would've been a blur. Auz allowed the torque of his missed swing to spin him around, greaves digging trenches in the ground as he skidded to a stop facing Xavier. More of those pesky blood traps landed in front of him. Auz immediately broke into a sprint towards his right, intending to give the blood a wide birth and flank Xavier.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Xavier landed delicatlely on the ground, his knees bending to cushion the fall and assume position. His left hand was resting flat on the ground, the rods on that arm vibrating in anticipation as Auz began his sprint. Xaviers right hand holding his sword across shoulder. For a moment Xavier seemed to do nothing as he watched Auz. Xaviers eyes darting to and fro from Auzs legs to the ground as he calculated. Xaviers legs tensed as his the toes of his boots and the fingers on his left hand dug into the earth on Auzs 3rd step. Legs, toes, arm, fingers and rods released their tension as the step landed. In a plume of dust Xavier was mobile, making use of his unbelievable acceleration capabilities. Surely Auz would be able to keep track of Xaviers movements, however Xavier would be moving much faster than he had so far. In this same instant the rods on Xaviers arm had come to life, sending 4 through the air. They would be flying directly infront of Xavier and would land just the same, infront of him. On launch Xavier had began to right himself, maintaining a forward leaning angle without being so low to the ground. This allowed him to step with his right foot at the same moment the first rod would land. The rod would turn to a puddle beneath Xaviers foot as the remaining 3 rods hit the dirt. Xavier stopped dead in his tracks much like before, though this time the blood cradled his foot rather than anchoring it. Xavier willed the puddle to extend in an instant, shifting from 6 inches all around to 4 inches wide and 8 inches long. The following 3 rods which impact shortly after underwent the exact same change as they made impact. Creating a 2 and a half foot puddle that strecthed across the dirt towards Auz. The goal was to either cause Auz to step on the puddle which had been put directly into his path midstep or to distract him with it. If the first plan was a success and Auz stepped on the puddle then Xavier would shift the metal. Creating a pike that would tear through the air towards Auzs groin. More specifically the taint, taking advantage of the lack of armor plating their in hopes to run him through from anus to brain. Meanwhile Xavier swung his sword in a diagonal fashion towards Auzs neck. Another multiuse tactic meant to take use of the distraction the blood would create or to create a distraction for the blood to make contact.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz slowed down a little bit an instant before having to encounter the blood puddle, so that Xavier would reach him first. When Xavier swung, so then did Auz twist and bring his inverted sword sweeping down with frightening speed. His intent was to hack the thick of the blade into Xavier's forearm to sever muscle and tendon, effectively rendering the arm useless should the blow land. Just like when Auz stabbed his opponent's arm before, Xavier had the momentum of his own attack working against him. Of course Xavier could try to tank or deflect the heavy blow with his club arm, but he'd find that even with an armored hide, the raw cutting power of Auz's two-handed mordhau swing was incomparable to his earlier attacks. Either way it'd hurt like a bitch. An instant later Auz would attempt to leap high over the blood. The spike could shoot up still and probably catch Auz, but it'd likely be less damaging as he'd be quite a good jumper with as much speed as he had. Less damaging in this case would be a very, very subjective term, though. For most men with a bloody stalactite up their gooch, life was over. For Auz, it'd mean flipping head over heels like a ragdoll having its period, spraying blood this way and that from his ass which'd be penetrated up to the point of his lower intestine.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Xavier had guessed that Auz would attempt a counter and Xavier never let his gaze falter as he watched for it. When Auz swung his sword in Xaviers left arm moved in a blur, positioning itself between the blade and its target. Rather than take the damage of the blades edge, Xavier had positioned his arm in line with Auzs hilt. The metallic rods and the coating which held them there took a significant amount of the impact. Reverting momentarily to a liquid state to allow the blades hilt to bury itself with its impact. Xaviers forced his right arm against his left at the same time. The blow had pushed the two together and he used this to stabilize his arm. The metal would than attempt to leap back across the hilt in an instant. Solidifying just as quick with the hopes of trapping the blade in place. Xavier hoped that it would either force Auz to remain where he was for even a second longer to allow a full skewer or force him to momentarily part with his blade.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne As Xavier had experienced firsthand, Auz large and by far preferred grappling over striking. Whenever a good chance to get close presented itself, Auz didn't even bother with second thoughts. Instead of letting go of his sword or being forced to endure a little hang time over the blood, Auz held on and jerked himself in towards Xavier. Unless Xavier grounded his feet, he'd be jerked forwards into Auz (both tumbling to a heap on the ground), with the rearrangement of Auz's body resulting in the blood spike instead penetrating the immortal's right leg through the thigh. Painful, debilitating, and probably something that'd make Auz bleed out in a minute. Still... Unless Xavier were able to get away fast enough, he'd probably be reintroduced to Auz's ridiculously lethal daggers, this time with far more speed and power behind each furious thrust than before.</s>	<\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Unfortunately for Auz, Xaviers footing had been secured a few moments before. Upon his prior movements Xaviers right foot had been cradled by the puddle both men stood on. Ontop of this his left foot would be back on the ground by this point. So when Auz pulled the sword towards himself Xavier stood firm. The tugs power swayed Xaviers upper body only slightly before he returned the power. Utilizing his superior footing to allow him to pull back on the sword. Xavier was not trying to pull Auz into him. Rather he would be hopefully preventing Auz from gaining or losing an inch of footing by. Leaving him almost no remaining time to dodge the impending spike which would still be careening for his taint.</s>
<\|description\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Physically Appearing Age: 25 Actual Age: 100+ (Recently Reawakened) Race: Bloodbayne (Dread Energy Tainted Humanoid) Abilities --- [Level 3] By spending many years fighting wars, creatures and even others with powers like himself, Xavier has gained a vast knowledge of battle in various styles and with different weapons. It has allowed him to become an expert with all melee weapons and primitive ranged weapons. As well giving him great natural reaction speeds, which increase as he gets warmed up in battle. [Level 5] Speed and strength - The Dread Energy has set about a very drastic physical change within Xaviers body granting him a physical prowess well beyond what one would expect from a man of such small stature. The most powerful of his hits has been given the name 'Moon Crusher' however his body requires a sort of build up to such force. At any given moment however he could swing his fists to deliver a whopping 3000lbs of straight impact force. This type of swing is made all the more destructive with the additional weight and rigidity of Xaviers Dread Metal infused skeletal structure. The same essential thing could be said about his speed, the energy within his body has molded his muscles beautifully and while his motion is not a blur his acceleration is a sight to behold. There are more powers to show for Xavier. However this fight is calling only on a Level 5 variation.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Unfortunately for Auz, Xaviers footing had been secured a few moments before. Upon his prior movements Xaviers right foot had been cradled by the puddle both men stood on. Ontop of this his left foot would be back on the ground by this point. So when Auz pulled the sword towards himself Xavier stood firm. The tugs power swayed Xaviers upper body only slightly before he returned the power. Utilizing his superior footing to allow him to pull back on the sword. Xavier was not trying to pull Auz into him. Rather he would be hopefully preventing Auz from gaining or losing an inch of footing by. Leaving him almost no remaining time to dodge the impending spike which would still be careening for his taint.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Perhaps had Xavier pushed the sword out rather than pulled, Auz might have been killed. The opposite would only hasten Auz's escape. Auz wasn't trying to gain footing, he only desired to get close to Xavier. What Xavier had done was give Auz a way to kill his inertia to keep from entirely jumping over the blood to begin with. It was like a tether restraining Auz from going further out, and whereupon his thigh might have been skewered, now only a knee would be in trouble. Xavier had thought that Auz wanted to drag him along for the ride. Auz actually had intended to use Xavier's own intent against him to slow down. He hadn't taken that last jump yet, after all. Auz's body would be horizontal if all went according to plan, legs splayed out behind him, blood spike holding one in place. He'd take his left hand off the sword, grabbing for a dagger...</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Xavier knew what he was doing the entire time. Auzs plan had simply fallen short as Xavier added tension to the blade. The force of the pull had been precise, a near perfect match to the force Auz had created. It matched Auzs to perfection for only an instant, slowing the pull drastically before Xavier released the tension slightly. Xavier had been very careful not to add anything extra to his pull. This would have simply caused Auz to stop, as the momentum of his tug was slowly cancelled out by Xaviers. It was an intentonally slow and gentle action executed with the express purpose of extinguishing the momentum and removing the inertia the two could have created. As stated Xavier pulled with the express intention of preventing Auz from gaining or losing an inch. The spike coming from the blood had not been created as fast as originally intended. Xavier had been waiting until Auzs foot was on the blood puddle as well. Auz had slowed himself so that the previous actions could be taken. This meant Xaviers blood spike was not created until after Auzs attack, when Auz would try to leap over the puddle. This meant that the spike had not yet decided a target until after Auz had gotten his weapon stuck on Xaviers arm. Around this moment would be when the spike attacked, just a moment befor Auz pulled on his weapon. Combined it would bring about a different situation: One in which Auzs blade and Xaviers arm created no excess inertia as the plan had been. Ontop of this the spike was not as off target as Auz was hoping. It had been created after Auz attacked Xavier. This would mean that Auzs taint would still be the intended target. Afterall, Auz had elected to NOT jump over the blood spike. Putting him still in a perfect position of anal death.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne The problem was, Xavier's footing was solid due to his blood rods, which kept him from being jerked to the ground. Auz had no such thing. It was a one sided tug-of-war in Xavier's favor unless he let himself fall. He could match Auz's tug, but in the end the additional support that kept him standing ruined the shaky physics of trying to keep someone in place by pulling them towards you, which is more practical if they want to go backwards. Xavier absolutely matched the force of Auz's pull. Shame Auz didn't have feet that could stick to the ground, thus ruining the plan. At any rate, one had to wonder why Xavier didn't just make the blood spike jut up at an angle to hit Auz in the biscuit anyways. In the heat of battle, it's easy to make slight judgemental errors in the fraction of a second between attacks. Especially when you don't catch wind of an opponent's plan until they've already started hauling their body right at you. Still, one had to wonder why Xavier didn't just fire his blood spike at an angle. Oh shit, could that happen!? Why'd I say that!? No wait, NOOO!</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz died! When he returned, he frowned and looked around, obviously unsettled. He'd been powered up far past this point before, but never at the hands of a single enemy. He eyed Xavier as he thought about what had attributed to his latest death. His opponent could somehow root himself to the ground and create blood traps. Clearly it had been a mistake to try and rely on outrunning the bastard. A straightforward clash was also dangerous due to his opponent's superior strength, durability, and unpredictable bodily weapons, but... Maybe if he... No, screw that. Auz snorted. There were no maybes in a true fight to the death. One who commits to an unyielding strategy is certain to meet a quick end. Gotta be like water. Or piss. Something. Instead of using the mordhau stance, Auz reverted back to his previous setup, dagger in his left hand and sword held properly in the right. He'd begin walking steady towards Xavier, raising his long blade up as if in preparation for a downwards strike, left elbow chambered at his side, perhaps to aid in thrusting with the gauche. He was compact now, and radiating aggression. He was also a solid 25% faster than he had just been.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne A sickly squish and a crunch filled the air as Auz as Xaviers spike found its mark. The metal on Xaviers left arm rippled briefly before Auzs blade fell free. While the rods and their thick holder oozed across his body. Allowing Xavier to straighten himself and close the distance between him and Auz. Meanwhile the blade in his right hand reverted to a liquid metal and oozed back onto his body. Much like the blood puddle began to do. Bloodied teeth showed behind an insane smirk as Xavier stood before Auz. Blood spirting between the gaps of his teeth and his neck as he tried to chuckle. Xavier admired his now ragdoll opponent, reaching up with his right hand to stroke Auzs helmet. The tip of his index finger traced a small dent at the very top of the helmet where a thin spike jutted out. Xaviers lips pursed into a sensual cooing shape. Mocking any pain Auz may have felt from it. Auzs body would fall like a bag of bricks soon after that. The spike which had penetrated Auz vanished suddenly. Retracing into the blood puddle before the last of the puddle itself was absorbed. The blood he absorbed spread itself along his body relatively evenly. Leaving focused pockets at his elbows, knees and head. The blood would continue to flow down his arms until it coated his finger tips. At which point the blood would create a new weapon across both hands. The blood would flow onto his hands until the back of both hands and the spaces between his knuckles were coated with a 1 inch thick piece of metal. On the front portion of his knuckles, the punch impact point, rose several spikes and blades each 2 inches long. Xavier was one who loved to mix things up in a battle. Using the same technique twice made him feel too predictable. Now Auzs body had returned and life along with it. The bloodied smirk upon Xaviers face seemed to be painted on now. The Dread Energy that powers his body could been seen burning behind his pupils. A bright, almost blood red energy that would pulse with each breath. It would not be able to be used, however it was beginning to further fuel Xaviers bloodlust and with it his insanity. With his eyes wide and psychotic smile Xavier began to strutt towards Auz. Each step lightly crossing over to throw his hips around as though he were on a catwalk. Arms resting at his sides. Xavier rolled his head around randomly, though he never allowed his gaze to fall from Auz. The path he took would bring him just within striking range of Auz. Giving the appearance that an opening may be found.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz stuck out his bottom lip, eyebrows creased into confused furrows. "I think you need some psychiatric help there, Chuck. I mean, fighting is fun and all, but you look like you just shot up with some crack and then found yourself a porn magazine. Anyways, I'm rambling now. Let's let our weapons to the talking from here on out." Whilst in a side stance with his right side leading and his shield raised, Auz lowered his sword down until it was aimed at Xavier's midsection, arm half extended. What he did next was simple, easy, and scarcely a trick. A noncommittal thrust, a long range jab. He fully extended his arm out to stab for his opponent's heart. It was fast as shit. Auz's fighting style was different now, more akin to that of traditional fencing. He must have reverted back to the very basics of his training, what he had studied as a child under the tutelage of his first mentors.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Xavier held his momentum until the moment that Auz flex his arm. The last of his strut would end on his right foot as Auz moved to attack. To an untrained eye Xavier would have moved to fast for sight, his image distorting briefly as his position was slightly changed. Xavier had slid forward a half foot, bowed his legs, lowered his chest and raised his arms in the path of the blade. Entering more of the strikezone as well as placing the blades upon his knuckles in the path of Auzs so that it would glide between them. Sparks would fly from the sheer friction of it, should it go according to plan. The hope was that this hold would sink in, at which point Xavier would use his legs and hips to twist his body 3 full rotations. An attempt to rip the blade from Auzs hands and send it flying.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne The sword came loose during the very first rotation! They say a master swordsman never relinquishes his blade. Clearly, few masters have been spun around like rag dolls. When Xavier came back around to get Auz in his sights again, oddly enough, Auz wasn't there. The next thing he'd probably perceive would be the sky whizzing by overhead as his legs were blasted out from underneath him mid-spin by a monstrous flying scissor leg takedown, Auz having hurled himself into the technique the moment Xavier looked away. This time around, Xavier didn't have his feet secured in place either. Were Auz to pull off the move, Xavier would be in a great spot to see that the immortal had drawn his second dagger, now wielding one in each hand and like looking like he was wantin' to kill a niggah.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Little reaction came from Xavier as he felt his bodu being thrown. Fingers gripping at Auzs leg in a futile effort of breaking their hold. As Auz slammed him to the ground Xavier lost his grip, his arms swinging over his head as he fell. The instant his back made contact with the ground Xavier was back to attacking. Bringing both his fists down towards Auzs left leg, which was draped over his waist. It was not a set of slams with his fists but two, knife and spike filled punches. The first two would be set to make impact at the same time. Xaviers left arm aimed for Auzs upper inner thigh while his right aimed for the lower inner thigh. Both punches were set to tear into unarmored skin and either one was capable of severing the femoral artery. Ontop of causing immense muscular damage that could render the entire leg useless. These were simply the first punches. Xavier would follow up with a quick left, right, left, right combo. Aiming to pulverize the limb. At the same moment Xaviers first attack would impact, the metallic puddles placed along his body struck out as well. The puddles on his knees created relatively thin, spike tipped rods that stretched towards Auzs face with incredible speed. Meanwhile the puddle on his left elbow created its own, thicker spiked rod that was aimed for the center of Auzs breastplate.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz ducked down between the elbow spike and the knee spikes, each length of hard blood converging at where his upper body had been, hunching over Xavier's forearms right after his thigh got obliterated in order to counterattack before said arms could be hauled back to defend with. He plunged both daggers down like chained lightning, the left for Xavier's heart, the right for the crook of Xavier's left arm.</s>	<\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Each of Auzs blades would find their mark, although their effect would leave little to be desired. The metal covering Xaviers body solidified of its own accord the instant he was struck. The muscles and blood within the wounds would do the same, an effort to slow the blades and hold them firmly after. The extra speed and power behind Auzs swings helped him to make a 2 in stab on each target. Since his arms were still against Auz, Xavier would force his left fist up Auzs leg. Aiming to tear into the flesh across his groin and inner right thigh. Meanwhile Xaviers knees curled in towards his chest to position the rods on his knees against Auzs back as he leaned over him. Xaviers right fist angled towards Auzs throat. A swift and vicious serated uppercut capable of not only shattering his jaw bone but of also mangling his face with the blades.</s>
<\|description\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Physically Appearing Age: 25 Actual Age: 100+ (Recently Reawakened) Race: Bloodbayne (Dread Energy Tainted Humanoid) Abilities --- [Level 3] By spending many years fighting wars, creatures and even others with powers like himself, Xavier has gained a vast knowledge of battle in various styles and with different weapons. It has allowed him to become an expert with all melee weapons and primitive ranged weapons. As well giving him great natural reaction speeds, which increase as he gets warmed up in battle. [Level 5] Speed and strength - The Dread Energy has set about a very drastic physical change within Xaviers body granting him a physical prowess well beyond what one would expect from a man of such small stature. The most powerful of his hits has been given the name 'Moon Crusher' however his body requires a sort of build up to such force. At any given moment however he could swing his fists to deliver a whopping 3000lbs of straight impact force. This type of swing is made all the more destructive with the additional weight and rigidity of Xaviers Dread Metal infused skeletal structure. The same essential thing could be said about his speed, the energy within his body has molded his muscles beautifully and while his motion is not a blur his acceleration is a sight to behold. There are more powers to show for Xavier. However this fight is calling only on a Level 5 variation.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne I don't expect the beginning to make any changes to your character at all when he comes back. I always assumed even his armor reverts to normal when he comes back. So if he's dead and I fuck his armor up a little it just gets fixed when he comes back. Xavier could feel that the uppercut had hit its mark and drove it home, curling his bicep in the last moment to tear through throat and jaw bone. It was clear that Auz had died once again, though Xaviers attacks still did not stop. His left fist pulled free of Auzs leg before Xavier used his shoulder to shove Auzs upper body free of his own. Allowing him to release a volley of blows against Auzs body until he disappeared. Striking even at the wisps of energy. When there was nothing left to attack Xaviers arms went limp at his side as his head turned towards Auz. Slowly and smoothly Xavier would rise to his feet. The metal which composed the cestus on his hands was liquefying once more. Creating long and thin bulbous forms at the end of his fists. The wound on his chest spouted a small amount of blood which would collect over top of it. Eventually creating a visible metallic dome over where the wound was. From either side of the wound of Xaviers left arm sprouted 4 slender rods of metal which would bind themselves over the wound. Creating what would appear to be a make shift stitching. The bulbous masses had grown to be 4 foot long and as thick as a mans forearm. In unison the forms began to quiver and quake as Xavier rose only his right arm so that it would point at Auz. As his arm moved the form on his right arm began to take shape, slowly creating a short sword. The hilt appeared in an instant, the forming of the blade was slower and the metal shook vigorously side to side in the process. In the end it was thicker and wider than one would expect of an average short sword, even compared to the ones Xavier had created before. The mass on Xaviers left arm was creating the exact same weapon, though it was going just a tad slower. So its respective arm hung limp at his side as the blade shook back and forth. Xavier slowly began to advance on Auz, using a normal, wide strolling stance.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz suddenly plunged a dagger into his left eye socket, going down like a sack of potatoes. When he appeared again, it'd be twenty feet behind Xavier. Looks like he felt the desire to start powering up. He only had one more suicide left though.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne A spray of blood filled the air infront of Xavier as he gave a slightly irritated sigh. As Auzs body vanished Xaviers right arm fell to his side as he spun around on his heels to face Auz. Xavier shrugged both his shoulders in while thrusting his right arm and sword towards where Auz stood. Placing his right fist on his hip in a clearly annoyed position. Right boot tapping the ground. It was hard to convey the point with no voice. Xavier was asking if that was all, if there wasn't any other suicides he wanted to squeeze in.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz nodded, and then pierced his brain one more time, using up his last suicide. He was going to be at full power now. He rematerialized in nearly the same spot as before, stretching his arms out and rolling his neck.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne A quiet chuckling scoff sounded in Xaviers throat, a small stream of blood pouring from his neck. When Auz reappeared Xavier brought his right hand up towards his chest. A metallic clang echoing as the metal of his blade collided with that on his chest. A small portion of blood began being added to the metal on his chest, in efforts to slowly increase its thickness. As the echo died out Xavier dropped his arm to his side and began to march towards Auz.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz remained where he was, sliding his left foot back and bringing his sword up over his head. Auz puckered his lips up and began making fart noises. Truly a frightening tactic.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor A small smirk touched at Xaviers face as Auz did this, the speed of his march increasing slowly. At around 20 feet Xavier would be jogging towards Auz, his right arm and sword swinging in time with his step. At around 8 feet if distance Xavier would come to a sudden stop. With footing as wide as his shoulders Xavier began to march towards Auz again. Though his steps were much slower this time around. Xavier lifted his right arm so the tip of the blade was pointed towards Auz. The same small smirk painted across his lips.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz approached Xavier once he had gotten to within eight feet, hunkering into a half crouch as he moved, shield and dagger lowered. His eyes had become flat and vacant, all distracting thoughts clearing out. Soon Xavier's sword would be in reach.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne With a four foot blade and a 2.5 foot reach, the tip of Xaviers blade was a good six feet infront of him. Leaving only 2 feet between Auz and his blade. There was little to signal what was about to come next, only a faint and brief click from the swords hilt. Starting at the base of the hilt the blades 4 foot length began to extend rapdily. It created 16, 3in connected segments, effectively doubling the length of the blade in a second. The tip screamed through the air towards Auzs chest and would be able to extend an extra 2 feet beyond that.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne It was a good thing Auz had cleared his mind, otherwise he'd have probably been too confused to react immediately. As it was, his senses were fast enough to keep up with his body. He slid his right foot back, twisted his body sideways, and leaned away, all in the same, fluid motion with nearly flawless mechanical skill. Nearly. It had been a fast surprise attack, after all, there was little chance of Auz getting out unscathed. A normal stab would have glanced off of Auz's breastplate as he turned himself to the side, but at these speeds steel was but a paltry defense. A groove was gouged over Auz's right pectoral, biting into flesh and reaching the bone. Instead of shying away from the pain, Auz darted a blurring skip forwards along the outside of Xavier's extended weapon, paying careful attention to spacing to ensure that he could keep his opponent in slashin' range. Were Auz to get close enough, then with his left foot leading and his right crushing a furrow into the ground with the forces exerted, his raised sword would spite the air with its speed, literally whistling as it seared a horizontal arc for the base of the front of Xavier's neck. Auz wasn't hitting like a bantamweight anymore. From this point on, the intensity of his attacks would be of such magnitude that even a monster like Xavier might feel the old reaper looming behind him, a pair of bony hands massaging his shoulders. At any rate, this meant that Auz was reaching his blade over Xavier's own, but due to his superior acceleration, it'd be a nigh improbable feat for the blood-manipulator to bring his long right weapon up in time to guard. Mayhaps he could shorten his sword just as effectively for close combat, but even then the timing would be tighter than a triple granny knot.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor It was not necessary to use the right handed weapon, Xavier had feigned an opening for this very reason. The muscles of his upper left arm suddenly tensed as the first blade cut into Auzs arm. It had been wounded yes, but the metallic stitching across his wound was anything but a stitching. A quiet click sounded from his left arm just as the metallic strands on his arm began to gleam as they were retracted. The blade on his left hand began to expand as it was swung only a foot. In this instant another key feature of the blade was shown. Each blade segment was capable of shifting 160 degrees to either the left pr right. Xaviers swing generated an incredible amount of forward momentum as the segments began to be created. Upon the creation of the first his arm was snapped to a sudden stop, transferring the momentum towards the tip. It created a sort of wave with the sections that would begin small at the hilt. Only for the impact zone to grow as the blade flew. The air itself was torn by the blades force and perfect edges, creating dark red streaks in its wake. The attack zone went from 3 inches, to 2 foot across just before the intended horizontal impact with Auzs lower abdomen. With the speed of Auzs counter he would be hard pressed to make a successful dodge. Meanwhile, behind Auz, the first of the blades had circled back and was headed back to join the fight. It would only arrive a time after the first blade did or did not make contact.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Xavier might have expected his opponet to get close, but his feint was an opening before the superior speed of Auz. After all, the fleet swordsman's counter came immediately after Xavier's initial attack, and so at the very best Xavier could expect to launch his second at the same time as Auz's, whose blow would be faster, and hence might land first. If Xavier wasn't devoting any attention to stopping Auz's swing, then he'd probably wind up without a head. It'd be worth noting that since Auz was aiming for the base of the neck, the chance of Xavier having second thoughts and trying to duck or otherwise Matrix his way out (without having intended to do so until having seen the conclusion of his own counter) would be slim to none. He was trying to beat Auz at his own game. That being said, Xavier's attack probably would land, as Auz was in the midst of his swing. A single trade, a split second fight. The most likely result? Two deaths, Auz sheared by Xavier's whipswords, Xavier missing a significant fraction of his cranium. The ghosts of both warriors might even spit snarky insults as they waft upwards.</s>	<\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor Xaviers attention shifted for an instant to Auzs sword, it seemed a slight miscalculation had been made. Auz had become marginally faster than what had predicted and his sword seemed poised to sink this lesson home. However as quick as Xavier had realized this he also fashioned a rough plan. Visibly, Xavier buckled at the knees, knowing full well he would gain only inches before impact. Within his body blood and muscle began to shape and harden, specifically within his neck and upper right body. Outside the blood which had collected on his throat lurched towards the side of his neck. This blood would not move directly to the impact point, but instead to the outer perimeters of it. Here it would both harden and embed itself within Xaviers skin to connect with the already hardening tissue. The shape it created was similar to a half oval, with the top curve beginning near Xaviers jaw and the end near his collar bone. This would be supported by a series of stiffening muscles and layers of interior metallic blood to better absorb what impact would still be felt. The goal of this would be to "catch" Auzz blade by its cutting edge using the curved metallic barrier. The blade would cut into Xaviers skin a half inch before meeting this defense. Which if all went to plan would have the blade angled through his neck and out again, towards his right shoulder. Upon his shoulder the metal had created a type of pauldron which would cover from his sternum and lower right pectoral, up over his shoulder and to the bottom of his shoulder blade. His shoulder blade itself being an extra hunk of metal to cut through. The pauldron was 3 inches thick over the shoulder and thinned out to 2 inches across the rest. It was half the metal on his chest as the rest would not reach in time. Ontop of this pauldron Xavier's chest muscles had also locked up similar to his neck in anticipation of the damage in an effort to provide more stopping power. Impact. Xaviers buckled knees dropped his body and raised the impact zone of Auzs blade to below his jaw, in perfect alignment with the metallic curve. If all went well the blade would be given no point in the neck to unload its force, cutting only a chunk of meat from Xaviers throat before being sent to his chest. Second impact. Xaviers buckled knees come into play again, bowing heavily under the force to absorb whatever impact they would be allotted. The impact would be dispersed against the pauldron, his shoulder blade and outer rib cage as well as various muscles. All of which, except bone, would be attempting to compress ahead of its wounded counterparts to further wedge the blade in place. With any luck diagonally within and halfway through Xaviers right pectoral. Not a whimper or a grimace would come from Xavier as strings of his dark red blood flowed around the weapon, shifting to metal in piles along the blade to try and hold it in place. In his boot, a cut from earlier in the battle launches a spike into the ground in hopes of expanding once there and anchoring him. Xavier wanted Auz where he was, the other of his bladed whips was aimed for his back, with more than devious plans in mind. Should it hit, it would attempt to do so in Auz lower left back so that it may enter the body cavity and began to attack from within.</s>
<\|description\|>Mid to late forties * Like black clouds at the edge of the sky, men need only see Hrífa to know he is dangerous, and at least half-mad. His eyes, dull grey, are wild and animal, and they betray the stillness of his tongue; for he speaks seldom, except in selfish little murmurs and mumbles, always seeming to tell himself a story. * He was declared a níðingr many years ago for the practice of witchcraft. He has been accused too of using poisons, a coward's tools, to settle a feud; though they say that about most seiðmenn. Before that he was trusty with a spear, and though few songs told of his exploits in battle, even hardy warriors came instinctively to fear the beast which slumbers within that slender body. They've probably heard too many campfire rumors, which are sure to be exaggerated—probably. In any case, the king never bothered to exile him not because he was to be feared, but because he never really hurt anyone; his social ostracism drove him beyond the village, where he delighted himself with masturbation, fishing, and of course, conversation with the draugar and other spirits.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties (Vársiglingsaga) They had gathered in the mead-hall; for wood supplies were running low, and for the smithy there was too little charcoal to warm their bones; and for the thegn's modest hall at the center of the palisades, too little firewood again. It was much too large for their meager stores. They gathered in the mead-hall where they all could sit and huddle around a single hearth, and drink ale, to stay warm instead. The ordinary, mundane folks of the town, the craftsmen and merchants and farmers, must have thought they would recognize everyone at this most dire of civil meetings, marked by hunger, and by that wretched, ubiquitous cold. They wore their shock in their faces then, when their "local" population included known criminals; níðingar; those who swindled and stole; those they thought had been exiled, or at least outlawed, long ago. And those men had the spines to show up here, now, in the village's time of most urgent need? Among them was Hrífa Rat-eater, so named in effigy by these people who had declared him unfit for their ways of life. He seemed agreeable in sitting at the far end of the hall, quite far from the flames—with the rest of the undesirables—where the sturdy warriors near the thegn and his radiant warmth would have shunned him. While a strange odor followed him about, and assailed the noses of those he sat beside, it was not egregiously unpleasant, rather like a vague, uneasy dread as compared to a true marrow-quaking fear. None knew how he caught word that this news, this message, might be of relevance to him; nor what went through his big bony head to make him think that he would want to come hear it. He had come far from whatever cave or ditch he claimed for himself, somewhere surely far on the other side of the island, or long down the coast. Nevertheless, here he was, and his whispers were intended for no ears but his own. Few heard him and thus he seemed amicable; polite, even. The others' whispers, however, carrying spite and condescension on their belligerent airs, he often enough could hear very well. Old, fat housewives especially liked to feel important, like they were scrubbing the community clean, by sending their subtle jabs his way, driving him back as the rabid boar with wing-lugged spears. His was a contaminating presence indeed, especially as he squatted so near their daughters and rowdy sons; to one he was a threat and the other, a bad influence. Or perhaps he could not hear them whatever. They relished that they evidently could spin the aspersions of their choosing, gossiping and slandering and besmirching, without consequence. If their husbands slapped them then they needed to wait for such moments as this before they let loose their inner pecking hens. Hrífa stuck a small copper spoon in his ear, excavating wax as he watched the wooden throne at the other end of the mead-hall; though terribly rude, a Norseman still he was, and their hygiene bested all others in all the kingdoms. If the thegn, his huskarlar, his goðar, noticed the Rat-eater at all, they tried to pay him little mind, and by Hrífa's eyes, largely succeeded. Perhaps as his own form of subtle insult—or perhaps he simply paid their mores and folkways no mind, even as he sat in their hall, after how callously they had cast him out—he moved for a tankard of beer, and filled a tall pewter mug for himself. If anyone objected they lacked the courage to express this disapproval; and once again, he paid their defamations no mind. He was not the first fugitive in Iceland nor the most depraved.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Excited didn't even begin to describe her feelings. Overwhelmed perhaps…Jubilant, exuberant, a little sick to her stomach perhaps... Ásdís could barely contain herself, her constant shifting and wriggling on the bench she shared with others of her age or sex causing irritated glances to be thrown in her direction. But what did Ásdís care? If the rumors were right then this was her chance! Finally to prove herself, to be free of the shadows of her family and to, for once, stand on her own and show that she too was a warrior. Her honor and bravery were of equal measure to those in the community she so looked up to. The fact that the opposite end of the hall was filled with miscreants and cripples was of little notice to Ásdís. The darting looks into the shadows at the back were missed by the youngest Bright Eye, too fixated was she on the group of important warriors bantering near the hearth. Her future was right there. She could smell it. Taste it. Eagerly she leaned forward. What were they saying? Furtively Ásdís looked about her father, surely he was here? It was too important a meeting to miss. He stood resting against the far wall, his typical thoughtful expression replaced with something between dislike and disbelief. The winter had been a hard one, it was true. It was true all the more that the strong hands and arms were needed to ensure the survival of their people… But this? Sending untrained, untested whelps, and the leftovers? Cast offs? How could this be right? Ásdís smiled as her father looked her way. She would make him proud. And that was the worst of it. His youngest, off to seek her fortune and make her mark on the world with a bunch of fledglings and criminals. Adlif could barely contain his contempt for it all, crossing his arms over his massive chest and staring at the group of men bickering at the center of it all. If he could he would have kept her away, but Ásdís had her mind to this folly and there was naught Adlif could do or say to make her budge. At her core his daughter had iron. A fact that typically made a father proud, today he was silently cursing their lot.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties The chieftain was not a particularly powerful man except by the measure of this peasants and freemen; though a þegn, most of his lands were empty, with few inhabitants paying few taxes. Maybe this was the root cause of his ostentatious nature; for he wore the best clothes he could, in the finest green dyes afforded from faraway lands; and he sat in the nearest thing they had to a throne, a tall wooden chair, cushioned in stuffed linen, carved at its facets with runes and snaking dragons. When he had quaffed the very last of his beer, of which the village possessed a startling abundance, he turned the cup over, and smacked its lip repeatedly into the table, pretending at being a sort of gavel. He was tall and burly, as befitting this people; he was measured the strongest warrior in the tribe, and one of the wiser. His wavy grey hair, stained by the last few flecks of black which in his youth had filled his mane, draped luxuriously like ivy off these hulking shoulders. And in his acrid green eyes, he peered across his room of subjects, waiting patiently, if with a certain smoldering angst.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Typically Ásdís could care less how long the elders took to come to a decision. Typically she would be chatting away with her friends and companions, laughing and joking just as loudly as the rest, betting and needling and ultimately having a good time. Typically such things were of no consequence to Ásdís and so it did not matter if the chieftain was swift with his proclamations or as slow and dragging as the oldest mule in the soggiest pasture. Today was not typical and as soon as Fjalfar set his cup down Ásdís was leaning forward, her eyes keen, her lips pressed together tightly as a thrilling fear swept through her body. He would announce his reason for bringing them here. The Chieftain would speak and finally Ásdís would know her place. Her eagerness to hear was not shared. Women, mothers and the likes, in the back bickered and bantered more, what did they care if it took a few more minutes for Fjalfar to be heard? And men also laughed and drank, oblivious to Ásdís' plight. Only the young like herself were completely silent. In what seemed to be hours but could only be seconds the room came to some semblance of quiet. Quivering Ásdís glanced to her father before feeling her eyes whipping to Fjalfar. Why did her father look so grim? Shouldn't he be as expectant as she? This thought was quickly forgotten as the Chieftain finally opened his mouth to speak.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties As he stood, suddenly Fjalfar towered over his wife who sat beside him, a fragile little thing with a face much too kind and homely; not at all matching the ferocity of the man who had deflowered and claimed her as his own. And on the other side, the chieftain loomed too over the huskarl, his bodyguard, who propped between his knees a massive axe on a handle nearly as tall as he. Underneath his peaked helmet they could see only the soldier's wispy black beard dangling from his chin; they knew it was Úða, but they could not see his short jet hair, nor his eyes which seemed infinitely deep in their darkness like a malevolent nighttime sea. Fjalfar's eyes like a predator's scanned the crowd in vain for those rebels, those irreverent toads, who dared defy his authority, and on such a drastic day. If authority alone did not quell them, he thought, then sheer power must; he shall scream til his voice has inundated theirs and drowned them! "The ship's hull has been scrubbed of barnacles," he roared, "and its deck flooded of rats. It has been painted anew, and given a new sail, free of holes and patches." He had pressed his hand, weighed down with silver rings, augustly to his breast. Only if the crowds' volume subsided did his in turn. "She's as fine a ship as we ever have seen in this place! But now she needs a crew, equally fine, to sail her." At this announcement arrived a scoffing laughter from the rear of the crowd; issued forth by someone obscured from view, who this false invisibility bequeathed too great a confidence. Fjalfar positively scowled, flashing his age-yellowed teeth, fury forming in his brow and the corners of his thick lips. "It is true that our greatest warriors shall not embark in this week," he growled. "It is true that some of the men in this room are—disgraced." He had paused, choosing the word diplomatically. "But among them shall be our own kin, our own blood and honor! Do not be so quick to besmirch the entire crew, for the sake of the few whose names you find 'unsavory.' And further, when this ship embarks, no longer shall they be criminals and children, witches and traitors; no, they will be our salvation, and warriors, united all under a single sail. So I say again: do not meddle lightly with their honor, which may yet be restored, so that you're rendered a talkative fool!"</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Adlif knew the avid look on his daughter's face, knew the hungry stare and the narrowing of her eyes. She was drawn in, captured, by their Chieftain. Bitterly Adlif acknowledged that Fjalfar was a master of the word. He could rouse even the dullest of crowds, and this collection of youth and honorless men were keen for the opportunities this ship, this task, afforded them. They ate up Fjalfar's words and waited on bated breath for more. His daughter was easily entrapped by their brave leader's words. She wanted to prove herself so badly, it was clear. Adlif wondered if he had done Ásdís a disservice by keeping her so sheltered all her life. Had he forced her hand now? If only he had let her try as her siblings had, perhaps now she would not be so willing to plunge head first into this foolish mission. These thoughts were atypical for Adlif and he frowned all the more for them. His life had been so straightforward until now...It was not like the warrior to question their chief, or even more so his daughter. Ásdís was completely unaware of her father's struggles. Her eyes shone and her cheeks flushed with excitement. This adventure was the start for her, her way to stand alone on her own two feet and show the world she was more than just the youngest Bright Eye, more than mediocre, to stand in the spotlight and not share a speck of it with her brothers or sisters. The glory, the riches, the titles… It would all be hers. Visions of the raiding parties she would lead blinded her to the looks of incredulity and mockery of Fjalfar's finest warriors. Had she only brought her head out of the clouds perhaps Ásdís would have known...Would have noticed that these tried and true men did not think this a worthy cause. Perhaps then she might use her brain and wonder why it was that no one but herself had faith in this mission. Alas, as one in the heat of passion is likely to do, she saw only the shining future for all she hoped it to be, rather than the dark and decidedly ignoble path it promised.</s>	<\|message\|>Mid to late forties Fjalfar heard the minute mumblings, and to a degree had expected them. He let his eyes, like spring saplings shooting up from the melting snow, roll up toward the ceiling, the noises wearing on his patience which always was so threadbare. Of course, he had not gained a reputation as a ferocious raider just for calm, collected airs; for mercy and patience! "The prevailing argument amongst you hushed whisperers—who once again, I see, lack the courage to come up here and say these things to my face, for all to behold—is that we should send our best soldiers, our seasoned víkingar! But now I ask you of cowardly whispers: should the winter thaw, who then will till and tend our fields, while our young, strong men are in Bretwalda or Frankia? Who shall push the plow and tame the aurochs? That's right: the very people who you have set out to decry today. Whatever fate the nornir have spun for us, they have called for us to place our faith in these, the forsaken of our people."</s>
<\|description\|>Mid to late forties * Like black clouds at the edge of the sky, men need only see Hrífa to know he is dangerous, and at least half-mad. His eyes, dull grey, are wild and animal, and they betray the stillness of his tongue; for he speaks seldom, except in selfish little murmurs and mumbles, always seeming to tell himself a story. * He was declared a níðingr many years ago for the practice of witchcraft. He has been accused too of using poisons, a coward's tools, to settle a feud; though they say that about most seiðmenn. Before that he was trusty with a spear, and though few songs told of his exploits in battle, even hardy warriors came instinctively to fear the beast which slumbers within that slender body. They've probably heard too many campfire rumors, which are sure to be exaggerated—probably. In any case, the king never bothered to exile him not because he was to be feared, but because he never really hurt anyone; his social ostracism drove him beyond the village, where he delighted himself with masturbation, fishing, and of course, conversation with the draugar and other spirits.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís was taken aback by those words. Forsaken? She was not forsaken! Surely she was untested...It was true...But only because no one had deemed her worthy of testing. That was purely a miscalculation on THEIR part, not hers! Looking about she finally realized that many felt the same way as their Chieftain: that this was a gamble. Feeling her cheeks flush with displeasure Ásdís had the misfortune to look in the direction of her father and see the same discontented look in his features. Even he did not think she would succeed! Ásdís was spared the opportunity to speak out against the naysayers as a mother in the back finally cried out "And what of our children!? Who will tend to the fields if they do not return?" Many around the woman, more mothers, nodded in agreement.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Fjalfar searched the crowd desperately for this outburst. As the whispers and mumbles around her grow bolder, they worked to obfuscate her voice; but he saw her, and he smiled. Amidst his sharp and manly features the warmth of his smiling cheeks could strike some off balance. "'Who,' indeed," he murmured, quietly enough that he may have said it only to himself. "Yet no matter who we send, we may find salvation or doom. Only the gods can know. I am blind to the ways of fate, and so I must throw my lot, and make my gamble. I will pray; I will make my sacrifices to Óðinn; and then I will send them forth." He knew she was right, even if she wasn't; that wary old mother, who cared far too much for the welfare of her child (as all mothers ought). But so was he. It was a risk, but so was sending the raiders, or sending no one whatever. When night set upon this story, only the valkyries could judge his soul's worth; only the nornir could say whether his choice was wise. Abruptly, through the tumultuous resistance of the mead-hall's naysayers, his hand lashed viper-like from his bosom. "Rise up, heroes! I want to see who among you seek the glories of other lands."</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Just as Ásdís was wondering if the old woman had been right, was she abandoning her people to seek glory only for herself? Was she ultimately being selfish and a coward by not staying and helping…? Fjalfar's words had her instantly on her feet. She wanted to be a hero so badly, to be more than just Ásdís , to be more than just a small girl in a family with many girls. Was that so wrong? The grim look of determination in Ásdís' eyes made Adlif feel some relief. Ásdís was clever enough, bold enough. She'd fare well...She'd survive surely and bring honor to her own name. And then the wandering and the wondering would end and his last child would know her place in the world. This might be a fool's mission but that did not mean Ásdís could not find her way. Uncomfortably Adlif nodded in acquiescence to his daughter's wishes, trying to find pride for this choice but finding only misgivings. Uneasily Adlif watched as his daughter strode up to the gaggle of youth and the likes forming around Fjalfar, she was smaller than many, her shoulders and hips narrower, her arms slender in her plain wool dress. Immediately Adlif had the urge to rush forward, to grab Ásdís by the neck and haul her back home. She was too rash! Too young! Too small! She couldn't do this. Grappling with his own insecurities Adlif stood unmoving, braced against the wall. Be reasonable… He told himself. Ásdís was not the youngest nor the smallest. She was a woman grown really, she was no fool. Surely she was over zealous at times and passion gripped her tightly, but his daughter was capable of more than just wandering around the pastures, chatting with the swine… Ásdís herself had none of these worries or doubts. Their great leader asked for heros and she had stepped forward, pride bursting from every pore of her.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Too far away to properly hear the chieftain—though it was something vaguely related to ships and sailing, Hrífa knew—he squinted, as if his hearing and his vision were somehow symbiotic; he leaned back and forth in his seat, trying to look past all the bare heads and skullcaps and bonnets, too. He decided he needed to get closer, and as he stood, he was the second person to do so, after a particular spunky farm-girl. But as there came a third, a fourth, a tenth, and beyond, it struck Hrífa as just mildly odd. I suppose the chieftain needs to speak louder, he thought; look at how many people couldn't hear his speech! Even a few from the front! The chatter of the crowd did not grant the chieftain any boons in that regard, naturally. Hrífa was going to slip along the wall and catch the chieftain's words from a sideline vantage, but as these children and ne'er-do-wells gathered in the center of the mead-hall, near the hearth, he realized he probably ought to fit in. Further, he feared the hound-like bloodthirst of that huskarl, who would suspect him perhaps of trying to get too close. As he joined the crowd he pushed along its side, hoping to be close enough, or else getting up at all was a damned waste, he knew. By happenstance Ásdís acknowledged his presence before he hers, and without having to turn around…</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís initially pleased to have been the first to stand and join the chieftain was now slightly vexed by the press of bodies around her, easing back she found more space and glanced around. A tall man was near her. She didn't recognize him immediately and wondered how that could be, their tribe was not so large as to not know one another, at least by sight. These thoughts did not trouble Ásdís much and she smiled excitedly up at the fellow who, since he was in the queue to join the ship, would be her fellow shipmate. "I am going to make a great warrior!" She proclaimed breathlessly, cheeks hot with a flush and eyes wide. Feeling generous in the moment she added "You will too." and clapped the man, her brother in arms, on the arm.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Hrífa needed a moment to realize the girl was talking to him; he'd seen her face, pretty and just slightly plump, in his sharp peripherals, and as he turned to face her, he blinked. It took much too long to blink, as he squinted his eyes and pried them open again in jagged motions, as if coercing them from his own body. "That's nice!" said the Rat-eater, and she sensed no sarcasm in his enthusiastic reply; nor did he intend any. "Is that what the crowd is about?" He tried to gesture sweepingly around him but found he lacked the room. He only ended up bumping someone in the back, which thankfully this person appeared not to notice; for indeed, they were smashing themselves all up toward the throne like a longship dashed on the rocks jutting from the sea.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís gaped at the man for a moment before a jubilant laugh escaped her. Too loud and too harsh, neighbors turned to glare at the noise but quickly turned away. How could he not know what he was signing up for!? Grinning at the silliness of it all Ásdís ignored the press of bodies forcing her closer and closer to her companions. On the ship they'd be this close anyway; quarters would be tight. "Of course that is what we are lining up for!" She piped eagerly. "Honor! Bravery! A chance to win our names and shields…" She had a dreamy look in those bright round eyes, as if being strapped into a wooden death trap was the finest thing she could ever dream. Adlif had lost track of his daughter for a moment, only a moment. But when he found her again she was socializing with the seiðmann of all people! The damnable girl was too friendly, too trusting! Had she no brain? No wits? "Ásdís!" He shouted above the den, determined to tell her that no daughter of his would consort with a witch. But the dozy redhead was animatedly gesticulating to her companion, pushed closer and closer to the man as the crowd around her compressed. Of her father's cries she heard naught. "Isn't it glorious?" She wanted to know, beaming up at her companion. "I've never left home before…" The smallest frowns curved her lips as a knot of worry gripped Ásdís tightly. But just was quickly as it came it was gone, replaced with good natured enthusiasm. "Have you?"</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "Once or twice," the Rat-eater said. "There are lots of trees and rocks." He appeared sincerely convinced that this detailed description would be of value to her. He was peering over his shoulder now; if he was not already so drained of his colorful humors, he would have been seen to pale in his epiphany. He had realized, at last, that as he stood, in his current predicament, he was volunteering to become a raider, and to earn oníðingr status through blood, steel, and the salt of the crooning sea. Strangely this prospect did not excite him much—mayhap he had acclimated to hermeticism, and in fact had grown quite fond of all the privacy and silence he commanded all for himself—but as he tried to push back through the crowd, he found that he could not. "Oh—oh, dear." The people behind him prevented his escape. Like a finger-trap toy, he could enter but not leave, not without great struggle. And suddenly it was already too late to leave, for Fjalfar had thrown out his arms in a great embrace for all his saviors. "Today the ship is packed and loaded. Tomorrow she raises her sail, and embarks for the kingdom of the Franks!" Probably too few people cheered, clapped, and otherwise celebrated for Ásdís' tastes; for Hrífa it was far too many. The cruel reality had struck him that he just made an oath, and to break it might earn him a proper outlawry, ousted from his little home in the woods, driven away from all his animal friends! As most of the crowds left, the heroes were ordered to stay, and meet their new captain. "Well, I was good with a spear once," Hrífa said to his new friend. His smile was not very assuring, but he clearly seemed eager to take his situation in stride.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Adlif shifted uncomfortably on his feet as the rest of the people started filtering out of the mead-house. It was expected he would as well. If he stayed and warned Ásdís off her current companion the contrary creature was likely to disobey him purely to prove she could. If he left, and let her learn on her own the erroneous nature of her choices… But it was not in her father to just let his child walk alongside unsavory characters such as the witch… The crowds pulled and pushed until Adlif gave in and went with the tides of people training out of the hall. His daughter would not leave today. He still had time to tell her. Blissfully oblivious to her companion's distress Ásdís was glad the bystanders would be leaving. She could meet their captain and make a good impression, show him she'd be a strong arm given the proper tutelage. It did strike her as odd that the tall man was ONCE good with a spear but considered himself no longer able… For the first time she really looked at the man. He was tall to be sure, but of a more lanky set than most men she knew. His clothes sat oddly on his frame and while Ásdís wouldn't think them dirty, neither would she think them clean. She hadn't seen him limping but then she hadn't seen his approach...Perhaps he was one of the ill or crippled joining the crew? "If you were once handy then you shall be again!" She proclaimed assuredly. "I am Ásdís Bright Eyes. I will help you regain your renown with the spear…" Her eyes narrowed in wicked humor "And you will help me distinguish between the rocks and the trees…" Her confidence while misguided was apparent, and while she barely could handle a spear with any particular effect Ásdís felt no fear of the unknown. At least not at this very moment. Perhaps a foolish trait for a girl barely into womanhood to have, but then Ásdís had never been considered particularly wise.</s>	<\|message\|>Mid to late forties "All right. Looks like it's time to go," said the man, looking around as the people diffused away. He did not need her approval or her permission; he started walking to the exit even before she noticed and tried to catch up. "Wait!" she said. "Didn't you hear him? We're supposed to stay, and—!" Hrífa had swiveled on his heels, scanning the room once more. He shrugged. "I reckon we'll get more than enough of him once we're on a boat with him. Right?" And so he appeared to vanish; of course. Because Ásdís fancied herself a good girl, now a loyal and obedient soldier, she knew she had to stay, whether she wanted to or not. Yet eagerness nonetheless continued to imbue her actions. So she stayed, and Hrífa was gone behind the doors of the mead-hall. Outside there were parents waiting, women armed with hugs and kisses and men with their shirts of mail, their helmets polished to a mirror sheen. If they were wealthier men they offered their adventurous relatives swords, seaxes, and good axes; if poor, these children and undesirables could only afford to take their wood axes, their sickles, and their pitchforks. Inside, meanwhile, the last man in the mead-hall who was not plagued by níþ or by old festered wounds had stayed behind, leaning cockily against the throne still warm with Fjalfar's scent. Tall, strong, and beautifully blond, with his hair and beard done up in elaborate death-braids, he was Hralding, their new ship-captain.</s>
<\|description\|>Mid to late forties * Like black clouds at the edge of the sky, men need only see Hrífa to know he is dangerous, and at least half-mad. His eyes, dull grey, are wild and animal, and they betray the stillness of his tongue; for he speaks seldom, except in selfish little murmurs and mumbles, always seeming to tell himself a story. * He was declared a níðingr many years ago for the practice of witchcraft. He has been accused too of using poisons, a coward's tools, to settle a feud; though they say that about most seiðmenn. Before that he was trusty with a spear, and though few songs told of his exploits in battle, even hardy warriors came instinctively to fear the beast which slumbers within that slender body. They've probably heard too many campfire rumors, which are sure to be exaggerated—probably. In any case, the king never bothered to exile him not because he was to be feared, but because he never really hurt anyone; his social ostracism drove him beyond the village, where he delighted himself with masturbation, fishing, and of course, conversation with the draugar and other spirits.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "All right. Looks like it's time to go," said the man, looking around as the people diffused away. He did not need her approval or her permission; he started walking to the exit even before she noticed and tried to catch up. "Wait!" she said. "Didn't you hear him? We're supposed to stay, and—!" Hrífa had swiveled on his heels, scanning the room once more. He shrugged. "I reckon we'll get more than enough of him once we're on a boat with him. Right?" And so he appeared to vanish; of course. Because Ásdís fancied herself a good girl, now a loyal and obedient soldier, she knew she had to stay, whether she wanted to or not. Yet eagerness nonetheless continued to imbue her actions. So she stayed, and Hrífa was gone behind the doors of the mead-hall. Outside there were parents waiting, women armed with hugs and kisses and men with their shirts of mail, their helmets polished to a mirror sheen. If they were wealthier men they offered their adventurous relatives swords, seaxes, and good axes; if poor, these children and undesirables could only afford to take their wood axes, their sickles, and their pitchforks. Inside, meanwhile, the last man in the mead-hall who was not plagued by níþ or by old festered wounds had stayed behind, leaning cockily against the throne still warm with Fjalfar's scent. Tall, strong, and beautifully blond, with his hair and beard done up in elaborate death-braids, he was Hralding, their new ship-captain.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís watched as the tall man disappeared, he hadn't even introduced himself, in disbelief. Where could he want to be that was more important than being here? Now? This hall, meeting the captain. This was her destiny surely! She'd meet it head on. Turning to see the captain she recognized him immediately. Of course Ásdís had never had reason to approach Hralding, let alone speak to him, but he was easily identifiable. Tall, broad, fair, ice in his veins or so she had heard the other warriors say. He was an accomplished man and Ásdís found herself lingering at the back of the pack, watchful as Hralding considered his new crew. Was he amused by the lot? Angered? Hopeful? Ásdís could not tell, his expression too guarded and hidden from view for her to guess at his thoughts. Surely this was no small task to be under taking, but that didn't mean he wasn't excited by it all. Ice blue eyes fell over her and Ásdís could feel a blush covering her cheeks, green eyes meeting the icy stare of their leader for a moment longer than they ought to have before she dropped her gaze to the ground. Her stomach fluttered nervously and the redhead frowned. She was a warrior! Not some fickle maiden turned to puddles by some man's gaze. Straightening her back Ásdís told herself firmly to look up, chin up. She belonged here. Out beyond the hall Adlif was making his way slowly back to the farm, weary with the days events, with the knowledge that his daughter would be leaving at first light. His gaze was fixed on the path before him when the tone of the villagers behind him changed. Murmurs and whispers took on an accusatory tone. Adlif turned to see what had changed his peers and saw the witch shuffling out of the mead hall. The coward was not even staying to meet the captain. Ásdís' father straightened, and turned to intercept the witch. "What were you doing with Ásdís?" He wanted to know, his tone sharp and displeased.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "I'm afraid we won't have much time to whip you lots into fighting shape," Hralding said. Though he wore a stiff, bitter countenance, his voice bounced about with playful inflections. As he walked he seemed to lack a destination, loosely circling what remained of the mead-hall's congregation. "Which of you have fought before?" Of course he expected the worst: of those who could fight in a proper shieldwall, all were cowards and liars who could not be trusted to use their abilities in disciplined command. Nay, his crew was filled with those who had the talents but lacked the goodwill, and vice-versa: those eager to serve, obey, sweat, and bleed, but who would fall like sickled rye at the blade of the first decent warrior they met over there. Still, Hralding kept any pessimism to himself, for he had been given a task and it was not in his style to fail those who depended on him. He nodded with hesitant approval at any raised hands. "And you all know why you're here," he continued. "I'll tell you forthright: I don't care if it's for the community, for treasure, or for your own fractured ego. So long as we agree that we are now a team, and I'm the leader of this team, all of you are welcome here. Whatever you fight for, fight obediently and we shall have no quarrel." --- Meanwhile ... --- As he walked, Hrífa gnawed his fingernails against each other, trimming them down without need for a knife or a scissor. He worried only as to what he would do when he had one long, sharp nail remaining, with no others to cut it. It had not snowed in some time, so what snow laid on the ground was much trampled down into hard, dirty roads leading through the village. As Adlif stopped him Hrífa turned antsy, feeling this dirt seeping through his shoes and into his woolen socks. "Eh? Who?" He jogged his memory. "Oh; the girl! We spoke about trees."</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Acutely aware of Hralding circling the group Ásdís made an extra effort to stand up straight, her shoulders back, assuming what she could only hope was a look of self-assuredly calm and readiness at what was to come. In reality the way her green eyes flickered to Hralding belied her inability to look away and eagerness to please him. Yes she would be a warrior for the personal glory, and yes she was joining to help their tribe, but now she had a mighty leader who she would fight for diligently. She would never give him reason to quarrel with Ásdís. She' d make herself, her family, her tribe and her mighty leader proud. Any doubts Ásdís might have had previously evaporated at the stirring in her heart Hralding caused. Surely this was the loyalty and preeminence she heard the older warriors speak of? What it was to truly be a Viking? Adlif frowned deeply, the lines and crinkles of his face becoming stone at the witch's dismissive tone. Did he think Adlif would believe such a falsehood? "Trees…" He repeated as if the witch might reconsider his story and choose the honorable truth rather than these womanly deceits. "Whatever it was you spoke of…You will leave Ásdís alone." There was no doubt in her father's voice, the threat there not even thinly veiled. He leaned closer to the witch. While they were a similar height, Adlif was by far broader. "She is a good girl and you are not to corrupt her with your…your devious ways." The larger man loomed over the witch for a moment longer then straightened his shoulders. If the witch was truly a coward as rumor had it then this warning should be enough to keep his daughter out of harm's way.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "Well, she, she did seem more interested in discussing the children of trees, now that I recall it again," Hrífa conceded. Though he did not run he was soon leaning back with a mousey timidity quite befitting his epithet. The man was crazed and perhaps at times rather oblivious, but far from stupid, and the dauntlessness of this threat did not simply wash over him like the tides drifting over the seaweeds stuck in the sands; not at least when he had no immediate means to combat it. Hexing him was not a feasible option, Hrífa understood, til the witch was out of range of the man's bear-like fists. --- Meanwhile ... --- Had they nothing at all to say? No matter, Hralding thought. Maybe they feared him for now, but once they'd traversed a tempest in their proud little longboat, once they'd bled beside each other, once their hands grew the calluses of oars and came to resemble his own, they'd see him soon enough as just a sailor, albeit more experienced than they, and more grounded in northern manliness. "What's everyone scared of? Well, Fjalfar has already discussed where we're going and why," yawned Hralding, "at great detail. I've little else to add, really. Tomorrow you learn how to oar til your arms fall off."</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Goosebumps ran down her arms at the promise of hard work. Ásdís was so ready. Recognizing the dismissal she filtered out of the mead-hall slowly, careful not to be caught staring at Hralding (though she definitely stole a few more glances his way) while meandering through the throngs of people. Her mind wandered to what it was going to be like, to be a Viking in reality rather than just name. She thought of the treasures she'd bring home and the heroic deeds to her name, a sweet smile coming to her lips as she finally felt the damp fresh air hit her cheeks. Blinking in the watery sunlight Ásdís wondered if there were any more chores she ought to worry about before heading back to the farm. To pack! A skip to her step the red head started her way down the lane before spotting her father. Surprised to see who his companion was Ásdís hurried along to meet the two men. Adlif could see Ásdís coming out of the mead hall . She'd be with them very soon. His sharp eyes narrowed and he moved to grab the witch by the back of the neck. From afar this would look like a friendly gesture, pulling the man in for a confidential word. His grip however was not friendly. "You stay away from Ásdís. You and your Children Of Trees. Ásdís has no business wielding spears of any sorts!" He growled. Adlif hadn't been sure if the witch truly meant they had been discussing weaponry or the man had been making some lude remark to his manhood. Either was an unacceptable answer for Adlif, but if he put his foot down about the man he was sure his daughter would be contrary. Best to let her realize the witch was a weakling and a coward on her own. A smile crossed Adlif's face suddenly and he boomed with laughter as his daughter skipped up. Her green eyes moved between the two men uncertainly but she smiled all the same as it was good to see her father in such a bright mood. "You missed it!" She cried, turning to her companion breathlessly. "Hralding gave a magnificent speech…Really got the blood stirring!" The dreamy look in her eyes said it all. Ásdís was in love with her future, unable to see anything but the glory it was sure to be. She sighed romantically and pushed a lock of her dark red hair away from her rosie cheeks. "It will be splendid! We will sail, and raid and I will have many accolades to my name, and you yours my friend" she added generously to the witch, clapping him on the arm. "We'll be true Vikings and no one will question our place in the tribe anymore…" Ásdís started to go on down the path past her father and his friend, she needed to ready her things after all. She paused and turned with a cheery look. "And you can teach me how to wield your spear!" Oblivious to the alarm this proclamation might have brought to her father or her new found friend Ásdís went on her merry way. Adlif's hard eyes narrowed even more as his daughter sauntered off. Turning those hard eyes on the witch it seemed as if Adlif was considering right then and there to kill the man and save himself any worry while Ásdís was gone.</s>	<\|message\|>Mid to late forties The spear in question was in terrible disrepair, no doubt from neglect, with wind and weather hacking away at the shaft and splitting splinters. Upon the iron blade, too, they spat acrid breaths, which turned it orange and flaky. Like a babe weaned too early from the teat it sat and rotted in the corner, useless in all the hermit's endeavors; it did not aid him in hunting or fishing, and as far as he knew he had entered no blood-feuds with another man's family. No one seemed particularly keen either about stealing his lands or the meager products he reaped from them. But could a wolf truly outgrow fangs, or a stag antlers? Rather, when these things fell away, new ones grew in to fill the gaps. Warriors, similarly, perhaps could never escape their own tools of justice and survival; their antlers, too, found their way back into their hands. Eventually. "Well, before she tries to wield my spear," Hrífa mumbled naïvely, "I'd better go and polish it. Good day." He did not want her getting splinters, after all. And he, too, needed to pack his belongings. He'd begun to compile a list of necessities in his grey little brain just as he turned away from Adlif, and attempted to scurry away to his solitude.</s>
<\|description\|>Mid to late forties * Like black clouds at the edge of the sky, men need only see Hrífa to know he is dangerous, and at least half-mad. His eyes, dull grey, are wild and animal, and they betray the stillness of his tongue; for he speaks seldom, except in selfish little murmurs and mumbles, always seeming to tell himself a story. * He was declared a níðingr many years ago for the practice of witchcraft. He has been accused too of using poisons, a coward's tools, to settle a feud; though they say that about most seiðmenn. Before that he was trusty with a spear, and though few songs told of his exploits in battle, even hardy warriors came instinctively to fear the beast which slumbers within that slender body. They've probably heard too many campfire rumors, which are sure to be exaggerated—probably. In any case, the king never bothered to exile him not because he was to be feared, but because he never really hurt anyone; his social ostracism drove him beyond the village, where he delighted himself with masturbation, fishing, and of course, conversation with the draugar and other spirits.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "One of what?" As Hrífa the bench's qualities on his rump, he swung his gaze over his shoulder, watching the girl. But she was blathering again, and again drooling over the prettiest hunk of meat on the longship, he realized; not educated or even particularly intelligent, that witch, but neither was he blind! So not expecting an answer, he went back to his business. He realized he hadn't bothered yet to scrounge for proper armor, or for a shield to hang from the gunwale. Shields were cheap, he knew, so he reckoned he ought to at least find a shield a man could spare, if not a proper helmet or seax. As he stood again, wondering who his rowing-mate on that particular bench would be (on this ship there were two men to an oar), Hrífa poised feline-like to leap the gap between the wale and the dock, and as he landed, swung his arms back a little to hoist himself forward the last few inches. He had nearly fallen in, not that the occasional ice-bath ever hurt anyone. Besides, sometimes the nornir destined a man to fall into the water! "You, sir!" Hrífa called to the first man he saw who carried a shield, and who was not standing near any adolescents ready to take it from his hands. "How much copper would you want to sell that oak-board for?" Hralding meanwhile stood as gatekeeper to the gangplank, as if he was a net, siphoning the crew from the civilians, or amongst the would-be crewmen, the strong from the weak.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Peering over the edge of the ship Ásdís smiled back at her reflection before stowing away her gear and standing near Hralding as he was the final voice of who would join the crew. She felt entirely lucky and slightly satisfied with her place on board and tried to hide the smug smile coming to her. The witch was hollering at him. The man in question looked about rapidly, almost as if hoping he had misunderstood and in actuality the witch was calling to someone else. As it were no such luck was to be found. Frowning heavily the man with the shield wandered closer to the Witch. In reality he didn't need the shield anymore but the idea of selling it to Hrifa was undesirable. Wrestling for the need for more copper in his pockets than a shield that would see no action this season the tribesman crossed his arms over his chest as if pouting. "How much do you have?" He sneered back. Ásdís was not entirely surprised to see the smallest and youngest of the children as well as the oldest or most loathsome of the miscreants were turned away. This would be a hodgepodge crew but certainly not a damned one. With pride Ásdís gestured to the various empty rows, directing the new comers with some self-inflicted authority as to where they ought to sit. When she caught Hralding eyeing her with interest and speculation the red head blushed but remained in place. She was no girl to be sent about as he liked. She would show him an iron will, the will of a warrior. And Warrior's did not quake in the gaze of their leaders. Sniffing she instead head her head up high.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties The witch's mannerisms turned fidgety and frantic as he realized he had no coin to trade, nor the silver rings, both on the forearms and the fingers, which so many northern traders used as substitutes for legal mints. (Money they wore was more difficult for pickpockets to steal.) He did, however, have necklaces, mostly Þórr's-hammers, but also runes engraved into rectangles, and the odd crow or eight-legged horse; so many necklaces! Charms and wards were they, and most Nords deigned to wear one or two, as these were not magics wielded actively, but rather, passive ones worn. Which one would he offer? Hrífa struggled with this thought: would a large copper one be enough? Brass, pewter? Or would the man demand precious silver instead? Nervously Hrífa picked and prodded at his neck, trying to untangle the thongs from which these clattering metals hung. Ah, and what if the man cared what type of charm Hrífa offered him? The witch resolved then to dig out a fehu rune pendant, meaning "wealth." He struggled for a time, looking more anxious as he continually failed, like the charm would wear away or worse, reverse, as it dangled longer from his scrawny neck. Eventually he drew his knife, a short broken-back seax rusty and grey with use, and just sliced at the leather. Meekly he held the pendant out to the man. "H-here," Hrífa said. He was not visibly sweating, though he looked clammy with how nervous he had become.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Pity and scorn crossed the man's face as he watched the witch struggle with his pendants. The fact that he struggled so and seemed entirely discombobulated over the ordeal made the villager inclined to dismiss the witch and walk off. But he knew the man was off to the ship for the sake of the village, and this villager in question did not need the shield weighing down on his arm. All the more he himself had young children. They needed people like the witch to go out and seek the tribes fortune. So it was with an aggravated sigh of discontent that he took the pendant, wiping it off on his tunic before pocketing it and leveling the shield for the witch to take. "May it serve you well…" He muttered begrudgingly and turned to go.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties As men and boys alike stepped over the gangplank and upon the deck of the longship, many could not help but feel the captain's gaze scrutinizing them like an honed knife, slicing menacingly up and down their features in stark appraisal. Of these who paid him mind, the nervous and worried could be distinguished rather easily, with but a modicum of inference, from those more calm, collected, controlled; in a word, more experienced. While some acknowledged Hralding with a curt nod and proud bosom, others flinched from the intensity of his bright eyes. Of these, some blushed, feeling shame for having failed him so quickly by the quick-footedness of their courage, which retreated into some deep crevice of their hearts. While all knew his name and his face, the warrior appeared to hold few friends among the crew, as none let his name cross their tongues, and no lips deigned to smile in acknowledgement of his large, handsome features. He was a neighbor, and in time perhaps, a comrade, but not a confidant to any of these spoiled lots, from the youthful boys to the seasoned, stained criminals. "Does this ship have a name?" asked a would-be soldier, rather young in the face but with long red hair braided immaculately in a wise style. His mail shirt did not fit him; it was much too large and baggy, so it probably belonged to the father or an uncle despite perfection glittering in its links. Whoever owned it before, he had polished it meticulously. "Sjórheror," Hralding hissed. Sea-arrow. This wonderfully excited the young lad, who, like the witch, was quite particular about which oar would be "his" in just a few minutes, as he marched up and down the rows in search of this perfect bench. Hrífa meanwhile hopped back on board, averting the crowds near the gangplank through his daring. This time he nearly tripped as he landed, the shield's guige catching on some corner or other in his descent. Still, despite his waning grace, Rat-eater looked immensely proud of his new shield, which was both clean and roundly sturdy, the rawhide lining scarcely scratched, no less bitten into by sword or axe! On its facet was painted a gold eagle over a green field, its august wings curling like tendrils of fire.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Sea-Arrow. Ásdís loved it! Shift and deadly, cutting through the water, not sailing but flying. And an arrow had a bit of grace to it, not as a sword or axe with their brute force but instead a thing of precision and delicate skill. One time when her father had been too far into his drinks the red head had overheard her mother confiding in another wife that she rather fancied she was better with a bow and arrow than Adlif was. "I exactly plan out each meal, each stich, each day. Whereas he plans out only as far as the next thing that needs tending to in front of him. How can you be a good shot when you cannot see long distances?" The other wife had chortled and agreed, regaling Ásdís' mother with a story of her own husbands foolery, but she had never forgotten the gleam of pride in her mother's eye at finally admitting her superiority over her husband in this field. Sighing wistfully at the memory Ásdís settled in her own spot beside the Rat Eater. She was a bit worried that he was so…Unclean but he looked more able to pull an oar than the few seats left besides small runty boys, and less likely to try to distract her with conversation as the more seasoned men with space besides them. Glancing over to the Rat eater in question Ásdís studied his new addition with some approval. The painting was very fine. "A lovely shield…" She complimented before reaching to take the oar, testing her grip. The wood was solid but rough. Her hands were used to gardening and farm work, it wasn't as if Ásdís was a milk softened maiden… Still she knew her hands would not hold up well. Would it be shameful to make gloves and wear them? Shouldn't she push through the pain? Be glad of the new blisters? Wear them as badges of her effort and merit?</s>	<\|message\|>Mid to late forties "I like it too," Hrífa said, his bosom puffing partridge-proud. Though he did not take it particularly as a compliment; after all, it was not his handiwork. He did not craft this fine shield, nor any of its parts. He was quick to hang it by its guige from the wale, and others prepared their stations similarly, squirreling their weapons and mail shirts away underneath their benches, and their shields upon the ship's wide walls. It was filling up. Looking over his shoulder, Hrífa was pleased that, although most their "soldiers" were rather too thin, and a rare few sported distinctly feminine curves underneath their thick wintry clothes, none carried their criminality on their sleeves! Through their tattoos, their bone charms and copper runes, their sex and their station, he could only speculate as to their crimes; they deceived his eyes, appearing to him as normal as he. Of course, he had been warned, and by the chieftain's speech, no less, about this queer little dread which rattled at the back of his mind. Indeed, because Hrífa knew that some of these men and boys were sure to be outlaws, and níðingar, and drunkards and second sons and his fellow witches, subconsciously, down in his frail little heart, he wondered which men he could trust, and which would attempt to steal his salted fish. The Rat-eater had noticed as the crowds gathered at the shore that nothing had been stolen from the ship, but he recognized that this was not a purity of spirit which stayed men's hands, but rather, their fear of retribution. The village, and its broad-shouldered king, surely would not have tolerated such a transgression as that, in their urgent hour. While Hrífa pulled his oar out from beneath the benches, and petitioned Ásdís to help, Hralding meanwhile continued to sieve through the growing crew, searching for that man who was the most skilled and experienced among them, the man who would bear the great burden of helping him to raise and lower the Sjórheror's single sail. It was rolled up at that time, but with enough finesse and care poured into its handling, they could ride not the waves, but the winds, and spare themselves the callus-building drudgery or rowing for many pleasant hours. Suddenly the gangplank had been yanked away, threatening to fall overboard as it was pulled upon the deck. Hralding was not moved by the dejected and crestfallen faces of those on dry land who had been too late to cross it; neither did he acknowledge the worries and woes of the crew's families onshore. In fact he seemed to nothing nothing but his crew, and their instruments of war. "I'm not one for long speeches," he growled. "So turn to our left, and remember what you see. When your hands sting with salt and splinters, and your arms burn, and you're ready to give up—" he swept his arm out toward the village— "I want these to be the faces you remember. These are the people you are failing if you give up! All right. Let's get this ship moving."</s>
<\|description\|>Mid to late forties * Like black clouds at the edge of the sky, men need only see Hrífa to know he is dangerous, and at least half-mad. His eyes, dull grey, are wild and animal, and they betray the stillness of his tongue; for he speaks seldom, except in selfish little murmurs and mumbles, always seeming to tell himself a story. * He was declared a níðingr many years ago for the practice of witchcraft. He has been accused too of using poisons, a coward's tools, to settle a feud; though they say that about most seiðmenn. Before that he was trusty with a spear, and though few songs told of his exploits in battle, even hardy warriors came instinctively to fear the beast which slumbers within that slender body. They've probably heard too many campfire rumors, which are sure to be exaggerated—probably. In any case, the king never bothered to exile him not because he was to be feared, but because he never really hurt anyone; his social ostracism drove him beyond the village, where he delighted himself with masturbation, fishing, and of course, conversation with the draugar and other spirits.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "I like it too," Hrífa said, his bosom puffing partridge-proud. Though he did not take it particularly as a compliment; after all, it was not his handiwork. He did not craft this fine shield, nor any of its parts. He was quick to hang it by its guige from the wale, and others prepared their stations similarly, squirreling their weapons and mail shirts away underneath their benches, and their shields upon the ship's wide walls. It was filling up. Looking over his shoulder, Hrífa was pleased that, although most their "soldiers" were rather too thin, and a rare few sported distinctly feminine curves underneath their thick wintry clothes, none carried their criminality on their sleeves! Through their tattoos, their bone charms and copper runes, their sex and their station, he could only speculate as to their crimes; they deceived his eyes, appearing to him as normal as he. Of course, he had been warned, and by the chieftain's speech, no less, about this queer little dread which rattled at the back of his mind. Indeed, because Hrífa knew that some of these men and boys were sure to be outlaws, and níðingar, and drunkards and second sons and his fellow witches, subconsciously, down in his frail little heart, he wondered which men he could trust, and which would attempt to steal his salted fish. The Rat-eater had noticed as the crowds gathered at the shore that nothing had been stolen from the ship, but he recognized that this was not a purity of spirit which stayed men's hands, but rather, their fear of retribution. The village, and its broad-shouldered king, surely would not have tolerated such a transgression as that, in their urgent hour. While Hrífa pulled his oar out from beneath the benches, and petitioned Ásdís to help, Hralding meanwhile continued to sieve through the growing crew, searching for that man who was the most skilled and experienced among them, the man who would bear the great burden of helping him to raise and lower the Sjórheror's single sail. It was rolled up at that time, but with enough finesse and care poured into its handling, they could ride not the waves, but the winds, and spare themselves the callus-building drudgery or rowing for many pleasant hours. Suddenly the gangplank had been yanked away, threatening to fall overboard as it was pulled upon the deck. Hralding was not moved by the dejected and crestfallen faces of those on dry land who had been too late to cross it; neither did he acknowledge the worries and woes of the crew's families onshore. In fact he seemed to nothing nothing but his crew, and their instruments of war. "I'm not one for long speeches," he growled. "So turn to our left, and remember what you see. When your hands sting with salt and splinters, and your arms burn, and you're ready to give up—" he swept his arm out toward the village— "I want these to be the faces you remember. These are the people you are failing if you give up! All right. Let's get this ship moving."</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís turned obligingly to the left as she peered across the shore. Her own parents had not attended having said goodbye to their smallest daughter the night before. The redhead took this as a sign in their belief that she would succeed and turned away with a security in herself. A child would always believe she could be fruitful if only her parents told her so. For they knew much more than herself and how could they be wrong? Their assurance in her great deeds to come more premonition than hopeful wishing. Turning back to her companion the rush of confidence she felt was faltering already and they hadn't even left the beach line. "Do you think the splinters will be particularly bad?" She asked trying for light and teasing and falling short. More concerned and uncertain. The bright smile on her young face was at odds with the furrowing of her brow and the sidelong glances to their noble leader. His speed had indeed been short. It was always daunting when your day dreams were not being met. Of course Ásdís had always thought of the riveting speeches she'd give and receive. Sighing she tugged on the oar at the command to get the ship moving. Even with the witch at her side the motion was unfamiliar and tentative under her hands. Too much pressure and she was yanking the wood awkwardly against her companion, not enough and the oar was not really moving in time with it's companions. Soon Ásdís was consumed with the task and doing her best to perfect her technique while shooting furtive glances at Hralding in order to ensure he didn't know how terrible an oarsman she was. For Now. Ásdís assured herself shoving the plank away from herself and bumping elbows with Rat Eater. She'd improve, surely!</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties The ship was pushed off the dock by the people on that side of the ship, which was crudely and haphazardly rowed out a few hundred meters. Hralding dropped anchor, and began to speak to the crew about the fine art of carving speed from the waves with these their wooden chisels; he explained that everyone needed to row in unison, totally synchronized and harmonious to each other. He began to teach them their first rowing song, which would help them keep the beat with each other as they sang it. The lyrics regarded a man who, knowing that his lord was wanted by the king for crimes unpunished, cut off his lord's head and delivered it to his king, and then had his own head cut off for treason against his leader. Both men's heads were hung beside each other from the same city gate. Some of the sailors knew the song already, and their eyes glazed over as the novices caught up to their expertise. "It stops hurting after a week or two," Hrífa had said, though his own eyes had turned glassy long before these harangues began. He already knew how to sail, so he stared out disinterestedly over the vast, limitless horizon, wondering how far away was the edge of the world, and hoping perhaps to see a family of puffins darting around the rocks. Almost instinctively he rubbed his fingers together, and though he wore wool mittens, he knew his calluses had faded away long ago. He, too, would hurt. But it was a strangely soothing pain, a pain which spoke of the ship's progress. When a rower's hands seemed bitten by frost and friction, he knew he had worked hard that day. They were badges of honor, those patches of toughened skin. Nevertheless he hoped for a blessing. His oar was to be rowed by a young girl; and though he was a man, he was a scrawny one, withered away in his solitude. Hrífa hoped the ship would not lean with their weakness. He looked behind himself again, wondering if their half of the crew would compensate. The wind felt good and strong but for their sail to capture it, and bloat with its whispers, its direction would need to shift westward a time.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís had heard the song once or twice before but never in detail or length and never for the purpose of learning it herself. While the red head had a good memory and enjoyed singing as much as the next lass, the story itself was gruesome (albeit fair) and had Ásdís cringing from time to time as she fumbled over the words. If she were beheaded for being disloyal to her lord and yet loyal to her King Ásdís would at least hope her head wouldn't be set next to that of the person she had killed. And what a funny thought that was… How could someone at once be loyal and disloyal? Didn't that argue the definition of loyalty? And had the man been Loyal to himself? Loyal to his morals and codes? Did that even matter? Ásdís shook her head trying to clear it of such unusual and deep thoughts. What did it matter?! She was not in that position and likeliness was she'd never be, so why ponder uselessly after something that would never come to be? Disturbed by her bleak wonderings she was actually glad the rat eater had spoken, sharply looking over at him. Her hopes died quickly. But perhaps she could draw him into conversation…? "Oh good. It's not that I'm so vain or afraid of pain, so much as I am concerned the blisters would lessen my competency." Flushing at this she hurried to clarify. "Not that I won't work through the pain. I'll be an excellent rowing partner don't you worry…" Ásdís sighed as the boat rocked with a wave. Not out of the harbor and she was already behaving foolishly. Turning her green eyes to her companion she smiled forlornly. "Do you think if you were beheaded as the man in the song was, would you like your head to be placed beside that of your previous ruler who you beheaded yourself?"</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Though he gave her a queer, sidelong glance, hurriedly Hrífa searched elsewhere for his answer, away in the distant clouds. If he was honest, he was searching for birds again. "Once my head has been cut, I probably won't much mind what happens to my body," he confessed in a hushed whisper, as though Hralding was on the other side of the ship, at the aft, steering the rudder, the witch saw no cause to disrupt his lessons. "If I do, I'd like to see it eaten." "By animals," he added clumsily, as if that was in doubt. But why not? Every tree-nut he ever ground to flour may have belonged to a mouse, who fancied the gaunt intruder rather like a towering thief likewise! Then all his life he had breathed air which belonged to terns and gulls, and gulped water which was the house of many fish. He was remorseless and really rather selfish in his taking of those things which his physiology demanded—unapologetic—but this came too with the stipulation of debt. Some day he hoped to return to the earth what he had borrowed, and rotting in a tomb, this was not possible; hanging from a king's gate, he was out of reach for all things but the ravens. He did not fancy that fate fair and just to the other critters who held him in their debt, the others he owed a pound of his flesh. What he loved about this place he called nature, and all its inhabitants, was that it obeyed its own laws, and these laws cared not for the whimsies of men, as men were encapsulated within these laws, and they too obeyed this code, even when they thought they rebelled against nature by erecting walls and hiding behind them, building keeps high into the sky to escape the floods, and pits deep in the earth to avoid the winds. Men's laws were just different. Hrífa obeyed them (most times) despite disagreeing with them; he knew well why Håkon deserved death at the hands of Þormóðr Karkr, and why the slave in turn was deemed a traitor: the dishonor of his treachery outweighed the heroics of his vigilantism. But who was a man to declare who "deserved" what? Who owned that infallible right to deliver his fellows to the afterlife? The world claimed its dues without fretting for these highfalutin abstracts, often enough. Supposedly wicked men lived and supposedly good ones fell like birch limbs to wicked axes. But eventually all men paid the same debt, and the witch, while not anticipating his day with any enthusiasm, also did not fear the time when his caught up with him. He would pay it gladly.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed "Eaten?" Ásdís repeated uncertainly. She hadn't much thought of her own death, it was foretold and it would happen when it would. So she hadn't considered much either what would happen to her remains. Now that she thought of it Ásdís was surprised that Hrífa wanted such a thing. Shouldn't he prefer his body to be burned? But at least he didn't want to be consumed by people. The red head couldn't trade seats at this point and it would be a fair awkward ride to their shared destiny if Hrífa wanted to be eaten by other people. Deciding silence was the best course she ducked her head and concentrated instead on rowing.</s>	<\|message\|>Mid to late forties "Returning to the world what stuffs I've taken from her," said the Rat-eater. He could not help but let his eyes, softly grey, to percolate upward like from a chimney. Were he nearer to the water, one could imagine him dipping his hand into it, cupping it in his spindly fingers; yes, some day he would return to the sea and to the soil. Even if he only fed worms, those worms would feed birds later, and on it went. Where would he go as a pyre, a pile of smoldering ashes? He would be useless then, except as an ingredient in soapmaking. Anyway, perhaps it was a shout, or the silence which followed, but something helped Hrífa to realize that Hralding had ended his lesson. The witch blinked back to consciousness, and guided the shaft of the oar gently away from his lap, dipping the blade back into the boiling waves. "If anyone needs a pair of mittens, I've brought a spare pair. Let's go," said Hralding, who took his place at the rudder. Besides the fact that Hrífa had brought his own, a thick and well-loved pair that was yellow with the mother sheep's lanolins, he felt like their captain was testing them: the first person to ask for the gloves surely was the weakest on deck, and the one on whom Hralding thenceforth would keep the closest eye. Damn his cleverness! He would have warned Ásdís, if he only knew how nervous she was. Her façade of intrepid bravery had fooled the witch.</s>
<\|description\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed • Late teens-early twenties • Known as a good enough girl Asdis is neither disliked nor particularly welcomed in any circles. There is nothing overly striking or charming about her, her mind sharp enough but by no means brilliant, her smile sweet but not conspicuous, her arm strong but not sturdy. She is easy enough to be near and easy enough to forget or ignore. • Having lived her entire life in the shelter of her family's hearth Asdis knew not much more beyond the fields and her family. But being the youngest she often felt the need to prove herself, that she too could be just as honorable, just as brave as her brothers and sisters afore. And so when the call came out for the young and the women (and the cripples and the old and the ignominious) to take to the ships she gladly obliged. This was her chance after all.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Just as Ásdís was wondering if the old woman had been right, was she abandoning her people to seek glory only for herself? Was she ultimately being selfish and a coward by not staying and helping…? Fjalfar's words had her instantly on her feet. She wanted to be a hero so badly, to be more than just Ásdís , to be more than just a small girl in a family with many girls. Was that so wrong? The grim look of determination in Ásdís' eyes made Adlif feel some relief. Ásdís was clever enough, bold enough. She'd fare well...She'd survive surely and bring honor to her own name. And then the wandering and the wondering would end and his last child would know her place in the world. This might be a fool's mission but that did not mean Ásdís could not find her way. Uncomfortably Adlif nodded in acquiescence to his daughter's wishes, trying to find pride for this choice but finding only misgivings. Uneasily Adlif watched as his daughter strode up to the gaggle of youth and the likes forming around Fjalfar, she was smaller than many, her shoulders and hips narrower, her arms slender in her plain wool dress. Immediately Adlif had the urge to rush forward, to grab Ásdís by the neck and haul her back home. She was too rash! Too young! Too small! She couldn't do this. Grappling with his own insecurities Adlif stood unmoving, braced against the wall. Be reasonable… He told himself. Ásdís was not the youngest nor the smallest. She was a woman grown really, she was no fool. Surely she was over zealous at times and passion gripped her tightly, but his daughter was capable of more than just wandering around the pastures, chatting with the swine… Ásdís herself had none of these worries or doubts. Their great leader asked for heros and she had stepped forward, pride bursting from every pore of her.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Too far away to properly hear the chieftain—though it was something vaguely related to ships and sailing, Hrífa knew—he squinted, as if his hearing and his vision were somehow symbiotic; he leaned back and forth in his seat, trying to look past all the bare heads and skullcaps and bonnets, too. He decided he needed to get closer, and as he stood, he was the second person to do so, after a particular spunky farm-girl. But as there came a third, a fourth, a tenth, and beyond, it struck Hrífa as just mildly odd. I suppose the chieftain needs to speak louder, he thought; look at how many people couldn't hear his speech! Even a few from the front! The chatter of the crowd did not grant the chieftain any boons in that regard, naturally. Hrífa was going to slip along the wall and catch the chieftain's words from a sideline vantage, but as these children and ne'er-do-wells gathered in the center of the mead-hall, near the hearth, he realized he probably ought to fit in. Further, he feared the hound-like bloodthirst of that huskarl, who would suspect him perhaps of trying to get too close. As he joined the crowd he pushed along its side, hoping to be close enough, or else getting up at all was a damned waste, he knew. By happenstance Ásdís acknowledged his presence before he hers, and without having to turn around…</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís initially pleased to have been the first to stand and join the chieftain was now slightly vexed by the press of bodies around her, easing back she found more space and glanced around. A tall man was near her. She didn't recognize him immediately and wondered how that could be, their tribe was not so large as to not know one another, at least by sight. These thoughts did not trouble Ásdís much and she smiled excitedly up at the fellow who, since he was in the queue to join the ship, would be her fellow shipmate. "I am going to make a great warrior!" She proclaimed breathlessly, cheeks hot with a flush and eyes wide. Feeling generous in the moment she added "You will too." and clapped the man, her brother in arms, on the arm.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Hrífa needed a moment to realize the girl was talking to him; he'd seen her face, pretty and just slightly plump, in his sharp peripherals, and as he turned to face her, he blinked. It took much too long to blink, as he squinted his eyes and pried them open again in jagged motions, as if coercing them from his own body. "That's nice!" said the Rat-eater, and she sensed no sarcasm in his enthusiastic reply; nor did he intend any. "Is that what the crowd is about?" He tried to gesture sweepingly around him but found he lacked the room. He only ended up bumping someone in the back, which thankfully this person appeared not to notice; for indeed, they were smashing themselves all up toward the throne like a longship dashed on the rocks jutting from the sea.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís gaped at the man for a moment before a jubilant laugh escaped her. Too loud and too harsh, neighbors turned to glare at the noise but quickly turned away. How could he not know what he was signing up for!? Grinning at the silliness of it all Ásdís ignored the press of bodies forcing her closer and closer to her companions. On the ship they'd be this close anyway; quarters would be tight. "Of course that is what we are lining up for!" She piped eagerly. "Honor! Bravery! A chance to win our names and shields…" She had a dreamy look in those bright round eyes, as if being strapped into a wooden death trap was the finest thing she could ever dream. Adlif had lost track of his daughter for a moment, only a moment. But when he found her again she was socializing with the seiðmann of all people! The damnable girl was too friendly, too trusting! Had she no brain? No wits? "Ásdís!" He shouted above the den, determined to tell her that no daughter of his would consort with a witch. But the dozy redhead was animatedly gesticulating to her companion, pushed closer and closer to the man as the crowd around her compressed. Of her father's cries she heard naught. "Isn't it glorious?" She wanted to know, beaming up at her companion. "I've never left home before…" The smallest frowns curved her lips as a knot of worry gripped Ásdís tightly. But just was quickly as it came it was gone, replaced with good natured enthusiasm. "Have you?"</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "Once or twice," the Rat-eater said. "There are lots of trees and rocks." He appeared sincerely convinced that this detailed description would be of value to her. He was peering over his shoulder now; if he was not already so drained of his colorful humors, he would have been seen to pale in his epiphany. He had realized, at last, that as he stood, in his current predicament, he was volunteering to become a raider, and to earn oníðingr status through blood, steel, and the salt of the crooning sea. Strangely this prospect did not excite him much—mayhap he had acclimated to hermeticism, and in fact had grown quite fond of all the privacy and silence he commanded all for himself—but as he tried to push back through the crowd, he found that he could not. "Oh—oh, dear." The people behind him prevented his escape. Like a finger-trap toy, he could enter but not leave, not without great struggle. And suddenly it was already too late to leave, for Fjalfar had thrown out his arms in a great embrace for all his saviors. "Today the ship is packed and loaded. Tomorrow she raises her sail, and embarks for the kingdom of the Franks!" Probably too few people cheered, clapped, and otherwise celebrated for Ásdís' tastes; for Hrífa it was far too many. The cruel reality had struck him that he just made an oath, and to break it might earn him a proper outlawry, ousted from his little home in the woods, driven away from all his animal friends! As most of the crowds left, the heroes were ordered to stay, and meet their new captain. "Well, I was good with a spear once," Hrífa said to his new friend. His smile was not very assuring, but he clearly seemed eager to take his situation in stride.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Adlif shifted uncomfortably on his feet as the rest of the people started filtering out of the mead-house. It was expected he would as well. If he stayed and warned Ásdís off her current companion the contrary creature was likely to disobey him purely to prove she could. If he left, and let her learn on her own the erroneous nature of her choices… But it was not in her father to just let his child walk alongside unsavory characters such as the witch… The crowds pulled and pushed until Adlif gave in and went with the tides of people training out of the hall. His daughter would not leave today. He still had time to tell her. Blissfully oblivious to her companion's distress Ásdís was glad the bystanders would be leaving. She could meet their captain and make a good impression, show him she'd be a strong arm given the proper tutelage. It did strike her as odd that the tall man was ONCE good with a spear but considered himself no longer able… For the first time she really looked at the man. He was tall to be sure, but of a more lanky set than most men she knew. His clothes sat oddly on his frame and while Ásdís wouldn't think them dirty, neither would she think them clean. She hadn't seen him limping but then she hadn't seen his approach...Perhaps he was one of the ill or crippled joining the crew? "If you were once handy then you shall be again!" She proclaimed assuredly. "I am Ásdís Bright Eyes. I will help you regain your renown with the spear…" Her eyes narrowed in wicked humor "And you will help me distinguish between the rocks and the trees…" Her confidence while misguided was apparent, and while she barely could handle a spear with any particular effect Ásdís felt no fear of the unknown. At least not at this very moment. Perhaps a foolish trait for a girl barely into womanhood to have, but then Ásdís had never been considered particularly wise.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "All right. Looks like it's time to go," said the man, looking around as the people diffused away. He did not need her approval or her permission; he started walking to the exit even before she noticed and tried to catch up. "Wait!" she said. "Didn't you hear him? We're supposed to stay, and—!" Hrífa had swiveled on his heels, scanning the room once more. He shrugged. "I reckon we'll get more than enough of him once we're on a boat with him. Right?" And so he appeared to vanish; of course. Because Ásdís fancied herself a good girl, now a loyal and obedient soldier, she knew she had to stay, whether she wanted to or not. Yet eagerness nonetheless continued to imbue her actions. So she stayed, and Hrífa was gone behind the doors of the mead-hall. Outside there were parents waiting, women armed with hugs and kisses and men with their shirts of mail, their helmets polished to a mirror sheen. If they were wealthier men they offered their adventurous relatives swords, seaxes, and good axes; if poor, these children and undesirables could only afford to take their wood axes, their sickles, and their pitchforks. Inside, meanwhile, the last man in the mead-hall who was not plagued by níþ or by old festered wounds had stayed behind, leaning cockily against the throne still warm with Fjalfar's scent. Tall, strong, and beautifully blond, with his hair and beard done up in elaborate death-braids, he was Hralding, their new ship-captain.</s>	<\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís watched as the tall man disappeared, he hadn't even introduced himself, in disbelief. Where could he want to be that was more important than being here? Now? This hall, meeting the captain. This was her destiny surely! She'd meet it head on. Turning to see the captain she recognized him immediately. Of course Ásdís had never had reason to approach Hralding, let alone speak to him, but he was easily identifiable. Tall, broad, fair, ice in his veins or so she had heard the other warriors say. He was an accomplished man and Ásdís found herself lingering at the back of the pack, watchful as Hralding considered his new crew. Was he amused by the lot? Angered? Hopeful? Ásdís could not tell, his expression too guarded and hidden from view for her to guess at his thoughts. Surely this was no small task to be under taking, but that didn't mean he wasn't excited by it all. Ice blue eyes fell over her and Ásdís could feel a blush covering her cheeks, green eyes meeting the icy stare of their leader for a moment longer than they ought to have before she dropped her gaze to the ground. Her stomach fluttered nervously and the redhead frowned. She was a warrior! Not some fickle maiden turned to puddles by some man's gaze. Straightening her back Ásdís told herself firmly to look up, chin up. She belonged here. Out beyond the hall Adlif was making his way slowly back to the farm, weary with the days events, with the knowledge that his daughter would be leaving at first light. His gaze was fixed on the path before him when the tone of the villagers behind him changed. Murmurs and whispers took on an accusatory tone. Adlif turned to see what had changed his peers and saw the witch shuffling out of the mead hall. The coward was not even staying to meet the captain. Ásdís' father straightened, and turned to intercept the witch. "What were you doing with Ásdís?" He wanted to know, his tone sharp and displeased.</s>
<\|description\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed • Late teens-early twenties • Known as a good enough girl Asdis is neither disliked nor particularly welcomed in any circles. There is nothing overly striking or charming about her, her mind sharp enough but by no means brilliant, her smile sweet but not conspicuous, her arm strong but not sturdy. She is easy enough to be near and easy enough to forget or ignore. • Having lived her entire life in the shelter of her family's hearth Asdis knew not much more beyond the fields and her family. But being the youngest she often felt the need to prove herself, that she too could be just as honorable, just as brave as her brothers and sisters afore. And so when the call came out for the young and the women (and the cripples and the old and the ignominious) to take to the ships she gladly obliged. This was her chance after all.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Sea-Arrow. Ásdís loved it! Shift and deadly, cutting through the water, not sailing but flying. And an arrow had a bit of grace to it, not as a sword or axe with their brute force but instead a thing of precision and delicate skill. One time when her father had been too far into his drinks the red head had overheard her mother confiding in another wife that she rather fancied she was better with a bow and arrow than Adlif was. "I exactly plan out each meal, each stich, each day. Whereas he plans out only as far as the next thing that needs tending to in front of him. How can you be a good shot when you cannot see long distances?" The other wife had chortled and agreed, regaling Ásdís' mother with a story of her own husbands foolery, but she had never forgotten the gleam of pride in her mother's eye at finally admitting her superiority over her husband in this field. Sighing wistfully at the memory Ásdís settled in her own spot beside the Rat Eater. She was a bit worried that he was so…Unclean but he looked more able to pull an oar than the few seats left besides small runty boys, and less likely to try to distract her with conversation as the more seasoned men with space besides them. Glancing over to the Rat eater in question Ásdís studied his new addition with some approval. The painting was very fine. "A lovely shield…" She complimented before reaching to take the oar, testing her grip. The wood was solid but rough. Her hands were used to gardening and farm work, it wasn't as if Ásdís was a milk softened maiden… Still she knew her hands would not hold up well. Would it be shameful to make gloves and wear them? Shouldn't she push through the pain? Be glad of the new blisters? Wear them as badges of her effort and merit?</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "I like it too," Hrífa said, his bosom puffing partridge-proud. Though he did not take it particularly as a compliment; after all, it was not his handiwork. He did not craft this fine shield, nor any of its parts. He was quick to hang it by its guige from the wale, and others prepared their stations similarly, squirreling their weapons and mail shirts away underneath their benches, and their shields upon the ship's wide walls. It was filling up. Looking over his shoulder, Hrífa was pleased that, although most their "soldiers" were rather too thin, and a rare few sported distinctly feminine curves underneath their thick wintry clothes, none carried their criminality on their sleeves! Through their tattoos, their bone charms and copper runes, their sex and their station, he could only speculate as to their crimes; they deceived his eyes, appearing to him as normal as he. Of course, he had been warned, and by the chieftain's speech, no less, about this queer little dread which rattled at the back of his mind. Indeed, because Hrífa knew that some of these men and boys were sure to be outlaws, and níðingar, and drunkards and second sons and his fellow witches, subconsciously, down in his frail little heart, he wondered which men he could trust, and which would attempt to steal his salted fish. The Rat-eater had noticed as the crowds gathered at the shore that nothing had been stolen from the ship, but he recognized that this was not a purity of spirit which stayed men's hands, but rather, their fear of retribution. The village, and its broad-shouldered king, surely would not have tolerated such a transgression as that, in their urgent hour. While Hrífa pulled his oar out from beneath the benches, and petitioned Ásdís to help, Hralding meanwhile continued to sieve through the growing crew, searching for that man who was the most skilled and experienced among them, the man who would bear the great burden of helping him to raise and lower the Sjórheror's single sail. It was rolled up at that time, but with enough finesse and care poured into its handling, they could ride not the waves, but the winds, and spare themselves the callus-building drudgery or rowing for many pleasant hours. Suddenly the gangplank had been yanked away, threatening to fall overboard as it was pulled upon the deck. Hralding was not moved by the dejected and crestfallen faces of those on dry land who had been too late to cross it; neither did he acknowledge the worries and woes of the crew's families onshore. In fact he seemed to nothing nothing but his crew, and their instruments of war. "I'm not one for long speeches," he growled. "So turn to our left, and remember what you see. When your hands sting with salt and splinters, and your arms burn, and you're ready to give up—" he swept his arm out toward the village— "I want these to be the faces you remember. These are the people you are failing if you give up! All right. Let's get this ship moving."</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís turned obligingly to the left as she peered across the shore. Her own parents had not attended having said goodbye to their smallest daughter the night before. The redhead took this as a sign in their belief that she would succeed and turned away with a security in herself. A child would always believe she could be fruitful if only her parents told her so. For they knew much more than herself and how could they be wrong? Their assurance in her great deeds to come more premonition than hopeful wishing. Turning back to her companion the rush of confidence she felt was faltering already and they hadn't even left the beach line. "Do you think the splinters will be particularly bad?" She asked trying for light and teasing and falling short. More concerned and uncertain. The bright smile on her young face was at odds with the furrowing of her brow and the sidelong glances to their noble leader. His speed had indeed been short. It was always daunting when your day dreams were not being met. Of course Ásdís had always thought of the riveting speeches she'd give and receive. Sighing she tugged on the oar at the command to get the ship moving. Even with the witch at her side the motion was unfamiliar and tentative under her hands. Too much pressure and she was yanking the wood awkwardly against her companion, not enough and the oar was not really moving in time with it's companions. Soon Ásdís was consumed with the task and doing her best to perfect her technique while shooting furtive glances at Hralding in order to ensure he didn't know how terrible an oarsman she was. For Now. Ásdís assured herself shoving the plank away from herself and bumping elbows with Rat Eater. She'd improve, surely!</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties The ship was pushed off the dock by the people on that side of the ship, which was crudely and haphazardly rowed out a few hundred meters. Hralding dropped anchor, and began to speak to the crew about the fine art of carving speed from the waves with these their wooden chisels; he explained that everyone needed to row in unison, totally synchronized and harmonious to each other. He began to teach them their first rowing song, which would help them keep the beat with each other as they sang it. The lyrics regarded a man who, knowing that his lord was wanted by the king for crimes unpunished, cut off his lord's head and delivered it to his king, and then had his own head cut off for treason against his leader. Both men's heads were hung beside each other from the same city gate. Some of the sailors knew the song already, and their eyes glazed over as the novices caught up to their expertise. "It stops hurting after a week or two," Hrífa had said, though his own eyes had turned glassy long before these harangues began. He already knew how to sail, so he stared out disinterestedly over the vast, limitless horizon, wondering how far away was the edge of the world, and hoping perhaps to see a family of puffins darting around the rocks. Almost instinctively he rubbed his fingers together, and though he wore wool mittens, he knew his calluses had faded away long ago. He, too, would hurt. But it was a strangely soothing pain, a pain which spoke of the ship's progress. When a rower's hands seemed bitten by frost and friction, he knew he had worked hard that day. They were badges of honor, those patches of toughened skin. Nevertheless he hoped for a blessing. His oar was to be rowed by a young girl; and though he was a man, he was a scrawny one, withered away in his solitude. Hrífa hoped the ship would not lean with their weakness. He looked behind himself again, wondering if their half of the crew would compensate. The wind felt good and strong but for their sail to capture it, and bloat with its whispers, its direction would need to shift westward a time.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís had heard the song once or twice before but never in detail or length and never for the purpose of learning it herself. While the red head had a good memory and enjoyed singing as much as the next lass, the story itself was gruesome (albeit fair) and had Ásdís cringing from time to time as she fumbled over the words. If she were beheaded for being disloyal to her lord and yet loyal to her King Ásdís would at least hope her head wouldn't be set next to that of the person she had killed. And what a funny thought that was… How could someone at once be loyal and disloyal? Didn't that argue the definition of loyalty? And had the man been Loyal to himself? Loyal to his morals and codes? Did that even matter? Ásdís shook her head trying to clear it of such unusual and deep thoughts. What did it matter?! She was not in that position and likeliness was she'd never be, so why ponder uselessly after something that would never come to be? Disturbed by her bleak wonderings she was actually glad the rat eater had spoken, sharply looking over at him. Her hopes died quickly. But perhaps she could draw him into conversation…? "Oh good. It's not that I'm so vain or afraid of pain, so much as I am concerned the blisters would lessen my competency." Flushing at this she hurried to clarify. "Not that I won't work through the pain. I'll be an excellent rowing partner don't you worry…" Ásdís sighed as the boat rocked with a wave. Not out of the harbor and she was already behaving foolishly. Turning her green eyes to her companion she smiled forlornly. "Do you think if you were beheaded as the man in the song was, would you like your head to be placed beside that of your previous ruler who you beheaded yourself?"</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Though he gave her a queer, sidelong glance, hurriedly Hrífa searched elsewhere for his answer, away in the distant clouds. If he was honest, he was searching for birds again. "Once my head has been cut, I probably won't much mind what happens to my body," he confessed in a hushed whisper, as though Hralding was on the other side of the ship, at the aft, steering the rudder, the witch saw no cause to disrupt his lessons. "If I do, I'd like to see it eaten." "By animals," he added clumsily, as if that was in doubt. But why not? Every tree-nut he ever ground to flour may have belonged to a mouse, who fancied the gaunt intruder rather like a towering thief likewise! Then all his life he had breathed air which belonged to terns and gulls, and gulped water which was the house of many fish. He was remorseless and really rather selfish in his taking of those things which his physiology demanded—unapologetic—but this came too with the stipulation of debt. Some day he hoped to return to the earth what he had borrowed, and rotting in a tomb, this was not possible; hanging from a king's gate, he was out of reach for all things but the ravens. He did not fancy that fate fair and just to the other critters who held him in their debt, the others he owed a pound of his flesh. What he loved about this place he called nature, and all its inhabitants, was that it obeyed its own laws, and these laws cared not for the whimsies of men, as men were encapsulated within these laws, and they too obeyed this code, even when they thought they rebelled against nature by erecting walls and hiding behind them, building keeps high into the sky to escape the floods, and pits deep in the earth to avoid the winds. Men's laws were just different. Hrífa obeyed them (most times) despite disagreeing with them; he knew well why Håkon deserved death at the hands of Þormóðr Karkr, and why the slave in turn was deemed a traitor: the dishonor of his treachery outweighed the heroics of his vigilantism. But who was a man to declare who "deserved" what? Who owned that infallible right to deliver his fellows to the afterlife? The world claimed its dues without fretting for these highfalutin abstracts, often enough. Supposedly wicked men lived and supposedly good ones fell like birch limbs to wicked axes. But eventually all men paid the same debt, and the witch, while not anticipating his day with any enthusiasm, also did not fear the time when his caught up with him. He would pay it gladly.</s>	<\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed "Eaten?" Ásdís repeated uncertainly. She hadn't much thought of her own death, it was foretold and it would happen when it would. So she hadn't considered much either what would happen to her remains. Now that she thought of it Ásdís was surprised that Hrífa wanted such a thing. Shouldn't he prefer his body to be burned? But at least he didn't want to be consumed by people. The red head couldn't trade seats at this point and it would be a fair awkward ride to their shared destiny if Hrífa wanted to be eaten by other people. Deciding silence was the best course she ducked her head and concentrated instead on rowing.</s>
<\|description\|>Nariah Stormblade Wears a full suit of armor and a helm. And her eyes are actually ice blue. Age: 22 Class: Warrior Skills: Swordplay, blocking, heavy armor, knows some blacksmithing and cooking Personality: She's a rather plucky kind of girl with the determined heart of a true warrior. Nariah stays dedicated to her cause and will fight tooth and nail to defend those she loves and holds dear to her. A bit challenged by her lack of knowledge (yes, she's a bit dumb), she tends to be folly when it comes to thinking logically, but that's not to say she is a complete idiot. What Nariah lacks in knowledge, she makes up for in bravery and compassion from the very depths of her heart. just like any rough and tumble warrior, she loves a good drink as much as she loves a good fight Brief Bio: Born in the snowy and pine covered mountain village of Dunenmer Hollow, Nariah was the daughter of Harken Stormblade, a former adventurer and the village's most esteemed blacksmith. She was a peculiar young lass. Her father would astound and amaze her greatly with tales of his many travels and endeavors, how he fought fearsome beasts and traversed vast and magical realms in his early days. So enthralled was the girl by the yearning for adventure, she would spend her many hours in the surrounding forests, swinging about a stick to the trees as if they were also terrifying monsters being slain by her sharp and powerful blade. Harken was amused by it, but he also saw that very spark in his daughter's eye that he once held, though he was fearful to let his only flesh and blood venture from the village. Nevertheless, he taught Nariah over the years all that he knew of being an adventurer, how to fight and defend herself should the need arise, and when it was best to retreat from battle. Nariah soon became a competent swordswoman under her father's guidance, and not to mention a proficient blacksmith herself, but still the man was afraid to let his daughter go. No matter how much Nariah persisted incessantly on her father letting her leave the village, Harken always gave her the same lecture, Ye are my only kin, and I am not going to let ye run off into danger, Nariah. Ye still have much to learn before I ever let ye venture from Dunenmer alone. The world is a far more sinister place, daughter. Having just a sword alone will not protect you." It was difficult for Nariah to grasp what her father meant, blame it on her whimsical mind, yet she understood one thing….her father still saw her as a young girl. But dammit, she could fight. She knew the way of the sword and the shield, but her father was just too damn stubborn to let her go. Sooner or later, the old man would have to. How else would Nariah learn to grow? Soon came the day a dreadful earthquake, with such rancorous horror, rattled violently the grounds about the quaint hollow and destroyed many homes. Blessed Tha'agorn no lives were lost in the chaos, but it was certain this was no ordinary tremor, neither was it the hammer of the mighty god of the forge crashing down upon the land. This was spawned of a great and immeasurable evil indeed so. The villagers, they feared for their lives and for those of their kin. Someone must venture out to the source of this madness and deal with it, they said, but Harken, in his gray age could not. It was just as Harken had feared, the burden had fallen...upon Nariah, as did the letter proclaim. Before he sent his daughter off with all of his love and his blessings, he forged for Nariah a sword and shield, worthy of even the finest warrior of the land, and he also crafted a suit of armor for her, and last but not least, a beautiful pendant which the village elder blessed with a protection spell. Finally, he said his goodbyes to his daughter. "Ye be safe now, and be sure to come back and see ye old man, ye hear me daughter?" Heartily he chuckled hugging tight his child, now a full grown woman and the most competent warrior of their village. She had a long journey ahead of her, and the challenges she faced were sure to be harrowing, but nevertheless, Nariah would face them head-on, for the sake of her village and....for the sake of her father. "Aye. I will father." She replied happily embracing the stout, old man. "I'll be sure to send word of me travels as well. Goodbye father." "Goodbye, me daughter....and Tha'agorn keep you safe." Weapon(s): A longsword and shield forged by her father. She also carries a small war axe as a backup. Equipment: A pendant of protection also forged for her by her father. She wears it at all times. She also carries a flask of mead and a whetstone for sharpening her sword. Also a blacksmithing hammer should the need arise. For the cold, she has a pelt made of wolf fur. Theme Music: Theme 1, Theme 2 Approved by the wonderful GMS @Ineffable & @Cloudystar</s> <\|message\|>Nariah Stormblade Hook, line, and sinker Nariah thought. The horned beauty swaggered over to her table, no effort at all hiding the lust in her eyes, and not much partnon Nariah's either, grinning ear to ear as the girl sat down. "Aye, not a problem there, lass!" Nariah chuckled. "Anything fer a lovely wench like ye. Indeed, a strange predicament we're in. Makes me think this whole thing was some crazy dream." A half drunken, lurid grin, she admired the beauty with deep, languid eyes. "So tell me, lass, where do ye and yer pretty friend over there hail from? I bet every gal there is just as lovely as ye two."</s> <\|message\|>Jameson Jameson was surprised by how they took the drinks down like they were just plain water, there's certainly more to these two than he thought. At least it was a sign that his drinks weren't half bad. Jameson flinched as he felt something brushing against his leg and realised that it was Ishia's tail, he looked at her and was greeted by a look that was quite familiar to him while passing through brothels in his travels. He shrugged it off with an innocent smile and rested his back on the chair, "Welcoming caves aren't exactly the most cozy" he thought to himself and chuckled. He heard Miya talking to him and turned towards her, "Miya is it? Quite a friend you've got there. I'm Jameson, don't mean to be rude but I take it that you're both not human?"</s> <\|message\|>Jameson [DELETED]</s> <\|message\|>Jack Grimn Jack groaned and stumbled through a portal. He had a cut directly above his left eye and a large gash on his forehead which he unsuccessfully tried to cover with the hood of his jacket. He sat down at the nearest table and took a roll of bandages. He wrapped it around his forehead and left eye. He raised his arm. "Could I get a bit of stew?" He unslung his quiver of arrows and leaned back in his chair.</s> <\|message\|>Ishia Narin ~Miya~ --- "Saika Miyano is my full name, But please, Miya will do fine." Her voice took a slightly strained sounding tone towards the end of the sentence, when she was asked a second question. Well, if the two small pointed horns on her forehead and by Ishia's tail and scales were anything to go by, they were definitely not. Not that it was particularly an issue...at least, it hadn't been in a while. Not since being exiled. She paused for a moment, trying to think of a way to approach this topic carefully and not work herself up too much over it. Taking another drink of what had been brought, she calmed herself. "Yes...I am an Oni," The blue-clad warrior didn't elaborate much more on that. There wasn't any need to give him more than was needed. He could ask Ishia for a story any time. "And Ishia is a beast-kin. That is not going to be a problem, is it?" As she sat the mug back down on the table, her tone took a slightly darker one towards the end of the question as she awaited a reply. This wasn't the empire, so she didn't particularly expect to face racism here, but she couldn't be too careful. ~Ishia~ --- Wench, eh? It had been awhile since she had been called that. Not that she minded of course. No need to get angry at being called something that you were. And she was about as much of a wench as wenches come. More importantly, the ravishing, strong lady across from her just asked her a rather interesting question. "Haa...Zin?" She slowly began, with a lazy sigh. Honestly, Ishia wanted to almost skip the small talk and get to the fun bits right there, but a little bit of foreplay never hurt. Besides, sharing a story with a pleasant and attractive stranger was always fun. Ishia leaned forward, resting her arms on the table with a chuckle. "Well, they certainly are pretty," Ishia started, dull blue eyes giving Nariah a half-lidded, lurid stare before continuing in a husky tone. "But heh, nothin' can compare to a Zin sunset during winter. With some Icefire Sake, a gentle snow and a cool breeze...haa, prettiest sight I ever saw." Off topic a bit? Definitely, but it was hard not to talk about things she had seen sometimes in her travels, and being slightly drunk and wanting to either ravish or be ravished by, the woman in front of her didn't make much of a difference. "Except maybe the strong lookin' woman in front of me," She chuckled playfully. She downed the last of the drink that had been brought for her. "That brought me the best present since miss ornery over there cut me off...I could go for another one, heh." Well, if anything Ishia wasn't known for her subtlety. "Wanna buy me another?"</s> <\|message\|>Quinton Ram Quinton --- Before Quinton goes to the newcomer he taps Jameson on the shoulder to give his warning. "A little warning before you do another rash thing. Never. Touch. Objects behind the bar without permission. There are other alcohols that seem familiar to whisky but are much stronger than your average drink. Therefore never do something like that again, otherwise I'll be forced to ask you to go attend another section of the Cafe far from the bar. I hope you all enjoy your time here and if you require aid, call for me." Quinton says that last part to everyone as he does one last bow. The Butler goes over to the new archer person and bows. He leaves for a moment to go quickly prefer a warm and above average soup for him to eat. Swiftl bringing it back, he bows once more to place it down. [color=lightsalmon]"Here you go sir, the name is Quinton. Welcome to the Cafe and I hope you enjoy your stay." @DriveEMOut@xChrome@Rusalka</s>	<\|message\|>Nariah Stormblade Nariah took another swig of her mug, feeling quite a buzz off the honey and hard liquor. She couldn't keep her eyes off the lovely dame before her, a smarmy grin with cheeks blushing bright. Hell, if anything she was practically undressing Ishia with her lurid gaze. "Aye, a pretty sight indeed, lass!" She gave a hearty chuckle, blushing even more at the beauty charming her with that silver tongue. Imagine what other things it could do. "But ye haven't lived till ye've seen the sunset from Chillrend Peak in the far north! Now there's a sight! A roaring fire and warm honey mead under those big red skies! Aye...brings back memories." Nariah sighed rather nostalgic, her smile faltering a bit before the lass asked for another round. Nariah perked up again in a roaring laugh, "Why sure, lass! Anything, for ye. However..." Her smirk turned quite suggestive to Ishia, gazing into those beautiful, shimmering eyes of hers, "I think yer lookin' fer more than a little whiskey hmm?" Nariah waggled her eyebrows scooting a little closer. This pretty sultry lass had her from the start.</s>
<\|description\|>Brunhilde Vigmundsdóttir Race: Human; Nordic. Occupation: Wind Elementalist. Problem solver for hire. Age: 27 Appearance: Brunhilde is tiny. Not quite dwarf-scale, but extremely small nonetheless, standing at 4'10" and weighing roughly 80 lbs. unladen. Her ice blue eyes appear to be somewhat unfocused, as if she's looking through the world instead of at it. Shortish auburn hair sits atop her head, clearly fairly recently trimmed - though not particularly well. She doesn't appear to take much care of her appearance beyond basic cleanliness, which suits her just fine. Her figure is mostly obscured by an incomplete patchwork set of leather armor and a thick steel gorget - all of which are damaged by deep scratches and burns. Beneath the armor is a simple set of late medieval style clothing as is the style in her homeland. When not wearing gloves, a faded tattoo is visible on the back of each hand - a message atop a white spiral. The left states, "I have amnesia.", and the right states, "Check the journal." Speaking of journals - she carries an enormous book in her left arm at almost all times. The cover is plated with thick steel, embossed with her name and the year of the first entry. A blank space is left for entering the year of the final entry, when the journal is eventually filled. Gender: Female Background/History: Brunhilde is from an island to the far north, somewhere between Greenland and Nunavut. The total population of the island was under a thousand, and despite being a Danish province according to their history books, they have neither been taxed nor acknowledged by Denmark for several hundreds of years, and the assumption is that they were forgotten shortly after colonization. The population is a mixture of Danes and Inuit. Her childhood was a good one, if a strange one by modern standards, as limited communication with the rest of the world has given access to both modern technology and a lack of access to modern culture and building techniques. As such, her hometown governed itself not unlike a medieval city-state. Her own home was a patch of farmland just a couple miles away from the main village, and her family raised Highland cattle with the help of some local assistants - not all of whom were competent. At 6, she manifested elemental manipulation skills, and her family, fearing ostracization and persecution by the locals, sent her to take martial arts lessons from the only self defense teacher on the island. She dropped out of the class some months before the exam to receive the equivalent of a black belt, out of lack of interest. At 10, she was struck in the head by a rampaging cow while working in the field. One of the farmhands had consistently failed to identify the symptoms of mad cow disease for months, and the condition of the cow had been unknown. Miraculously, Brunhilde survived having her skull cratered by a large animal, but she didn't fully recover - her hypothalamus, pituitary gland, and oculomotor nerves were damaged to varying degrees, with light damage to the entire rest of the front and midbrain. She lost the ability to form new episodic memory, and human growth hormone secretions were severely limited. Her family was, despite being predominantly made up of farmers, able to afford treatment by a psychologist and a neurologist, which eased her transition into her new life with the help of an autobiographical journal. At 17, her nature as an elementalist was discovered by the locals, and she was tried as a witch. In the absence of any other crimes committed, she was sentenced not to imprisonment or execution, but to banishment - and was sent by her family to the only place known to accept people with such magical abilities. For three years she stayed at what was only referred to as The Academy, studying under headmaster Kano Hargor's staff with the intent of attaining full control of her skills as an air manipulator. Her memory difficulties made it troublesome to remember the results of lessons and homework, but friends at the Academy helped keep her moving forwards. Much of the training was with the intention of handling the ever increasing threat of Elementals, which had begun to leak into the physical plane to cause mayhem. After her departure from the Academy, she spent much of her time wandering from place to place, 'dealing with' elementals of various sorts. At 24, she met a strange man who appeared to have fallen out of time itself: Arturo da Venezia. A mute, Arturo was initially difficult to understand, but eventually they discovered that they shared a love of writing and art. Arturo himself was effectively an apprentice wizard, or so he claimed - and his own magical skills appeared to back up his claim. He decided to make himself useful as Brunhilde's aide and apprentice, despite not being of the same families of sorcery. At 25 through late 26, Brunhilde's brain damage had finally repaired itself sufficiently to almost function correctly. Brunhilde is still extremely forgetful and somewhat absent-minded, but her ability to remember people has returned in full, and major events stick with her again. She is, midway through 27, still trying to adjust to not having to reread every journal entry for a week to be able to know basic information about where and when she is. Likes: The sciences. Anatomy and physics in particular - the spaces in her journal which aren't dedicated to biography are dedicated to detailed artwork of her observations and her inventions, none of which have ever been successfully constructed to this date. Races. Quiet. Food. Beef especially. Fighting equal opponents. Dislikes: Cattle. Fuck cattle. She despises cattle to her core, though this hatred is irrational and she knows it. Neglectful animal owners. Having to defend herself against sentient creatures. Skills: Atmospheric manipulation in general. Her focus is mostly on macromanipulation, but she also is knowledgeable in manipulation of individual molecules. For the most part, her elemental manipulation is limited to natural Earthborne atmospheric gases. Water, technically being a simple mixture of oxygen and hydrogen, should be possible to manipulate, but attempting to do so has consistently and violently caused rejection. As a near master level Air elementalist, she is capable of supporting up to twenty times her own bodyweight for up to an hour, or her own bodyweight indefinitely. Her range of finer manipulation - predominantly offensive tactics - is limited to moving air within fifty meters, or a bit over half of a football field. In somewhat greater depth... She is capable of hovering or flying, though flying takes not-insignificant concentration. Creating large gusts of wind is child's-play to her. Cyclones, pressurized air, localized vacuums, and other such specific motions are easy by this point, though she isn't quite capable of causing anything on the scale of even a small tornado without abusing an alternate energy source. She has, in the past, successfully cloven boulders and trees with precision application of high pressure winds. Her manipulation relies upon either putting energy into the air herself, or on abusing already existing energy in the air. Cold air is harder to move, but hot air - particularly air heated by fire, electricity, or lava - is extremely easy. The hotter, the better. Unlike Arturo, her talents do not require incantations or hand motions or spell components, and can be conjured at will from any point within her sphere of influence on the spur of the moment. Her ability to manipulate the atmosphere partially requires being able to feel the movements of the atmosphere at every point within her sphere of influence. As such, she is able to feel the motions of other things long before she sees them. Her airsense grows duller with distance. Personality: Confident, but not arrogant. Completely oblivious to romantic advances. Terrified of actually killing anybody, but unafraid of defending herself. A little bit on the inconsiderate side sometimes. Easily excited by new discoveries and theories, with a habit of rambling to herself and pacing when exposed to exploitable information. Brunhilde is aware of potential ulterior motives, but tends to be overly trusting nonetheless. She is violently protective of herself, her friends, and her important possessions. Name: Arturo da Venezia Race: Human; Mediterranean. Occupation: Arsonist. 8th level Sorcerer. Age: 25 Appearance: Arturo is enormous. Standing at 6'4" and nearly 300 lbs. of muscle, he would be easy to mistake for a Kodiak bear if it weren't for his lack of fur and snout. His physical features are obscured by his bizarre outfit, though, which appears to be a Fire Proximity suit fashioned vaguely into the shapes and colors of mid-period Italian renaissance garb. The visor on his headwear is difficult to see through, though under intense light, he can be seen to be a relatively attractive man for his bulk, with clean, sharp features and near perfect symmetry. On his back is a fuel tank, with a pressure gauge reading at roughly 160 PSI. The fuel tank's hose leads to a compact flamethrower consisting of a series of tubes and a high capacity battery - indicating that the fuel stream is ignited electrically. Strapped into a back holster next to the napalm thrower is a red and yellow fire axe. Gender: Male Background: Unknown. Doesn't like to tell others about it, and doesn't keep a diary. Allegedly, a wizard was involved in a wicked plot in 16th century Venice, resulting in Arturo's displacement to the current time. Claims to have no family. Brunhilde hasn't ever seen a reason to press him on his past either, considering that she has difficulty remembering her own. Brunhilde discovered him setting fire to a rampaging plant elemental she had been hired to remove from the area outside of Milan, Italy. She was unable to take care of the creature herself before Arturo's flames burnt it to ash. They quickly identified eachother as magic users, and Arturo instinctively knew that this was a person he did not want to try to burn, for his own safety. Instead, he chose to follow her, not thinking to try to start a conversation until after seeing her writing in her journal for the first time - at which point he promptly snatched the book and pen to write 'Hello.' Despite Brunhilde's initial anger at his defilement of the book, the two quickly became friends of a sort, although Brunhilde made it very clear that he was not to intentionally cause any property damage while they traveled together. Arturo promised to keep his pyromania in check on the condition that Brunhilde promised to teach him how to use his limited magic skills. Despite her inability to advise him on his style of sorcery, she has been able to guide him in his attempts to discover his own talents. Likes: Fire. Dislikes: No fire. Skills: He is not yet able to adequately sustain his predominantly fire-based magics as a Sorcerer, so he supplements with a flamethrower and an axe. His fuel of choice is an extremely hot-burning variant of napalm, the formula to which is known only to him. Finely powdered elemental Magnesium is suspected to be a primary ingredient, judging by the sparks present and the extremely bright flames. He is not a fast runner, which he generally works around in combat these days via his twice-daily potential usage of Dimension Door. Current spell list: 0 (∞): Create Bonfire, Mending, Fire Bolt, Control Flames, Prestidigitation 1 (4): Burning Hands, Shield 2 (3): Aganazzar's Scorcher, Pyrotechnics, See Invisibility, Detect Thoughts 3 (3): Fireball 4 (2): Wall of Fire, Dimension Door Personality: He keeps his inner thoughts hidden, and his facial expressions are obscured by the visor. However, he seems to be very protective of Brunhilde. He also seems to consider most other people to be little more than kindling, with the exception of those he knows for a fact can and will put him down if he tries. When let off his leash, he quickly begins setting fire to everything in sight, and requires the intervention of someone he respects to avoid burning down half the city or otherwise getting himself killed. Thankfully, nobody is usually stupid enough to give him permission to go wild. To keep his pyromania in check, he plays with lighters or candles when he has the chance. App approved by @cloudystar~</s> <\|message\|>Brunhilde Vigmundsdóttir The large pyromancer simply shrugs and lets himself in, nodding at the offer of water. He doesn't indicate that he wants much of anything else, but rather, points to Brunhilde and pantomimes speaking with his free hand as though it's her job to do the talking. There's no reaction to the quick wipedown. A glance around the room reveals some other patrons lounging and standing about, as well as a healthy number of empty tables and chairs. Arturo hastily walks over to a seat and dumps Brunhilde's unconscious body into it. He, however, stays standing.</s> <\|message\|>Quinton Ram Quinton --- Quinton nods his head and heads over to the bar to quickly retrieve a glass of water. He brings it over to the large silent man and does a polite bow as he sets it in front of him. Then he looks at the very small lady and tilts his head curiously. Without hesitation, he does a quick body check-up to check her condition. Going rather quickly over the check-up so she or her friend wouldn't be too disturbed with Quinton putting his hands on her, he goes back to the side of the bar to make a quick brew of sorts. This brew wasn't meant for drinking but thanks to the chemicals put inside it, it was known to wake someone up from exhaustion or knocked out. Gently edging it underneath her nose, he waits patiently for her to wake up. "Sorry for doing this without your permission sir, I as a gentleman cannot leave a woman in distress such as your friend here unconscious at a bar. If I was unable to pay attention or yourself, who knows what kind of villain would take her away? Best if she wakes up now and catches a good understanding of her current situation at least before going into rest." (@Azereiah)</s>	<\|message\|>Brunhilde Vigmundsdóttir Arturo takes the water and, while Quinton is preparing the brew, swiftly dumps it on Brunhilde's head to wake her up. It doesn't work, and now Brunhilde is unconscious and soaked, rather than just unconscious. Arturo lightly slaps her as a last ditch effort to awaken her, and is rewarded with a reflexive kick to the shin. He groans in frustration and hops over to the seat across the table when Quinton returns. The Butler uses quite a few fancy words, which Arturo likes, though he doesn't completely understand everything. Quinton seems to him to be competent enough, and he allows him to try to treat Brunhilde. The fumes from the concoction jolt Brunhilde awake some ten seconds after initial exposure. She almost falls out of the seat the instant she awakens. The scent of smoke hits her again, and she thrusts all oxygen away from her body instinctively to smother the nonexistant fire, almost losing consciousness again in the process. Being out for a few minutes hasn't exactly done her much good, it seems. The air remixes itself again as she gasps for breath. She looks to Arturo, who isn't exactly the best communicator. She then looks to Quinton and identifies the smell of ammonium carbonate emanating from the glass in his hand, which she assumes brought her back to consciousness. "Thanks. I think. Where are we, and who are you?"</s>
<\|description\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) Age: 28 Class: Fighter/Captain Gender: Male Race: Human Appearance: Raikon is a tall, well built man. Standing at 6'2" and weighing 220lbs he is an imposing figure to behold while on the battlefield. His intimidating size is mitigated by a very kind face, constant genuine smile, and expressive green eyes. He has bright red hair cut short on the sides and left slightly longer on top, with side burns that connect to his beard, which is well kept and trimmed. His hands and forearms are marked by a smattering of scars from years of battle, others, more serious, are hidden under his armor and clothing. Character Perk: Optimistic Leader- Raikon tries to see the best in everything, and always finds a ray of hope to guide him. He inspires his comrades to action, providing a resistance to intimidation, fear, and mental spell effects to them and himself. Character Flaw: Sore Loser- When things don't go his way Raikon can have a hard time letting go, often trying to gain victory even when defeat is already assured. Others will have to force him to stand down, even if it means injury or death. ---------- Alignment: Chaotic Good STR: 16 DEX: 12 CON: 14 INT: 10 WIS: 12 CHA: 14 Abilities: Unshakable- Raikon is an experienced veteran and does not lose his composure in the midst of battle. He cannot be flanked unless it is from behind. Quick Draw- Raikon can switch between his weapons and shield almost instantly, never losing a step in battle. Last Stand- If Raikon were to receive a mortal blow, he may take one last offensive action before becoming incapacitated. Skills: Diplomacy (60) Intimidate (20) Sense Motive (60) Perception (40) Survival (20) Spells: Raikon has no inherent magical ability. Armor: Raikon wears a padded undershirt, chainmail armor, and a belted, hard dark leather tunic. His hands are protected by thick leather gloves which match his rough leather boots. Chainmail hosen are held tightly to his legs with strap and belts to maximize mobility and protection. Weapons: His weaponry is varied with a javelin on his back, long shining steel sword strapped to his left hip, and a round steel shield hanging from his right. He also carries two sharp daggers tucked between his weapon belts. Items/Misc: Raikon carries a backpack with various supplies including a 20ft coil of rope, tinder and firebox, maintenance gear such as whet stones and oil, rations and a water skin, thin wire, a bedroll, oiled tarp and waterproof cloak. He also has a collapsible oil lantern and basic medical supplies: A needle, thread, bandages, and herbs to fight back infection. Biography: In the capital city of the kingdom Mejise, in a small two room hut, a young boy with hair like fire learned a very early lesson about life and death. As his father beat his mother senseless on the floor of their shack, a young Raikon Delnai learned that often times there will be no one there to help you, and that sometimes to protect one you must kill another. Raikon took his fathers sword and struck him through the side, instantly killing him and saving his mother. Free of his wickedness, his mother guided Raikon along a path of gentleness, teaching him to use his strength and courage to protect others, and to always be a careful, loving man. The lessons were reforged and refined many times as Raikon grew to adulthood. He joined the military at 16 to protect his mother and city from enemy invasion. The empire of Burena had become greedy, and had lashed out on the independent provinces at her border, intent on gaining land and strength. As the battles went on, the trials of his position forged iron bands around his heart. He proved himself to be a capable warrior and effective leader, eventually gaining the ear of the generals around him. He continued to learn: to command, to inspire. As the war went on from months to years, and it was looking as though it would go on forever, he learned that sometimes it takes only one person standing fast for just a moment longer to make a difference, and that he could be that person. In the final battle for Mejise, his comrades had nearly all fallen to the hands of the Burean military. The few survivors were hiding behind the walls, waiting for the enemy to finish their breach, and storm the final stronghold. Raikon fought along the battlements alone, taking down the enemy archers who had managed to entrench themselves. With the way clear, he descended into the courtyard, and began to barricade the final door alone. It wouldn't have been enough, but his courage inspired those around him, and more men felt the fire relight in their hearts. They continued fighting the enemy off until, finally, Burena retreated and the castle held. The tide had turned, and a year later the war was won. Raikon had aged into a fine commander, and under his leadership Mejise rebuilt their fortifications, reworked alliances, and found a time of safety once again. But it wasn't long before Burena became hungry once more. With the enemy military mobilizing, Raikon and a small band of like minded mercenaries came together, marching to offer their services to defend the independent nations of the free Eastern lands.</s> <\|message\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) The large man unconscious to the left of the door was the first to stir. He groaned quietly, his voice muffled by the soft moss his face rested against. His eyes fluttered open slowly, and he groaned again rolling first onto his side, and then his back. He raised a large gloved hand to blot the sun from his eyes, and frowned quizzically. He didn't recognize this place. Raikon slowly raised into a sitting position, resting his weight on one arm, the other hand still blocking the sun from his sleep filled eyes. "Joshua? Hector?" His voice was thick in his throat, and quiet. He coughed into his hand, squinting into the sunlight, and looks around once more. He remembered they were celebrating. Many of them, Joshua, Hector, Kayle, his whole band had been there. They had just received word of the full retreat of all Burean forces from the peninsula, and Alcuin had been kept free of their grasp. They had been fighting for three weeks with almost no rest, their morale had dwindled to a candle flame. But they outlasted the enemy and had prevented their resupply, allowing for a reprieve, and a chance to bolster their defenses to prevent another attack. The celebration was fierce and well earned. Friends had been lost, and many of his comrades had held their grief until the end. They had a chance to let their emotions flow freely along with the mead. He had drank plenty on his own, and his memories grew hazy as the night went on. But he remembered being carried on a shoulder to his bed in the Gnarled Pine, laughing and swaying and singing. This place was not The Gnarled Pine. He looked at the other bodies on the ground around him and lifted himself to stand on shaky legs. He realized he was still dressed in all of his armor, and his body was sore in many places, screaming at the pressure points from the belts and gear strapped to his chest and hips. He could tell this place was ancient, and his mind swirled trying to recreate the steps he had taken back to the inn. He had made it back to his room, hadn't he? Who had helped him back? The back of his head throbbed and he shielded his eyes from the sunlight again, frustrated. He looked at the bodies again. They were breathing, alive, just unconscious or asleep. He didn't recognize them, and started to walk closer to the young blonde man closest to him. He took in the room once more as he crouched down. The building they were in looked ancient. He had seen overgrown ruins before, but nothing like this. The place almost vibrated with a force unknown to him, and he swallowed back his fear. He reached down and grasped the shoulder of the slender man next to him, shaking gently. "Hey, you. Wake up, would you?"</s> <\|message\|>Caspian Fleiyril "-ou. Wake up, would you?" He didn't know that voice, was Caspian's first thought. He had always been a light sleeper, so there was usually no need for someone to go further than a verbal request. Breathing in deeply, he slowly opened his eyes to peer at whoever it was that wanted him awake. His mind was blank then, sleepiness fogging his thoughts. His vision still blurry at first glance, he moved to rub his eyes, coming aware of the the slight soreness all over his body. It was a familiar feeling. It was as if he had slept on hard floor, and his hands pressing upon the hard grounds proved it to be true. It had been awhile since he last slept on something that isn't a bed. Disoriented, he slightly narrowed his eyes confusedly at the unfamiliar larger man before him. Was the man a new companion? In all his life, there was only one person he knew who had red hair. Albeit, his best friend's hair was a tad brighter, almost like fire. At the thought of his friend, he immediately turned to look around him, searching for another red head almost frantically. A small feeling of panic started to blossom deep within when he failed to see anyone he knew at all, like a heartburn he was trying hard to not acknowledge. Moreover, he vividly remembered that they were still in a city then. Kalakyth was a city of smoke and suffocating hot air that distinctly smelled of burning soil, cigar and liquor. It bore absolutely no resemblance to the refreshing green around him. He could almost still taste the awful mead that he spat after taking an experimental sip from his friend's flask. Yes. He had a clear recollection of where and what he was doing. They were in Kalakyth because of a stop over, and their group chose to spent the night in the awful city of dark skies and smokey air over sleeping underneath the stars in the forest miles away. Kalakyth was located in the foot of a mountain that once had thousands of trees, with its incessant mining and pollution. From a distance, it looks like a black splotch. They were walking, he remembered, when he asked to take a sip from his friend's flask. They were leaving the city. What happened then? He knew he could remember if he just thought a lot harder. A place like the one around him was not something they could have found anywhere near Kalakyth. The disgusting men of that city wouldn't have let something as unnaturally pure and fresh go untainted. Caspian tried not to think too deeply, truly. His thoughts were swirling violently into directions he didn't want to it to go, and he was actively avoiding the panic that was surely a layer just beneath his calmness and confusion. Breathe deeply, focus. It wouldn't do well for him to panic. Perhaps he was not in a safe place, perhaps he was. He forcefully brushed it all off, and breathed in deeply as he pushed himself to get up. It was colder, he realized, and he unconsciously tugged on his cloak. He felt around his body to feel if he still had his things. He did. "What is this place?" He asked, his fingers tugging on the neckline of his shirt that felt a bit suffocating - a nervous habit of his. He stood too close to the larger and unfamiliar man, so he nervously took a step back, eyes flickering at the man's appearance. Older, larger and most probably stronger. Bigger people made him nervous. The look on the faces didn't matter. His friends taught him that people with kind faces could merely be better in hiding secrets and trickery. Granted, the men he calls friends trusted no one but the ones in their group only. They made him paranoid, too. "Who are you?" And who are the men around them, and where was he, and just where were his friends? Where was Ni-. He exhaled, thinking about the fact that he shouldn't dwell on things that aren't currently in the present. The first thing was that he should look for familiar things, but nothing seemed familiar at the moment because he was still trying to clear his mind. Nothing was familiar and it didn't make sense.</s>	<\|message\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) Raikon let the slender man look around and get his bearings, and took the chance to look him over. He didn't appear injured, or to know anything about this... temple, or whatever it was; that or he was a decent actor. He was armed with a dagger, wore simple clothes. He didn't look familiar at all, and the pendant he wore was of a style the traveled warrior hadn't seen before. The blonde man took a step back and Raikon obliged, allowing him the space. "I don't know where or what this place is. I was hoping you would tell me." He tried to remember more of the night before, now that the warm air and movement had cleared his mind a little. Everything was very hazy from when he left the meeting hall. He remembered someone helping him down the street. He had asked to go back to the inn, the Gnarled Pine. But he didn't remember making it to his bed. There was something else, they had gone somewhere... But the memory remained evasive. He looked down at the other unconscious bodies, pondering if he should wake them as well. "My name is Raikon Delnai, I have no idea how I got here." He glanced back over to the man shifting nervously beside him. "Stay calm, it doesn't look like we're in any immediate danger. Can you tell me who you are?" He recognized the look of contained panic, something he had seen in many before a battle. He hoped there wouldn't be a battle. Raikon walked over to one of the other bodies and knelt down. He pushed the hood back and frowned. A woman, an elf at that. That made him more nervous. The only elves he had encountered had put two arrows into him, and he wasn't keen on repeating the experience. He noticed the bow, quiver of arrows and well worn daggers and decided this one could stay asleep a while longer. He stood up carefully and stepped away.</s>
<\|description\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) Age: 28 Class: Fighter/Captain Gender: Male Race: Human Appearance: Raikon is a tall, well built man. Standing at 6'2" and weighing 220lbs he is an imposing figure to behold while on the battlefield. His intimidating size is mitigated by a very kind face, constant genuine smile, and expressive green eyes. He has bright red hair cut short on the sides and left slightly longer on top, with side burns that connect to his beard, which is well kept and trimmed. His hands and forearms are marked by a smattering of scars from years of battle, others, more serious, are hidden under his armor and clothing. Character Perk: Optimistic Leader- Raikon tries to see the best in everything, and always finds a ray of hope to guide him. He inspires his comrades to action, providing a resistance to intimidation, fear, and mental spell effects to them and himself. Character Flaw: Sore Loser- When things don't go his way Raikon can have a hard time letting go, often trying to gain victory even when defeat is already assured. Others will have to force him to stand down, even if it means injury or death. ---------- Alignment: Chaotic Good STR: 16 DEX: 12 CON: 14 INT: 10 WIS: 12 CHA: 14 Abilities: Unshakable- Raikon is an experienced veteran and does not lose his composure in the midst of battle. He cannot be flanked unless it is from behind. Quick Draw- Raikon can switch between his weapons and shield almost instantly, never losing a step in battle. Last Stand- If Raikon were to receive a mortal blow, he may take one last offensive action before becoming incapacitated. Skills: Diplomacy (60) Intimidate (20) Sense Motive (60) Perception (40) Survival (20) Spells: Raikon has no inherent magical ability. Armor: Raikon wears a padded undershirt, chainmail armor, and a belted, hard dark leather tunic. His hands are protected by thick leather gloves which match his rough leather boots. Chainmail hosen are held tightly to his legs with strap and belts to maximize mobility and protection. Weapons: His weaponry is varied with a javelin on his back, long shining steel sword strapped to his left hip, and a round steel shield hanging from his right. He also carries two sharp daggers tucked between his weapon belts. Items/Misc: Raikon carries a backpack with various supplies including a 20ft coil of rope, tinder and firebox, maintenance gear such as whet stones and oil, rations and a water skin, thin wire, a bedroll, oiled tarp and waterproof cloak. He also has a collapsible oil lantern and basic medical supplies: A needle, thread, bandages, and herbs to fight back infection. Biography: In the capital city of the kingdom Mejise, in a small two room hut, a young boy with hair like fire learned a very early lesson about life and death. As his father beat his mother senseless on the floor of their shack, a young Raikon Delnai learned that often times there will be no one there to help you, and that sometimes to protect one you must kill another. Raikon took his fathers sword and struck him through the side, instantly killing him and saving his mother. Free of his wickedness, his mother guided Raikon along a path of gentleness, teaching him to use his strength and courage to protect others, and to always be a careful, loving man. The lessons were reforged and refined many times as Raikon grew to adulthood. He joined the military at 16 to protect his mother and city from enemy invasion. The empire of Burena had become greedy, and had lashed out on the independent provinces at her border, intent on gaining land and strength. As the battles went on, the trials of his position forged iron bands around his heart. He proved himself to be a capable warrior and effective leader, eventually gaining the ear of the generals around him. He continued to learn: to command, to inspire. As the war went on from months to years, and it was looking as though it would go on forever, he learned that sometimes it takes only one person standing fast for just a moment longer to make a difference, and that he could be that person. In the final battle for Mejise, his comrades had nearly all fallen to the hands of the Burean military. The few survivors were hiding behind the walls, waiting for the enemy to finish their breach, and storm the final stronghold. Raikon fought along the battlements alone, taking down the enemy archers who had managed to entrench themselves. With the way clear, he descended into the courtyard, and began to barricade the final door alone. It wouldn't have been enough, but his courage inspired those around him, and more men felt the fire relight in their hearts. They continued fighting the enemy off until, finally, Burena retreated and the castle held. The tide had turned, and a year later the war was won. Raikon had aged into a fine commander, and under his leadership Mejise rebuilt their fortifications, reworked alliances, and found a time of safety once again. But it wasn't long before Burena became hungry once more. With the enemy military mobilizing, Raikon and a small band of like minded mercenaries came together, marching to offer their services to defend the independent nations of the free Eastern lands.</s> <\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston At a minimum, the other people there appeared equally confused and did not appear openly hostile. That was a good sign. They'd also come from far away, which meant that Dacheus was probably not at fault for bringing them here. Probably. Then how did we get here? With the immediate "Am I going to get stabbed?" concerns dealt with, the mage turned his attention to his surroundings once more. Figuring out where he was would be a good start. Dacheus turned and walked toward one of the windows without taking the time to introduce himself. Outside were mountains, covered in snow and ice. Wait, what the hell? He looked around the room, held out his hand to the air. No wind, warm, greenery, running water. He looked outside again. Freezing cold. Was it merely an illusion? He walked up to a large, open window and hopped into it, leaning outside. The wind whipped around his head, stinging his cheeks. He quickly retreated and touched his face; the snow in his beard was quite real. Then is this room the false one? No, no. I checked. He rubbed the spot on his head and confirmed that he had indeed hit himself with a rock. And the snow and ice outside… that's real too. Which means… There were a few possible explanations. They might not be in the mountains at all, but every window was a portal to a frozen realm. Unlikely, but possible. More likely, they were in the mountains, but there was some sort of barrier keeping the cold out and the warmth in. He began an arcane inspection of the windows, watching the way the magic seemed to ripple as he moved his hand out into the cold and pulled it back. "What a fascinating little barrier…" he mused. It somehow allowed him to move through it while minimizing airflow, preventing the freezing wind from blasting through the great hall. He stepped back and dashed to the next window, looking for the same thing. "This is so neat! Put one of these in the door of your house and never deal with winter drafts again! Why, this could revolutionize the principles of construction even in temperate realms, let alone cold ones!" He dashed to the next window. "But how on earth does it work…"</s> <\|message\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) He turned back and looked at the man named Caspian as he introduced himself, nodding his head in a short bow. He frowned and thought back to the places he'd been. "Its nice to meet you Caspian. Kalakyth, Where is that? I've been all over the eastern lands, I've never heard of the place." He grumbled, scratching the back of his head, "Where in the world are we?" He spun around quickly, his hand reaching to his sword out of habit, as he heard the newcomer call out to them. When he saw the man had stayed a good distance away and appeared relatively unarmed he relaxed, letting his hand back down to his side. Caspian answered before he could, and the man seemed to lose interest almost instantly and started mumbling to himself and wandering around. An elf and... whoever that was. He sighed and shook his head, feeling a dark weight start to form in the pit of his stomach. He watched the newcomer walk over to the window. He could hear the man talking about something but couldn't make out the words as he hadn't followed. But he saw the jacketed figure reaching and peering out the window and his gaze followed. He could see the icy mountains beyond, the frost and icicles clinging to the window ledge. The dark feeling grew. Magic, something he had no experience with and never understood. Raikon glanced back over to the short blonde next to him, wondering what secrets he may be hiding as well. He felt oddly out of place, which only compounded the feeling of confusion that was building within him. He took two slow breaths and set his jaw, remembering to focus only on what was important. He looked around for supplies and signs of activity. First he had to make sure they were safe, and took advantage of everything possible. He saw the cloak on the steps, broken casks of what could have been ale or mead long ago. None of that was useful. With the growth being undisturbed it looked as though the four of them were the first to be in this place in as long as they had been alive, probably longer. He shivered with unease, and turned to look at the statues. He didn't recognize the construction, everything looked ancient. His eyes moved up to the giant red ruby, or whatever it was being held by the center statue. The back of his head throbbed, and he remembered for a moment deciding to pray at the temple before going back to the inn, pray for their lost comrades. He remembered a great red stone. Everything else was a hazy mess. His eyes looked down to just above the statue, and he wondered if he could climb up, or get someone else to reach the small wooden rails he could see positioned there. Raikon looked back to the dark haired man pondering at the window. He seemed to have an interest in the magic of this place, and Raikon wondered whether the gem or his memory would mean anything to the fellow. He looked over to Caspian and held out a hand. "I'll be right back," and then walked over to the steps. He called out to the other man at the window, "You there! Come here for a moment. What do you make of this gemstone?"</s> <\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston Dacheus moved his hands through the barrier several more times, watching them and the subtle ripples in the air around them. "Oh, that's… huh. I wonder…" He continued muttering to himself as he pulled his spellbook from its pouch and started reading, comparing what he had written with what he was seeing. "Oooh, that's interesting. But it's… no, wait." He continued his myopic inspection of the windows until someone interrupted him. He turned and looked over the shoulder as if annoyed. Oh wait. Other people. Probably gotta deal with them, they don't know why we're here either. He turned back to his book and took a breath. They're not enemies yet. They're lost too. We should try to work together. Then he tucked his book under his arm and turned back toward the larger man standing by the statue. "Oh, yes! I should have a look at that, shouldn't I?" he answered, walking quickly -- almost skipping -- across the room. There was simply so much to see and to try to understand, even if he was stranded in a strange place with no idea how he'd gotten there or how to leave, he was still visibly excited. He came to a stop at the base of the statue and looked up at the stone. "Well, it's big and red. Gems don't usually get that big though, so it's probably magical," he said, thinking aloud. He opened the tome he carried once more and flipped through it, glancing between the book and the stone, back and forth several times. "Yeah, magical… and I think I've seen that… yes!" The book stopped on a page with a teleportation spell. He stared at the stone and then at the page, twirling his fingers in the air in some sort of pattern. "Yes, that it's. Teleportation of some kind, has to be. Probably what brought us here, although I can't say that for certain." He shut the book again and smiled in satisfaction as he looked up at it. "I'll need a closer look to be sure…" After a few seconds he stopped and turned to the green-eyed man next to him. "What's your name, by the way? I'm Dacheus. I'm a mage," he said, glancing down at the spellbook in his hand. "But I guess that's obvious."</s>	<\|message\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) He looked down at the man's hand, pausing for only a moment. The word mage circled meaninglessly in his head. He had heard the word before, but not in any ways he could have applied to a person or title. More like forces of nature, destructive unknowns. He resisted a shudder and took the mans hand, shaking it eagerly. "Captain Raikon Delnai of the Unserving Band. Pleasure to meet you, Dacheus." He remembered back when his mother used to tell him stories. Of mages waging wars and bringing ruin to the land. Beings of strife and chaos she called them, harbingers of the Gods and the embodiment of their fury. They had been spoken of like demons, but the man who stood before him looked nothing like what he had imagined as a boy. He wasn't shrouded in fire, or wielding a sword made of glass with the soul of a king trapped inside. His mouth twitched, uncertainty filling his mind. He looked back at the statue for a moment, the feeling in the pit of his stomach expanding outward to fill his chest. He didn't know anything about this, and felt completely unprepared. He swallowed loudly and nodded towards the statue before turning back to face Dacheus, "I saw some railings near the top. I figure if you stood on my shoulders you may be able to reach them to steady yourself." His eyes narrowed, "Just... be careful. I don't think I like this thing. I remember something about it, before waking up here. At least I think so, I was fairly drunk at the time."</s>
<\|description\|>Caspian Fleiyril General Information Age: 25 years old. Class: Cleric Gender: Male Length(in meters): 1.70 Race: Human Character Perk: Focus. Impossible to interrupt while casting in combat. Character Flaw: Has disadvantages in actions while not in the presence of a friendly part member within seeing distance. Appearance: Caspian's features lean slightly towards feminine, as unlike most men, he hadn't developed evident muscles and also lacks a strong jawline. He's a bit lanky, but not exactly too thin. He's on the pale side too, with light blonde hair that barely reaches his shoulders, and vivid green eyes that almost seems luminous. His lips often naturally quirk into a light smile, and generally has a trust worthy physique – as he doesn't really look very threatening. Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Stats STR(Strength) = 9 DEX(Dexterity) = 12 CON(Constitution) = 9 INT(Intelligence) = 12 WIS(Wisdom) = 18 CHR(Charisma) = 14 Skills: Alchemy [50] Heal [50] - The ability to help someone recover from wounds or debilitating conditions, including disease, without the use of spells. Survival [50] - Skill dealing with living off the land. Streetwise [20] - Skill concerning being 'smart' in the streets, finding information, and avoiding dangers. Diplomacy [25] Abilities: Aura of healing [10-20] - When this aura is cast, magical healing energiesn is concentrated and focused to affect the surrounding area. It's a delayed healing spell that heals a fraction of what a normal spell would, but does so continuously over time. This is mentally draining, so at some point can no longer be maintained. [2 hours tops duration, for now] Spells: Restoration [20] - Restores lost strength. Create Food and Water [10] Cure Wounds [20-50] - Cure wounds ranging from light cuts to serious injuries. Cure Diseases [30] Remove Curse [30] Barkskin [20] - Gives the recipient a 'tougher skin', thus giving him/her/it a natural armor. Detect Poison [30] Items Armour: His outfit is not something that would stand out in a tavern, or in a crowd, or so he would like to think. His 'armour' consists of nothing but a white shirt and dark grey pants, topped with a sleek black cloak that's short enough to not touch the ground, but long enough to reach past his knees. The cloak's main function is against the sun, really, as it functions well enough to hide him from the heat. It can be used against the cold, but not as good as it does against the sun's rays. He wears black short boots with it all. Weapons: A silver dagger: One that has a black smooth wooden sheath. It's very sharp. Not high quality, but good enough for him, as he isn't that proficient in handling it. It's more for self-defence, and not for attacking. Items: A pendant: Or more specifically, a clear teardrop-shaped crystal hanging off a silver metal chain. It glows a flickering white light at night, the intensity of a candle, only it gives off a white light. It can be used to illuminate very dark caverns. It was a gift from his bestfriend when he was younger. A sling bag : A bit torn on the edges, and just big enough to not look awkwardly too large for him. Very durable and tough. A silver flask : For holding water, or other liquids. Bandages : Self-explanatory. Healing Potion, Light [6]: Tiny diamond-shaped glass vials, intended for emergency situations. Mainly used for blood replenishing and closing of wounds. Gold: 0GP Miscellaneous: Biography Caspian Fleiyril learned healing out of necessity. He had been an orphan, left by his mother who died the second he was born, and left by a father whom he knows not of. It wasn't that bad, really, as the place he ended up in didn't withheld any food nor any basic necessities. He was raised in an orphanage along with too many others. He had always been a bit quiet, and he was very behaved and listened to the nuns that ran the orphanage. As much as the nuns tried to indoctrinate them into believing some god, he didn't become a believer. He followed their rules, though, as much as he could, until the day came where they all parted ways. At the age of 10, all orphans have to leave to find their roles in the world, or something like that – as the nuns often say. It was normal in their world. The funds that kept the orphanage running were limited to a certain amount of children. Caspian didn't think of it as cruel, as if it wasn't for the orphanage he got in, he might have set out into the real world sooner. He tries to see it in a positive light. He got out of the orphanage with a friend, one of his six roommates; a kid named Nikolas. Nik was a boy who was far bigger and stronger than him, louder and much more vibrant, with flaming red hair and arms that have too many scars. Nik thought that getting out of the orphanage was an adventure, and for the half part, it was true. They both got odd jobs from different people, in various locations. While Nik learned how to brawl, carry things that were larger than him, and occasionally steal, Caspian learned from a withering old man the basics of healing, while he became a helper of sorts. His friend, or best friend, got into petty fights too much with his short temper, and in the end he couldn't help but feel obligated to learn certain things to help the only one who stayed when everyone else left. He learned steadily under the watchful eye of a mysterious old man who never gave a name. It was a harsh world they lived in, he realized around that time. They lived in different places, sometimes bad sometimes nice, often in streets and such, until the old man whom Caspian was learning healing spells from finally croaked out, leaving him with nothing but books regarding healing. He thought it was odd, how an old man like the Old Man died despite knowing so much wonderful things. They left that village and headed towards the forest then – because Nik stole too many things, and Caspian learned enough already. They were fifteen then. The forest they entered, they stayed in for a full year. They lost track of time in the damp dark forest, because the second they came inside, they easily lost their way. Back when they were wandering into villages and cities, Nik functioned as the one who got the money. Caspian was useless, as he couldn't be hired as a helper to carry things because he was weak, and because he didn't look sturdy enough to be able to handle work. He looked like he was made of glass, as Nik often says, so he was confined into reading and practicing spells. However, the forest they mistakenly entered was dangerous, and Caspian's knowledge and skills in healing came to a test many times. He learned about herbs and poisons, and different forest things, because of how close they were to nature itself – which either helped them or tried to kill them. There were days where he was so exhausted with using spells that he started to lose consciousness, but it was alright, he often thought then – because at least he would die with someone who has stuck with him so far. The time in the forest proved that Nik could depend on him. Caspian Fleiyhil found a loyal friend in a boy named Nikolas, and they stayed that way until adulthood. They made other friends one they got out of the forest, too, but they stuck to each other. Their party of two became eight before he even knew it. They were the perfect partners in crime, before it all. Nik knew nothing of the things Caspian knows, and Caspian knows nothing of what Nik knew. However, as the years slowly gone by, Caspian failed to realize how he had grown more and more dependent each year. None in their company knew how to heal, but they all knew how to fight. He was the only Cleric, the healer of the group, and they kept it that way. He was kept out of harm's way, and thus he didn't even realize how he was completely disregarding important things – like how to fight, because Nik was his best friend, and it wasn't like they were going to separate, right? Caspian was deadly loyal. Nik progressed from an adventurous kid into a cruel man who fought and killed for money and selfish reasons, but Caspian only saw the kid who got bruises on his arms from working to feed himself and his friend. It was alright, all the bad things that Nik did, because Nik was his friend. They got through hard times together, and nothing could change that. At the age of 19, he was the prized healer of a group of mercenaries lead by his closest friend. He spends half of his share in money donating to the orphanage of whatever town or city they were in, while the other half was spent for their group, for food mostly. He was often gifted with books for healing, and about herbs and things. He wasn't fond of reading them, but they were often given as gifts, so he read and learned them all on his own pace. There were times he was offered by other people to work for them instead, but he turned them all down, because he was focused in his group. His group of friends were far from being nice people, but that was fine with him, because they accepted him and they never left. They were his friends. His. Everything else that doesn't belong to him doesn't matter that much. He likes his life, truly, because it was simple. He liked spending time with his friends, laughing around a bonfire, and just trying to make it through every single day. It didn't matter if all his friends committed sins, because what mattered to him was that it was fun being with them, scraping through life.</s> <\|message\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) He looked down at the man's hand, pausing for only a moment. The word mage circled meaninglessly in his head. He had heard the word before, but not in any ways he could have applied to a person or title. More like forces of nature, destructive unknowns. He resisted a shudder and took the mans hand, shaking it eagerly. "Captain Raikon Delnai of the Unserving Band. Pleasure to meet you, Dacheus." He remembered back when his mother used to tell him stories. Of mages waging wars and bringing ruin to the land. Beings of strife and chaos she called them, harbingers of the Gods and the embodiment of their fury. They had been spoken of like demons, but the man who stood before him looked nothing like what he had imagined as a boy. He wasn't shrouded in fire, or wielding a sword made of glass with the soul of a king trapped inside. His mouth twitched, uncertainty filling his mind. He looked back at the statue for a moment, the feeling in the pit of his stomach expanding outward to fill his chest. He didn't know anything about this, and felt completely unprepared. He swallowed loudly and nodded towards the statue before turning back to face Dacheus, "I saw some railings near the top. I figure if you stood on my shoulders you may be able to reach them to steady yourself." His eyes narrowed, "Just... be careful. I don't think I like this thing. I remember something about it, before waking up here. At least I think so, I was fairly drunk at the time."</s> <\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston Dacheus returned his book to its satchel. "Yeah, that should work." It wasn't ideal, but it should work, right? Raikon was clearly strong enough to support him. With some help, he clambered up onto the soldier's shoulders and turned to look at the stone. Clearly magical, clearly powerful, clearly related to their teleportation… "Ooh… oh, my…" Without thinking, he leaned forward to get a better look. Time seemed to slow as the large gem suddenly occupied all of his attention, a superhuman focus that shut out everything else to devote its efforts to the wonder in front of him. "Closer!" he called out. "Move closer, yes, like tha--" Slowly, the fact that he was no longer quite upright dawned on him. Raikon was not moving closer; the mage was simply leaning forward. Too far forward, in fact. "Ack!" His arms pinwheeled, trying to keep his balance, but the satchel with his spellbook swung forward, throwing off what little balance he might have had. He managed to raise his hands as he pitched forward and tried to grab hold of the statue to no avail. His hands served some purpose, slowing his fall so that his face didn't hit the statue quite as hard. It all seemed to be happening in the background, though, as he twisted his neck to continue looking at the gem even as he fell. "No, no! Come back!" he cried out as he reached toward the receding ruby with one hand while he slid down toward the floor. After a couple seconds of absurdity, he finally reached the floor, planting his hands on it to keep from landing on his face. It was only a minor distraction, as he kept trying to turn his head and look up at the magic gem. "It's so… I need to get… Dammit, put my feet down already!" he spat, though he at least had the good sense not to try and kick himself away from Raikon. He needed to get back up to the gem, and clearly the soldier wasn't going to be of any help.</s>	<\|message\|>Caspian Fleiyril Caspian had been remaining silent and observing for awhile, listening as the other two conscious men talked. He was quite unsurprised that the unknown male introduced himself as a mage, as they weren't that rare from where he was. Yes, he had encountered a few mages here and there, but then again had never been one to talk to anyone outside his small circle of friends and thus never truly got to know one. The books were often the giveaways, and some had odd trinkets and what not. He had moved and walked closer when Raikon and the man named Dacheus proceeded to try to get to the gem. Along that time, Raikon mentioned his position, the words and names not ringing a bell. He also watched as they failed soon enough in the gem acquiring, in a non-spectacular way. He couldn't help but feel like, if they were his friends, he would have been snickering at the failure and offering comfort after. When Dacheus demanded to be let go, he walked over and decided to stand in close talking distance. Seeing other people struggle and try to make sense of whatever they were in managed to calm him down a bit. He wasn't alone in it. "Kalakyth is in , North of Dulyns." Caspian answered Raikon's question after the long thinking he had, trying to make himself remember all the countries and continents he studied before. He then turned his eyes towards the mage whom he had yet to introduce himself to, when he failed to remember all. He ignored the ridiculousness of the situation. "I'm Caspian Fleiyril. I'm a healer, or a cleric in other terms. I would say it's nice to meet you, but this isn't nice at all." He said truthfully. Honestly, he didn't know what else to say or do, so he just stared awkwardly. He didn't want to offer help, really, since it looked like even the help of a captain wasn't sufficient. What more could he do?</s>
<\|description\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston General Information Age: Late 30's Class: Mage, specialization in illusion and destruction Gender: Male Length(in meters): 1.7 Race: Human Character Perk: Studious. Dacheus has spent decades in focused study, devoting himself to the arcane arts. If something holds his interest, he has a nigh-supernatural ability to focus and study and retain almost everything he reads. Character Flaw: Ooh, Shiny! The myopic focus required to learn such advanced techniques comes with a downside. Dacheus is powerfully distractible, not by traditionally shiny things like jewels and coin, but by arcane oddities. Outside of urgent situations like combat, he may need to be physically dragged away from things which capture his attention. Appearance: Dacheus is a man with a medium, ordinary build. Jet black hair with a streak of white along one side. Rich brown eyes that seem to turn bronze in the right light. Rather than a pale skin characteristic of his profession, he has a mild tan, studying and working outside when he can. Various scars, resulting from arcane mishaps of one kind or another, have been covered and disguised with intricate tattoos. Looks (and sings) kinda like: Alignment: The Fools, I'll Show Them All! (Neutral) Stats STR(Strength): 10 DEX(Dexterity): 12 CON(Constitution): 12 INT(Intelligence): 18 WIS(Wisdom): 10 CHR(Charisma): 16 Skills: [WIP] Spellcraft [50] Concentration [40] Disguise [40] - limited to illusions. Search [30] - Dammit, where did I leave it this time? Decypher Script [50] Language: Eldritch [30] Performance: Dancing [20] Performance: Singing [50] Abilities: [WIP] Dumb Luck: Most magical progress is made through careful study and practice. Most of the time, Dacheus follows this principle. Once in awhile, he gets an idea and decides to try it out before studying its consequences. Sometimes it works, and he discovers that he can make the illusory dragon breathe fire. Sometimes it doesn't, and he gets a fresh scar to cover up. Illusory Casting: One such successful experiment taught him how to cast evocation spells (fire, etc) from his more powerful illusions. If he has a Major Illusion cast, he can cast weakened evocation spells which originate from within the illusion. The illusion and the target of the spell must be within the spell's normal range of Dacheus and each other. Spells: [WIP] Lightning Bolt [50] - A simple blast of lightning leaving his hands and traveling in a straight line. For when a single thing (and whatever's standing behind it) needs to suffer. Fireball [50] - A small ball of flame leaves his hand, flies to a given spot, and detonates. Capable of filling an ordinary room with flames. (20' radius, 8d6) Firebolt [60] - A more powerful ball of fire which strikes a much smaller area with much greater force. Capable of hitting a single target and people adjacent to it. (10' radius, 12d6) Telekinesis [40] - Allows the caster to move objects with his mind. Disguise Self [40] - A simple illusion to change his appearance. Minor Illusion [20] - Small sounds and images. Major Illusion [60] - Not-so-small sounds and images. Depending on the time he has to dedicate to crafting the illusion, this might be as simple as a person or animal appearing or as complex as a pair of armies doing battle, though larger illusions will be less believable and easier to see through. Mirror Image [20] - Several duplicates of the caster appear around him. Mislead [50] - An image of the caster appears in his place while he turns invisible. Items [WIP] (there's a pattern here) Armour: Very little. Working in his lab/library, he wears an ornate leather jerkin and matching bracers, enchanted to protect him from his own mishaps. Over that, he wears a jacket with at least a dozen pockets. Simple shirt, pants and shoes, usually black and grey. Weapons: A knife, but it's a tool more than a weapon. Items: Enchanted knife, writing tools (parchments, quills), spellbook. Gold: Left it at home. Miscellaneous: Biography Dacheus Zaraphiston liked to tell people he was a wizard. After all, his father had been, and his grandfather, and several others throughout the family tree. And when he'd first started to manifest arcane talent, that's how he'd been treated. Taught to read, to study, to learn from books and rituals and theory. And it hardly worked. The young mage drove himself to the point of madness, trying to learn to be like his father. He forced himself to sit and read a tome from cover to cover, absorbing everything it contained and yet unable to turn that knowledge into more than slight arcane progress. Months went by like this, even years, before a family visitor finally noticed the problem: Dacheus wasn't a wizard in the first place. He was a sorcerer, and under proper instruction (again, from outside the family, to his father's chagrin), his abilities grew in leaps and bounds. They weren't royalty, but a family line with a history of wizardry was going to be well off. They may have been the lower part of the aristocracy, but aristocracy they were. Dacheus was accustomed to fine food, fine clothes, and minimal consequences as a young man. When he wasn't studying the arcane arts, he was learning to sing and dance like a proper young man, wooing young women and otherwise getting into trouble. As a young man, Dacheus had focused primarily on illusions, the sort that could be used to entertain others or to disguise himself. Simple evocations, summoning fire or electricity, augmented this. The first of his scars came as a result of a mishap shortly before his twentieth birthday, one which burned down much of his family's home and saw him exiled from his home city of Aasleagh. Exactly what he was trying to accomplish, no one ever quite determined. Either way, it saw him turned loose upon the world, making a living by selling his skills, usually as an entertainer, occasionally as a spellslinger. He put more effort into learning his evocations; a surprising number of problems could be solved with the judicious application of fire and lightning. Over the next nearly twenty years, he traveled around the countries of Tiltha and Ambrogio. He somehow avoided building a reputation by putting on a different illusory mask every time he pulled up stakes. Any time he visited a major city, he would find a library, read for three days straight, and then head back out into the wilderness to experiment with his new knowledge. These days, after discovering a way to cast an evocation spell with an illusion as its origin, he is now working on mastering teleportation as an escape tool while leaving an illusory copy of himself behind.</s> <\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston Slowly the voices nearby pierced the consciousness of the fair-skinned man in the robe and he began to stir. He picked up his head and glanced around. This was clearly not the valley outside of Kyranholm where he was pretty sure he'd last been. He sat up straighter, rubbed his eyes, and looked around yet again. The greenery, the running water, all that felt right. Right? No, no it's quite wrong. He looked at it again. That is not the same creek, those are not the same trees. And these are not the mercenaries I was with before. Dacheus Zaraphiston buried his face in his hands and tried to focus, to think. How did he get here? It made no sense. Had he done something wrong? He retraced his steps as best he could. He had been in the valley, right? And he was testing out a new spell, a combination of teleportation with misdirection. Rather than just creating an illusory duplicate of himself while turning invisible, he was actually going to teleport out of harm's way at the same time. It should have worked. He had mastered both spells, mashing them together shouldn't have been a problem, right? Apparently it had. Ok, think. Valley. Mercenaries. Spell. Soo… what went wrong? He straightened up and looked around again. This is sooo not the valley. Where in the nine hells am I? Did something go wrong? Is this one of my illusions? He looked at a rock next to him and tried to see through it. It remained where it was, refusing to yield. He rapped his knuckles against it. Still it remained solid. He picked it up and inspected it closely. Sure looks real. For good measure, he bonked it against his forehead. Ouch. Ok, that was stupid. It's real. Dacheus set the rock down and stood up. Is this my fault? No, it can't be, I'm not bleeding. But how else… no. Just no. Not my fault. He surveyed the room once more. Right? With the initial shock wearing off, he tried to get his bearings. He was indoors, it was reasonably warm, there were trees and water and other people and none of it made sense. He looked down at himself. Everything was still where it belonged. Wizard's robe, spellbook in its bag on his back. Arcane tools and trinkets in the pockets of his robe. Still fully dressed, unlike his first teleportation mishap that had left him naked in the city square. Thank the gods for invisibility. And then there was the matter of the other people. Two men, already up, and an unconscious half-elven woman, by the looks of it. Well, could be a man, hard to tell with the elves. Regardless, they weren't the marauding band he'd been working with over the last month. He wouldn't really miss them, but it was nice to be appreciated. He turned and looked at the two men. "Gentlemen. Do you know where we are?" he asked calmly, bronze eyes flicking between the two. One was large and confident. The other was small and terrified. Dacheus would fit somewhere in between, in both senses.</s> <\|message\|>Caspian Fleiyril Caspian mentally counted his breaths, slowly being successful in calming himself. It was just the confusion, he tells himself, of waking up in the company of beings whom he did not recognize. He listened as the man named Raikon spoke, taking into account how apparently both of them knew nothing of the place they were currently in. It gave him a sense of slight relief that he wasn't alone in his current predicament. Information taken in, the new dominant question in his mind was what or who exactly brought them there. If his newest speculation was right, then the others with them were also from another place. Oh, he was still cautious and tinged with nervousness, just less. He wasn't alone and that was very relieving to know. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. With a clearer mind, he surveyed his surroundings,more critical this time. Still, he failed to recognize anything. The towering elven figures make it seem like a temple, or a church of sorts. Something nagged in the back of his mind, but he couldn't remember what it was. "I'm Caspian Fleiyril. I don't know this place, either, or how I got here." He answered, choosing to stay nearer to the man who seemed to not be an enemy at the moment. "I remember I was walking with my companions. It was broad daylight then in Kalakyth." He talked before walking towards the female elven, just to check if she was truly just asleep and alive. It was often his job to do so, and out of habit he felt the need to check on her. He was just about to crouch down to check her manually, and to wake her up, but someone else showed up. His attention snapped towards the new arrival. The bronze eyes were odd. Very eye-catching. And then, the blackhaired man asked the same question that was voiced out earlier. "We don't. Not really."</s>	<\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston At a minimum, the other people there appeared equally confused and did not appear openly hostile. That was a good sign. They'd also come from far away, which meant that Dacheus was probably not at fault for bringing them here. Probably. Then how did we get here? With the immediate "Am I going to get stabbed?" concerns dealt with, the mage turned his attention to his surroundings once more. Figuring out where he was would be a good start. Dacheus turned and walked toward one of the windows without taking the time to introduce himself. Outside were mountains, covered in snow and ice. Wait, what the hell? He looked around the room, held out his hand to the air. No wind, warm, greenery, running water. He looked outside again. Freezing cold. Was it merely an illusion? He walked up to a large, open window and hopped into it, leaning outside. The wind whipped around his head, stinging his cheeks. He quickly retreated and touched his face; the snow in his beard was quite real. Then is this room the false one? No, no. I checked. He rubbed the spot on his head and confirmed that he had indeed hit himself with a rock. And the snow and ice outside… that's real too. Which means… There were a few possible explanations. They might not be in the mountains at all, but every window was a portal to a frozen realm. Unlikely, but possible. More likely, they were in the mountains, but there was some sort of barrier keeping the cold out and the warmth in. He began an arcane inspection of the windows, watching the way the magic seemed to ripple as he moved his hand out into the cold and pulled it back. "What a fascinating little barrier…" he mused. It somehow allowed him to move through it while minimizing airflow, preventing the freezing wind from blasting through the great hall. He stepped back and dashed to the next window, looking for the same thing. "This is so neat! Put one of these in the door of your house and never deal with winter drafts again! Why, this could revolutionize the principles of construction even in temperate realms, let alone cold ones!" He dashed to the next window. "But how on earth does it work…"</s>
<\|description\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston General Information Age: Late 30's Class: Mage, specialization in illusion and destruction Gender: Male Length(in meters): 1.7 Race: Human Character Perk: Studious. Dacheus has spent decades in focused study, devoting himself to the arcane arts. If something holds his interest, he has a nigh-supernatural ability to focus and study and retain almost everything he reads. Character Flaw: Ooh, Shiny! The myopic focus required to learn such advanced techniques comes with a downside. Dacheus is powerfully distractible, not by traditionally shiny things like jewels and coin, but by arcane oddities. Outside of urgent situations like combat, he may need to be physically dragged away from things which capture his attention. Appearance: Dacheus is a man with a medium, ordinary build. Jet black hair with a streak of white along one side. Rich brown eyes that seem to turn bronze in the right light. Rather than a pale skin characteristic of his profession, he has a mild tan, studying and working outside when he can. Various scars, resulting from arcane mishaps of one kind or another, have been covered and disguised with intricate tattoos. Looks (and sings) kinda like: Alignment: The Fools, I'll Show Them All! (Neutral) Stats STR(Strength): 10 DEX(Dexterity): 12 CON(Constitution): 12 INT(Intelligence): 18 WIS(Wisdom): 10 CHR(Charisma): 16 Skills: [WIP] Spellcraft [50] Concentration [40] Disguise [40] - limited to illusions. Search [30] - Dammit, where did I leave it this time? Decypher Script [50] Language: Eldritch [30] Performance: Dancing [20] Performance: Singing [50] Abilities: [WIP] Dumb Luck: Most magical progress is made through careful study and practice. Most of the time, Dacheus follows this principle. Once in awhile, he gets an idea and decides to try it out before studying its consequences. Sometimes it works, and he discovers that he can make the illusory dragon breathe fire. Sometimes it doesn't, and he gets a fresh scar to cover up. Illusory Casting: One such successful experiment taught him how to cast evocation spells (fire, etc) from his more powerful illusions. If he has a Major Illusion cast, he can cast weakened evocation spells which originate from within the illusion. The illusion and the target of the spell must be within the spell's normal range of Dacheus and each other. Spells: [WIP] Lightning Bolt [50] - A simple blast of lightning leaving his hands and traveling in a straight line. For when a single thing (and whatever's standing behind it) needs to suffer. Fireball [50] - A small ball of flame leaves his hand, flies to a given spot, and detonates. Capable of filling an ordinary room with flames. (20' radius, 8d6) Firebolt [60] - A more powerful ball of fire which strikes a much smaller area with much greater force. Capable of hitting a single target and people adjacent to it. (10' radius, 12d6) Telekinesis [40] - Allows the caster to move objects with his mind. Disguise Self [40] - A simple illusion to change his appearance. Minor Illusion [20] - Small sounds and images. Major Illusion [60] - Not-so-small sounds and images. Depending on the time he has to dedicate to crafting the illusion, this might be as simple as a person or animal appearing or as complex as a pair of armies doing battle, though larger illusions will be less believable and easier to see through. Mirror Image [20] - Several duplicates of the caster appear around him. Mislead [50] - An image of the caster appears in his place while he turns invisible. Items [WIP] (there's a pattern here) Armour: Very little. Working in his lab/library, he wears an ornate leather jerkin and matching bracers, enchanted to protect him from his own mishaps. Over that, he wears a jacket with at least a dozen pockets. Simple shirt, pants and shoes, usually black and grey. Weapons: A knife, but it's a tool more than a weapon. Items: Enchanted knife, writing tools (parchments, quills), spellbook. Gold: Left it at home. Miscellaneous: Biography Dacheus Zaraphiston liked to tell people he was a wizard. After all, his father had been, and his grandfather, and several others throughout the family tree. And when he'd first started to manifest arcane talent, that's how he'd been treated. Taught to read, to study, to learn from books and rituals and theory. And it hardly worked. The young mage drove himself to the point of madness, trying to learn to be like his father. He forced himself to sit and read a tome from cover to cover, absorbing everything it contained and yet unable to turn that knowledge into more than slight arcane progress. Months went by like this, even years, before a family visitor finally noticed the problem: Dacheus wasn't a wizard in the first place. He was a sorcerer, and under proper instruction (again, from outside the family, to his father's chagrin), his abilities grew in leaps and bounds. They weren't royalty, but a family line with a history of wizardry was going to be well off. They may have been the lower part of the aristocracy, but aristocracy they were. Dacheus was accustomed to fine food, fine clothes, and minimal consequences as a young man. When he wasn't studying the arcane arts, he was learning to sing and dance like a proper young man, wooing young women and otherwise getting into trouble. As a young man, Dacheus had focused primarily on illusions, the sort that could be used to entertain others or to disguise himself. Simple evocations, summoning fire or electricity, augmented this. The first of his scars came as a result of a mishap shortly before his twentieth birthday, one which burned down much of his family's home and saw him exiled from his home city of Aasleagh. Exactly what he was trying to accomplish, no one ever quite determined. Either way, it saw him turned loose upon the world, making a living by selling his skills, usually as an entertainer, occasionally as a spellslinger. He put more effort into learning his evocations; a surprising number of problems could be solved with the judicious application of fire and lightning. Over the next nearly twenty years, he traveled around the countries of Tiltha and Ambrogio. He somehow avoided building a reputation by putting on a different illusory mask every time he pulled up stakes. Any time he visited a major city, he would find a library, read for three days straight, and then head back out into the wilderness to experiment with his new knowledge. These days, after discovering a way to cast an evocation spell with an illusion as its origin, he is now working on mastering teleportation as an escape tool while leaving an illusory copy of himself behind.</s> <\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston Dacheus moved his hands through the barrier several more times, watching them and the subtle ripples in the air around them. "Oh, that's… huh. I wonder…" He continued muttering to himself as he pulled his spellbook from its pouch and started reading, comparing what he had written with what he was seeing. "Oooh, that's interesting. But it's… no, wait." He continued his myopic inspection of the windows until someone interrupted him. He turned and looked over the shoulder as if annoyed. Oh wait. Other people. Probably gotta deal with them, they don't know why we're here either. He turned back to his book and took a breath. They're not enemies yet. They're lost too. We should try to work together. Then he tucked his book under his arm and turned back toward the larger man standing by the statue. "Oh, yes! I should have a look at that, shouldn't I?" he answered, walking quickly -- almost skipping -- across the room. There was simply so much to see and to try to understand, even if he was stranded in a strange place with no idea how he'd gotten there or how to leave, he was still visibly excited. He came to a stop at the base of the statue and looked up at the stone. "Well, it's big and red. Gems don't usually get that big though, so it's probably magical," he said, thinking aloud. He opened the tome he carried once more and flipped through it, glancing between the book and the stone, back and forth several times. "Yeah, magical… and I think I've seen that… yes!" The book stopped on a page with a teleportation spell. He stared at the stone and then at the page, twirling his fingers in the air in some sort of pattern. "Yes, that it's. Teleportation of some kind, has to be. Probably what brought us here, although I can't say that for certain." He shut the book again and smiled in satisfaction as he looked up at it. "I'll need a closer look to be sure…" After a few seconds he stopped and turned to the green-eyed man next to him. "What's your name, by the way? I'm Dacheus. I'm a mage," he said, glancing down at the spellbook in his hand. "But I guess that's obvious."</s> <\|message\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) He looked down at the man's hand, pausing for only a moment. The word mage circled meaninglessly in his head. He had heard the word before, but not in any ways he could have applied to a person or title. More like forces of nature, destructive unknowns. He resisted a shudder and took the mans hand, shaking it eagerly. "Captain Raikon Delnai of the Unserving Band. Pleasure to meet you, Dacheus." He remembered back when his mother used to tell him stories. Of mages waging wars and bringing ruin to the land. Beings of strife and chaos she called them, harbingers of the Gods and the embodiment of their fury. They had been spoken of like demons, but the man who stood before him looked nothing like what he had imagined as a boy. He wasn't shrouded in fire, or wielding a sword made of glass with the soul of a king trapped inside. His mouth twitched, uncertainty filling his mind. He looked back at the statue for a moment, the feeling in the pit of his stomach expanding outward to fill his chest. He didn't know anything about this, and felt completely unprepared. He swallowed loudly and nodded towards the statue before turning back to face Dacheus, "I saw some railings near the top. I figure if you stood on my shoulders you may be able to reach them to steady yourself." His eyes narrowed, "Just... be careful. I don't think I like this thing. I remember something about it, before waking up here. At least I think so, I was fairly drunk at the time."</s>	<\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston Dacheus returned his book to its satchel. "Yeah, that should work." It wasn't ideal, but it should work, right? Raikon was clearly strong enough to support him. With some help, he clambered up onto the soldier's shoulders and turned to look at the stone. Clearly magical, clearly powerful, clearly related to their teleportation… "Ooh… oh, my…" Without thinking, he leaned forward to get a better look. Time seemed to slow as the large gem suddenly occupied all of his attention, a superhuman focus that shut out everything else to devote its efforts to the wonder in front of him. "Closer!" he called out. "Move closer, yes, like tha--" Slowly, the fact that he was no longer quite upright dawned on him. Raikon was not moving closer; the mage was simply leaning forward. Too far forward, in fact. "Ack!" His arms pinwheeled, trying to keep his balance, but the satchel with his spellbook swung forward, throwing off what little balance he might have had. He managed to raise his hands as he pitched forward and tried to grab hold of the statue to no avail. His hands served some purpose, slowing his fall so that his face didn't hit the statue quite as hard. It all seemed to be happening in the background, though, as he twisted his neck to continue looking at the gem even as he fell. "No, no! Come back!" he cried out as he reached toward the receding ruby with one hand while he slid down toward the floor. After a couple seconds of absurdity, he finally reached the floor, planting his hands on it to keep from landing on his face. It was only a minor distraction, as he kept trying to turn his head and look up at the magic gem. "It's so… I need to get… Dammit, put my feet down already!" he spat, though he at least had the good sense not to try and kick himself away from Raikon. He needed to get back up to the gem, and clearly the soldier wasn't going to be of any help.</s>
<\|description\|>Clark kent Alias: None, as of yet. Species: Kryptonian Power/Ability Set: Fuelled by the yellow sun of the Solar System, Clark's power set is something not even fully known to himself. Incredible strength, durability, flight, eye lasers and senses many times more capable than a human's are but the most obvious representations of this. As he has grown older and gained greater control of his ability to harness the power of the sun, his capabilities, and the extremity of them, has only increased. Personality: Clark is a good man, and that has defined him for as long as anyone can remember, that and a determined desire to stay out of trouble, don't draw attention. A Kansas boy with the powers of a god, the Kents raised their adoptive son to treat anyone with respect, and he finds the crass rudeness that has lately defined American politics and society to be utterly at odds with the America he knows from his hometown. These two sides of Clark, the man who wants to do good, and the man who wants to stay low, cannot always co-exist, increasingly they are challenged, and soon he must pick one. Biography: Kal'el may hail from Krypton, light years from Earth, but Clark Kent was born and raised in Smallville, Kansas. A farm boy in nurture if not blood, Clark knew more animals then people practically until High School. He never seemed to excel at school, although several teachers, the ones who actually noticed such things and weren't just in it for an easy pass shouting at kids, reported a profound sense that the boy, then young man, was holding himself back, not living up to his potential. Clark didn't exactly make any friends either, sure very few people disliked him, most hardly knew him. He passed through school about as much as a ghost as one could. He turned down offers to join various sports teams, despite his prototypical build, and clear physical health. Once he had his diploma, he was out of Smallville. Clark didn't apply for any universities, he went straight to the East Coast. He walked into three separate Ivy League universities. Professors and Heads of departments laughed at the country boy breezing in an expecting to be heard. They laughed less when in five minutes he solved problems they had entire teams working on. Entire teams of PhD researchers. Kent also walked into the big sports schools, came as a walk on, for Football teams across the coast. He almost drowned in the number of welcome packs he was sent after footage of this freak athlete began circulating around the coaches. In the end, the attention made him panic, and so he looked for something faceless, the kind of person who's never noticed, not really, but always there, watching. The Daily Planet just happened to be the first port of call, and Clark, impressive in his interview, was offered an unpaid internship, on account of his low grades. Two years later and Clark is a full time reporter, the only one on staff without any form of degree or other qualification. The young man turned reporter has covered the election exhaustively, and with such enthusiasm as to 'almost' overshadow the darling of Metropolis journalism, Lois Lane. Nobody talks about second best journalists though, just like Clark wants it.</s> <\|message\|>Ice With the entirety of Downtown Gotham tearing itself apart and the city looking to be torn apart by the chaos, fire and the gas attack - one might say a hero was needed. That was what Alicia Snow aka the superhero know as Ice did. On one part, she also used to live near the Downtown Gotham area - as well as that the fire could likely spread further. As such, with the threat of gas in the air - Ice improvised at that, one thing she was good at that. Using a slightly modified paint-mask to prevent from breathing in the toxic gas at that. She flew through the air into the Downtown area at that, using her ice powers to suffocate the fires raging around the area. It wasn't much, but since it was chaos down in the streets - and the fire department likely at worst, days away, it was her task of getting the fires down before they spread and started engulfing the people inside them in flames. She used her powers to boost herself from roof to roof - coating the fire raging inside them with a sheet of ice, suffocating the flames and much more at that. Being dressed in her usual uniform, namely a blue leotard that allowed her maximum skin. Which was the way how her powers operated, in someway that she was still trying to understand how. As the chaos in the streets were getting worse, she took the chance and jumped down - encoating her entire body in a large body of ice. Upon landing on the ground as an ice golem, she quickly started freezing the large gangs and those, whom were causing the most destruction. A little chill here and there, but it wasn't anything harmful at that, just enough to stop then until the police got the area under control. It was a good thing that ice was both tough, and insulating - since the chaos on the streets was, for a lack of a better word - a chaos.</s> <\|message\|>Mari McCabe Mari McCabe was in Metropolis for the last few days doing a photo shoot. Her agents had told her that a charity show was being held in Gotham and that she needed to be there by the end of the week. She had been working on a line of new clothing inspired by the Tantu Totem and the powers that came with it. Because of these powers Mari had dawned the mantle of Vixen and began to fight crime where ever she was, robbery, gangs, and killing sprees, she had even fought Cheetah on an occasion or two and won. Her plane had landed in Gotham hours ago and now she was at he venue for the charity trying her best to get rich politicians and dignitary's to donate their money, this money would go to helping orphaned African children. While she was talking to some Senator, an explosion blew the front doors off the building ,sending many people back and wounding a few, the lights went out and all you could see where the fires from out side rage on as you heard all the rich folk and scream and guns, fighting, and violence from out side. Pople ran out side, but Mari went to her black bag that carried her black and orange costume. After putting it on she exited the hall and went out onto the street of downtown Gotham. It was madness, people are running fires where burning and crazies where out. Vixen began to help local authorities, deal with the gangs she found squads of cops being bullied by some small groups of gun wielding thugs in back allies. She channeled the cheetah and swiftly took care of the thugs with lighting speed. When she channeled an animal she not only took on its physical traits but she became that being and had learned with control she could use this to her advantage. She could use the instincts, and precision that a cheetah had as she took down her foes with ease and moved onto the next group. As she did this she noticed the fires beginning to die down and soon go out and a ice golem fell fro the sky and landed in front of the larger gangs. Vixen saw it was freezing them and did not attack it instead she moved to help, by disarming the gangs. Fighting who ever the golem missed and knocking them out. Using her speed she jumped in front of it and waved casually. "Hi Iceman thing. I don't know who you are but maybe we should work together to help this situation?" She said to it as chaos raged on.</s> <\|message\|>Bartholomew Henry "Barry" Allen His name was Barry Allen, the fastest man alive, and... he was late for his flight. Barry had been in Gotham the past few days helping the Gotham Police Department on a connecting case. Now he was stuck in traffic taking a cab ride to the airport. Barry was always the type to be late to things before he got his powers and decided to keep on doing so once he did. The guy who's always late couldn't possible be the fastest man alive. He was almost tempted to just get out and run there. If he was too late he'd have to stay in Gotham another night. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but he was ready to get home. His thoughts of getting home was then interrupted by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He took it out and checked to see that he had gotten a missed call and a text message. Was he that out of it that he didn't notice the phone call? The text was asking him if he was at the airport and if he was okay because of all the chaos. Barry looked outside the window and noticed the smoke rising in the city. He asked the cab driver to turn on the radio so they could find out what was going on. The news station talked about a terrorist attack in Gotham and suggested that everyone stay inside so they could be safe. They also announced the grounding of all flights. Not that Barry was planning to go home anymore anyway. He couldn't leave Gotham like this. Up until now he decided to not even hero up while in the city. It wasn't his place to do so. Not unless there was something going on around him. "Stop the car." Barry said as he started unbuckling his seatbelt. "Traffic isn't even moving." The driver replied confused as to why he'd even want to stop the car anyway. "Right. Right." Barry looked at the meter and took the fare out of his wallet. He even gave the driver a little extra. He then got out of the car and waited for the driver to pop open the trunk so he could get his suitcase. Once he did Barry was out of there. He ran normal speed to an alleyway and hid his suitcase before pulling out a ring. He put the ring on and touched the top causing it to spring open and release an expanding suit. Barry used his super speed to put the costume on and became the Flash. As soon as the suit was on he was out of the alley and speeding through the city. Whenever he came across a group of criminals he knocked them out them out and left them for the police. He got civilians to safety whenever he came across them and he even put out a few fires. He was feeling back in his element. He missed this and just hoped any of the resident heroes wouldn't mind him helping out. As he went through downtown he could feel a change in temperature from the rest of the affected areas. He turned a corner and noticed what looked to be an ice golem and someone else in a costume. He was expecting more to see the infamous Batman but the night wasn't over yet. He ran up to the duo and said, "I'm the Flash. Need any help?"</s> <\|message\|>Ice Kindred@Queentze@Ezekiel Ice breathed heavily after the gangs were dealt with and was surprised - when another woman came to help her out at that. And judging by her appearance and attire, it was likely she was another superhero at that. "OH? Uhm, sure. Of course," replied Ice from inside the golem at that. Despite the rebreather she still sounded female at that for Vixen to understand. Then they got another one at that. Namely that being the Flash - the so-called fastest thing alive on Earth. Well, two superheroes in one day, either things were getting better or the situation was just that bad. "Oh. Uhm," muttered Ice, not sure on how to use their powers for that. She only knew how to throw around Ice and not lead people. "We got gangs roaming around this place. Also we got fires in the place. We need to get both under control, in the case it might spread further." "I can handle the fires. We would need somebody to handle the gangs. And thirdly to get the cops here," she spoke, thinking logically in this case. "Some police officers should be around the vicinity - or likely overwhelmed. They are likely the best bet to help keep the citizens safe. Somebody has to go either rally or rescue them, so we have somesort of push against the criminal element running wild here."</s>	<\|message\|>Clark kent "And this will work? I've tried countless combinations, it never quite seems to stick with those of a...higher constitution." The emaiciated figure of Doctor Crane sat hunched over his work station, deep in the Gotham underbelly, once a respected figure on the science of the mind, he had, without a doubt, broken his own. The pursuit of his goals had become absolute, and this presented a bound towards the perfection he yearned for. "Quite certain, the toxin added to the serum should overpower all but a few notable exceptions, but, this is only to be released when instructed." In contrast to the hunched figure of the doctor, the man that stepped out of the shadows was the model of sophistication, a fine tailored suit and dark rimmed glasses of expensive taste. This was the sort of money that required anonymity, not fame. "Of course, of course." The Scarecrow responded, a little too quickly, he grated under the impression of control, but it would be worth it, to have continued access to the hidden substance that amplified his already potent work. "You may thank the Presiden-Elect for his generous investment." He turned to look at the man standing aside from him, a crooked grin spread across his features. The other man only frowned. "You will not repeat that, under any circumstances, or there will be a price to pay." Now The small gathering of heroes, three together at once, seemed to herald the next stage of the chaos that was Gotham City, something equally felt by the mystical mind of one John Constantine. A wave of darkness seemed to pass through the city, unnoticed by those not attuned to the ways of magic, a curse, screamed with uncomparable fear. In the next moment, however, the consequence was more than visible to all. The riots that had swept the city descended further into a violent orgy of paranoid attacks. Roving gangs that had united against the monsters they all saw in the shadows, suddenly turned on each other, seeing the same darkness in their hasty allies. Those police units deploy to maintain order and contain the panic when they could not, found their equipment no defence against whatever new threat attacked them. Soon, the spattering of gunfire in the night air became a blaze, as the National Guard turned on itself. Gradually, in the minds of those capable of perceiving such things, John Constantine among them, the pulse of this new attack brought with it the feverish whispering of words, a sobbing cry, echoing across the pulse of power; Azarath Metrion Zinthos</s>
<\|description\|>Balian Age: 34 Appearance: Balian stands at 5"10, his build is somewhere between slim and lean. Grey eyes chestnut brown hair and face almost always stubbled, his appearance is often seen as striking. His eyes lack life, probably from years spent on the road, only ever stopping for brief respites in towns and villages that he passed. Notable features are a small scar on his chin and skin tested by the elements. Class: Ranger Can handle bladed weapons as well, allowing them to defend themselves against approaching enemies or close in for the kill. Ranged is preferred style of combat. Alignment: Neutral Good Weapon(s): Armor/Clothing: As seen in picture. Also clad in a fine linen shirt, dark woolen hose and soft travel-worn leather boots, over his shirt Balian wears a jerkin secured by braided cord ties Personal Trinkets: Rabbit's foot (Lucky Charm) These take many shapes, but the most common are symbolic religious symbols that a pious priest has touched or carved heads of ancient Gods. The rabbit's foot is a symbol of good luck in many places of the world and is often threaded with a thin cord of leather or string Wooden Flute A simple wooden flute carved by Balian's father. He usually keeps it wrapped in a piece of cloth and kept away. Short History: Born to a master woodsman and a mill worker, Balian was taught from a young age the skills of being a woodsman. Even as a young lad he had a knack for navigation and survival skills. Balian is not shy of hard labor having worked all his young life. He spent all of this younger life in and around the midlands village he was born to, working and training. At age eight he was shown how to use a bow by his father for the first time and took to it like a duck to water, swordplay followed in an effort to teach his son how to defend himself if ever the need arose (as much as he did not want a violent life for Balian). It was in his teens that Balian decided he did not want to suffer the bondage of serfdom or peasantry his whole life but neither did he want the privilege associated with nobility. At age seventeen, Balian left his village starting on a journey to see as much of the world as he could and to live off of the land. Before he left his father presented him with a parting gift a wooden flute carved by himself. Leaving the village of Vale that day was the last time he saw his parents. After some five years travelling, Balian returned to Vale only to discover his father had succumbed to a sudden illness two years previous and his mother so stricken with grief at the loss of her son and now husband had hanged herself in the mill where she worked. With no ties to his birthplace he set off once again after a short respite and since has traveled, stopping from time-to-time for short respites in towns, villages and cities he would come across. He made sure never to allow himself to become too attached to people or towns always making it easier when time came to leave. However, Balian has at least one trusted friend in many of the different steads from South to North, relying on these as his source of information and news when he does stop. For a few years the ranger traveled with another, a woman by the name of Morrigan. Black hair, blue eyes and pale skin, Balian quickly became infatuated with her. During a stay at the village of Lindow they were awoken in the middle of the night by commotion, screams and cries filling the night air. A beastman warband had happened on the village in a raid, Balian pleaded with Morrigan to barricade herself indoors and once she agreed took himself outside into the middle of it all with sword and bow. The ranger was knocked unconscious in combat and when he awoke in the early hours of the morning the smell of burning, smoke and death filled his nostrils. In a daze he made his way to the inn, only to find it raised to the ground. Balian fell to his knees as his cries turned to a sour roar. It is since that day the ranger has taken it upon himself to actively hunt out Beast scouting parties, occasionally joining up with bands of rangers (many of whom share similar stories) to take on larger groups. It is the element of surprise, the ability to blend in with surroundings and that they pick the battlefield (usually woodland), that give Balian and other rangers alike the advantage over unsuspecting beastmen who have often been stalked for days like prey. Balian has been in Galloway only a short few hours although this is not his first visit to the town-stead. He has grown weary of the road and has not stopped in a town for longer than a few hours in months.</s> <\|message\|>Balian Something Wicked This Way Comes So Toll The Bell And Sound The Drums, For Something Wicked This Way Comes... The Journey So Far Location: Galloway (Town-stead) Weather: Dry Time of Day: Dusk Rendezvous: "The Retired Sword" Tavern As dusk comes, the darkest stage of the evening twilight falls over Galloway. The last of the town's merchants and stall vendors leave for the night, many heading to the local taverns or home to the comfort of family and an open fire. The executioner, a gloomy figure drabbed entirely in black, prepares the Gallows for the morning. Three men to be strung up for crimes against the town and borough of Galloway to be disclosed at time of execution to the general public. Lights from candles and gas lanterns begin to fill the windows, on the tighter streets in the town light coming from one window flickers on the walls across the road. It gives an atmospheric feeling while traveling the town. The city guards shift changes leading to a higher presence of guards in the open until it completes. Outside the town walls, woodsmen work late whittling away at the border of the Gallowglade, collecting logs and tolling back and fro, horse and cart dragging the wood back to the town depot. Yeomen, the highest rank any normal peasant can hope to achieve patrol the outskirts of the town on horseback keeping any eye out for anything strange, and questioning those entering or leaving the town. A couple of yeomen also observe the workers, lanterns emitting an eerie glow. The streets soon empty, at least to a level much less busy than during the day. Inside the numerous taverns around town the life of the city continues. Location: The Retired Sword, Galloway Weather: Misty Rain, light winds. Time of Day: Nightfall From the outside, the inn seemed much like the rest of Galloway in appearance. It had been difficult to look through the windows but as you entered through the thick, wooden door; groans welcome you. It's as dreary inside as it is on the out. Hardwood beams support the upper floor and the lanterns attached to them. The walls have a few pictures here and there, though the dust stops you from taking a closer look. Locals seem to be the primary clientele here. The patrons appear dangerous in one way or another, but whoever they are, you'd prefer not to look at them the wrong way, save a fight that would get you locked up in barracks cages until they decide to let you go. You did hear rumors about this tavern, supposedly it's infamous for something, but for the life of you you can't remember what for. Though judging by everything you've seen so far, you don't really care and you probably don't want to know. As night takes hold, the inn has grown full and lively as it dwells further into the night. Our adventurers find themselves either joining the festivities or still awake in the tavern because with all the noise they find themselves unable to sleep. Occasionally the howl of a wolf pierces the ears of the patrons, the sound is chilling but doesn't impede on the festivities. A fog had rolled over the town having been approaching for quite a while giving a completely different atmosphere to the town streets, many of the lanterns no longer burning for another night. Suddenly, it grew quiet as a flock of armored guard, swords, halberds or crossbows at the ready ran down the street past the inn the thudding of their leather boots rushed. One guard passing lit the lanterns hanging outside buildings as they could, but was trying to keep up with his comrades. For whatever reason took them, the adventurers are drawn to it, they approach the door and flood onto the street. Bestiary An accurate record of the beasts and wildlife that the group have encountered since starting their journey.</s> <\|message\|>Balian Location: Galloway (Town-stead) Weather: Dry Time of Day: Dusk Rendezvous: "The Retired Sword" Tavern As dusk comes, the darkest stage of the evening twilight falls over Galloway. The last of the town's merchants and stall vendors leave for the night, many heading to the local taverns or home to the comfort of family and an open fire. The executioner, a gloomy figure drabbed entirely in black, prepares the Gallows for the morning. Three men to be strung up for crimes against the town and borough of Galloway to be disclosed at time of execution to the general public. Lights from candles and gas lanterns begin to fill the windows, on the tighter streets in the town light coming from one window flickers on the walls across the road. It gives an atmospheric feeling while traveling the town. The city guards shift changes leading to a higher presence of guards in the open until it completes. Outside the town walls, woodsmen work late whittling away at the border of the Gallowglade, collecting logs and tolling back and fro, horse and cart dragging the wood back to the town depot. Yeomen, the highest rank any normal peasant can hope to achieve patrol the outskirts of the town on horseback keeping any eye out for anything strange, and questioning those entering or leaving the town. A couple of yeomen also observe the workers, lanterns emitting an eerie glow. The streets soon empty, at least to a level much less busy than during the day. Inside the numerous taverns around town the life of the city continues.</s>	<\|message\|>Balian Balian's previous days travel had taken him along the banks of the river Gallow, a tried, tested and timeless way of ensuring that as long as your not robbed or killed by bandits you'll make it to the town-stead of Galloway. He was not far from one of the two gates granting entrance to the town. Gorse had been spreading in the mild breezes that passed, the very thorny, evergreen bushes had blossomed their second and final abundance of yellow flowers. The ranger had thought about picking a load to flog off to one of the many traders in town, in plenty of towns he had passed over his years of travel the Gorse had been popular among the younger ladies coming into adulthood. However, he decided against it in favor of taking a proper night's rest in the first town he had decided to stay longer than a few hours in months. The sun beginning to set in the sky behind the walls and rooftops of Galloway looked almost picturesque, Balian shaded his eyes bringing a flat palm to his brow as he took in the scene. Taking a moment for a deep breath he hurried onwards, approaching the gate he was pulled away by a familiar voice, "Could it be? Has the midlands ranger returned?" The voice came in jest, the sort you would expect to be greeted with when a catch up with an old friend is long overdue. He turned his head to look at a man maybe a head shorter than Balian, a thin smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Balian, it's been too long." The man spoke as he approached the ranger, arms outspread. "You remember me don't you?" He teased. "How could I forget, Brother." Balian replied, embracing his friend for a moment. These men were not brothers by blood but a bond stronger. "Leon, it's good to see you." "Aye, that it is." Leon replied, "Well, what tales have you to share since… Well it must be near two years by now. And where's the lovely Morrigan you're so fond of?" Leon noticed a sudden, subtle change in Balian's eyes and before he could reply noted, "How about an ale? One thing I've always enjoyed about Galloway is the ale!" With that the ranger found himself relaying through the towns streets, catching up with his old friend. Despite being sunset, the town was still alive, merchants and vendors filled the market, children played games in the side streets while women carried baskets and guards stood at post, ensuring nothing under their eye goes astray. It didn't take the pair long to wind up in front of a dainty tavern. Certainly not the most extravagant tavern in Galloway but in the mind of Leon and Balian, the best. They found themselves sat by a table in a corner by the fire and over two tankards of Galloway Ale chat about anything and everything. Conversation lead on to seemingly unfounded rumors of Beastmen warbands already being this far South. Balian assured Leon that there was no such thing, having come from farther North with no signs of Beast Parties having come past the remains of Lindon yet. The tavern was quiet enough, a few other patrons sat quiet mostly, drinking their ale, contemplating the day coming to a close. Balian looked around nodding in acknowledgement as he made eye contact with one such patron, an older man who hadn't aged well and now spent his days in "The Retired Sword" drinking away memories past. The lighting in the tavern mostly came from the open fire, the sparse gas lanterns had been turned down low and most of the candles remained unlit. He took another drink, emptying his tankard and with his free hand wiped his upper lip of the froth on his lip as he put the tankard down. He took a small satchel and through a few silver crowns onto the table, "Next ones on me." --- Balian sat alone at the table he had been sharing with Leon, who had been rushed off by an associate, business was all the ranger managed to get from the conversation. That was like Leon, and it had been good to catch up with his old friend. It had grown darker outside, dusk had fallen over Galloway and Balian now warm and with a taste for the ale began to feel the fatigue of his journey. There was no doubt that he would be staying in the town at least one night, having secured one of the five guest rooms in the tavern. The warmth of the fire kept the whole tavern warm and the bar had begun fill out with more patrons flocking to it. The lighting in the tavern hadn't changed much yet, there was still not much need. The patrons talked about a lot of things, mostly rumors, Balian discerned from harmlessly eavesdropping into a few of their conversations. Pestilence, Beastmen, Undead. He wondered how much was true, the beastmen of course were not made up but none had made it this far South yet. A pestilence spreading from the east? And the dead rising from their graves? He decided to wave them off as rumors although he knew not to count anything out, and if true, it was times like these that brought out the doomsayers.</s>
<\|description\|>Balian Age: 34 Appearance: Balian stands at 5"10, his build is somewhere between slim and lean. Grey eyes chestnut brown hair and face almost always stubbled, his appearance is often seen as striking. His eyes lack life, probably from years spent on the road, only ever stopping for brief respites in towns and villages that he passed. Notable features are a small scar on his chin and skin tested by the elements. Class: Ranger Can handle bladed weapons as well, allowing them to defend themselves against approaching enemies or close in for the kill. Ranged is preferred style of combat. Alignment: Neutral Good Weapon(s): Armor/Clothing: As seen in picture. Also clad in a fine linen shirt, dark woolen hose and soft travel-worn leather boots, over his shirt Balian wears a jerkin secured by braided cord ties Personal Trinkets: Rabbit's foot (Lucky Charm) These take many shapes, but the most common are symbolic religious symbols that a pious priest has touched or carved heads of ancient Gods. The rabbit's foot is a symbol of good luck in many places of the world and is often threaded with a thin cord of leather or string Wooden Flute A simple wooden flute carved by Balian's father. He usually keeps it wrapped in a piece of cloth and kept away. Short History: Born to a master woodsman and a mill worker, Balian was taught from a young age the skills of being a woodsman. Even as a young lad he had a knack for navigation and survival skills. Balian is not shy of hard labor having worked all his young life. He spent all of this younger life in and around the midlands village he was born to, working and training. At age eight he was shown how to use a bow by his father for the first time and took to it like a duck to water, swordplay followed in an effort to teach his son how to defend himself if ever the need arose (as much as he did not want a violent life for Balian). It was in his teens that Balian decided he did not want to suffer the bondage of serfdom or peasantry his whole life but neither did he want the privilege associated with nobility. At age seventeen, Balian left his village starting on a journey to see as much of the world as he could and to live off of the land. Before he left his father presented him with a parting gift a wooden flute carved by himself. Leaving the village of Vale that day was the last time he saw his parents. After some five years travelling, Balian returned to Vale only to discover his father had succumbed to a sudden illness two years previous and his mother so stricken with grief at the loss of her son and now husband had hanged herself in the mill where she worked. With no ties to his birthplace he set off once again after a short respite and since has traveled, stopping from time-to-time for short respites in towns, villages and cities he would come across. He made sure never to allow himself to become too attached to people or towns always making it easier when time came to leave. However, Balian has at least one trusted friend in many of the different steads from South to North, relying on these as his source of information and news when he does stop. For a few years the ranger traveled with another, a woman by the name of Morrigan. Black hair, blue eyes and pale skin, Balian quickly became infatuated with her. During a stay at the village of Lindow they were awoken in the middle of the night by commotion, screams and cries filling the night air. A beastman warband had happened on the village in a raid, Balian pleaded with Morrigan to barricade herself indoors and once she agreed took himself outside into the middle of it all with sword and bow. The ranger was knocked unconscious in combat and when he awoke in the early hours of the morning the smell of burning, smoke and death filled his nostrils. In a daze he made his way to the inn, only to find it raised to the ground. Balian fell to his knees as his cries turned to a sour roar. It is since that day the ranger has taken it upon himself to actively hunt out Beast scouting parties, occasionally joining up with bands of rangers (many of whom share similar stories) to take on larger groups. It is the element of surprise, the ability to blend in with surroundings and that they pick the battlefield (usually woodland), that give Balian and other rangers alike the advantage over unsuspecting beastmen who have often been stalked for days like prey. Balian has been in Galloway only a short few hours although this is not his first visit to the town-stead. He has grown weary of the road and has not stopped in a town for longer than a few hours in months.</s> <\|message\|>Aelrath Teasen'rretyn Aelrath was making his way through town avoiding areas with large amounts of people. He knew how elves were treated and also knew that being half-human didn't make a difference as far as most people were concerned. Even with his hood there was a possibility it would shift in a way that would reveal his pointed ears. He needed a place to stay while he looked for the mage who was supposed to be in town, learning new mid to high difficulty spells took more than a day or two. He came to a stop outside a blacksmith's shop, he had not had a chance to temper and repair swords in over a week and fighting bandits on the way didn't help their condition. "Sorry to disturb you at this late hour but I was wondering if I could use your forge. I am willing to compensate you for your trouble," Aelrath said to the shop owner as he spoke he pulled out a handful of coins and laid them on the counter. "Yae ken use ma forge jus don burn da place down, eh mate?" The large man behind the counter said with a smile. Aelrath went to the back and was quickly absorbed in his work. Aelrath was polishing his swords when he heard the sound of the guards rushing through the streets. He considered staying put or looking for a place to stay but his curiosity won over. Plus, he figured that if there was a battle the mage he had come to seek out would appear. He quickly sheathed his swords and ran after the guards, he stuck to the shadows and used a wind element spell to lighten his footsteps so as to draw less attention. @SmileyJaws@Mesonyx@XenoCyanide</s> <\|message\|>Artemis Snowscar --- There was something comforting and hypnotic in sharpening blades. The constant, rhythmic sssshhk of the whetstone as it glided across the edge of his dirks sang him a lullaby. He found no sleep that night for the raucous in the main lobby was something of a bother. He wasn't overly worried about it, however, as he appreciated the time to sit and think. It had been a while since he had the respite of a warm bed within four walls. When you expected a cloaked figure to place a blade across your throat in the middle of the night, a deep and peaceful sleep is hard to come by in the wilderness. He had just looked at his maps, deciding where his next destination would be. So deep within his own mind he was that he barely noticed that the noise below had subsided. Lifting his head, he listened more intently. He could make out the scratching of plate and leather as they rubbed up against each other in a rhythm. The sound men made as they hurried in arms to wherever they were needed. He tried to discern how many of them there were but the noise was so chaotic, it was hard to tell. This intrigued him, as such a show of force was only necessary against a real threat and not some thief in the night. Rubbing the length of the blade on his dirks, he placed them back into the makeshift scabbards embedded in his waist sash. He then reached over and grasped his longsword, drawing the cords around his midsection and tightening it expertly. He thought a moment, deciding whether it was the most prudent move to grab his crossbow. If his past experience has taught him anything, is that there is never a wrong time for a ranged weapon and so he slung the bolts over his shoulder, letting the case rest at his mid-back and at a slight angle. The crossbow itself dangled in what appeared to be a three-point sling, and slid neatly back near his latissimus dorsi. He had taken off his regular clothing in favor of his armor after seeing several more guards rushing with what appeared to be purpose. Something was definitely wrong, and he would take no chances here. No way in hell he was dying in some backwater township. Strapping on his gambeson, mail and leather, and light-weight plates at his shoulders and forearms, he proceeded out of the tavern. Instead of following the road, however, he found an easy access to the wooden roofs of the town, making note of which were thatched and not to guide his footing. His hand hovered over his crossbow as he peered into the distance where the guards were running, his other hand resting gently on the hilt of his sword, lifting it so as to not scrape any surface with the tip. He kept his profile low and his stride was deadly quiet. As he skulked through the rooftops of the town, making his way towards the commotion, his mind could not help but wander to the possibilities. Had he finally found the dreaded beasts?</s> <\|message\|>Bjørn Ulfrikson --- With a tankard in his hand and his feet almost in the fire of the hearth in an attempt to dry his boots, Bjørn found himself satisfied for the day. He allowed a sigh to pass his lips before gulping down some ale, licking the remains out of his moustache. - Yes. These were the things he really appreciated after a long day of work. His arms had longed stopped aching from having gotten used to hard work, and his hands had gotten accustomed to the sting of wooden splinters from carrying around wooden logs all day. Still, it was work that had to be done and he was happy to help out and earn himself a drink and a warm plate at the end of the day. Slowly the sound of laughing, shouting, and singing had died down within the tavern as a group of armed men rushed by. Interested, some around him had gotten up to get to the window, trying to peer through it to see what was going on outside. Soon enough the mumbling started as people were beginning to assume things. One said something about bandits, another spoke of wolves, until everyone had another vague story about what was happening. More than once, however, beasts were mentioned. Easily drawn to battle, the idea that something was going on somewhere in or around town had Bjørn strangely excited. He had been looking over the rim of his drinking cup, staring out of the window where the last guard now quickly passed by, trying to keep up with his mates. Had it not been for the ale that now spilled past his lips, quickly dripping down his beard and onto his lap, he would've still been staring at that very same spot, waiting for something else to happen. Instead it made him snap out of it, cursing under his breath as he quickly wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Having decided that he wouldn't sit here while elsewhere there was chaos, so he rose to his full height, gulping down the remaining ale while his other hand was already resting on his axe. He ached for battle. He ached for danger. Slamming the tankard down, he then quickly made his way outside, pushing through the crowd and probably causing one or two patrons to get knocked off of their chairs. Not on purpose, might I say. As Bjørn left the warmth of the tavern behind, stepping out into the night, he could see some others leaving the building. He could just catch the glimpse of a man, whose face was hidden beneath his hood, pass by him. There was little attention paid to him as there were other matters on Ulfrikson's mind. He had to catch up with those guards. Though disliking it very much - which was still an understatement - he started to march down the road, following the path which he assumed the guards had taken. His heavy steps could be heard from a mile away as he continued his way through the labyrinth that was Galloway. Luckily he wasn't the only one who seemed to be tracking the men, for he soon decided to follow yet another cloaked figure. - What was it with these cloaks, though? Bjørn couldn't imagine a comfortable situation while running around with a hood pulled over your head which had to be sliding up and down, or wherever it decided to go, obstructing the wearer's sight. Or he just didn't know how to properly wear a cloak.</s>	<\|message\|>Balian The guards running down the street in force, lighting lanterns, it all seemed so ominous. With the sleeve of his shirt he wiped dust from the window peering out, the room was dark he could see the guards as they ran past below him, one almost saw him hanging back lighting lanterns but ultimately made his way to find his mates. Balian took up his bow and sword throwing his jerkin on over making his way across the small room, key in hand he opened the door he could hear other patrons coming. He jogged down the stairs and spotted the girl he'd seen around the tavern earlier, scarf pulled over her ears he followed suit. Once on the street he watched as a few others from the tavern had made their way outside, a tall man, his cloak askew caught Balian's attention and he made his way over, placing the back of his hand on the cloaked male as he made his way up beside him, "What's going on?" He asked, within earshot of the barmaid. - Eventually catching up to the guards by the eastern wall they stood, scattered among the market stalls that littered the plaza. "Beasts!" One of the guards yelled before the clatter of sword on axe rang through the bazaar. Balian tried to spot how many were around but it had grown dark, the clouds shifted and the moon lit up the ladder against the wall, another hoofed figure, cloaked climbed over. "Up there!" He yelled, gesturing slinging his jerkin on he mounted his sword and notched an arrow, he loosed it and hit the beast in but it kept going, undeterred by the marksman. In order to know how many there truly were they'd have to get up on the wall and have a look over, who knew how many waited beyond the wall although Balian had his guess from their appearance and behavior that it was a small raiding party, probably around twenty or so. He dashed for the stairs that lead up to the battlements. Climbing them he found himself face to face with the beast he'd struck with an arrow. Balian took a few cautious steps backwards drawing his sword, both hands on the hilt, he tightened his grip in the slight hesitation. Trying to glance between the embrasure did little good, he was not at the right place to get a good look at the attackers, from the sounds below however a few had already made their way into the town, probably not expecting to get caught. Balian was charged and raised his sword parrying the blow of an axe, he had nearly crumpled under it, nearly forgetting their brute strength. The fight went back and forth for a couple of minutes, but neither one could land the blow. The ranger found himself backed into a corner, he looked down upon impending doom and scowled before with all his might kicking the beast in the guttural area. He'd almost lost his own balance, catching himself the beast was left open having had to regain it's own footing. It was quick, the lunge that brought about the end, the blade of the sword swallowed whole by the creature's throat. Balian pulled his weapon free as the beast hit the ground and had spotted two more coming down the battlements, he cursed and retreated down the steps back to the bazarr, looking around for any of his fellow adventurers or guards.</s>
<\|description\|>Artemis Snowscar Age: 28 Appearance: Class: Infiltrator Handles bladed weapons very well and is an accurate marksman with a crossbow. Preference is to flank the enemy, attacking weak points. Employs dirty tactics to win fights. Utilizes subterfuge, obfuscation, and alchemy to achieve his goals. Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (True Neutral Inclinations) Weapon(s): Armor/Clothing: The attire worn is usually either leather or hide for ease of movement, with metallic plates over his shoulders and forearms to provide protection and deflection. Only employs a mask when on a hunt, which otherwise he wears the clothing of the local populace to better blend in. Personal trinkets: Wedding Band Short History: Artemis was born on the eastern edge of Mournhold along the banks of a river. It was a small hamlet comprised of simple people with simple lives. His father was a learned man with a trouble past and decided to make Coolwater his home, perhaps running from tragedy. His mother was a seamstress while his father took care of the hamlet's more political machinations, acting as a liaison between the crown and the town. He held no true political office, but being one of the few men who could read, write, and orate in the town, the burden laid on him. His father had a hidden flaw, however. He was a gambler, and a bad one at that. His addiction is one of the things he was running from, but one night when soldiers from the crown were passing through from one township to another, he took to the drink, and took to the cards. It wasn't long before he had lost everything. His home. His wife's business. Even his station. Worst of all, he lost his son. Artemis was only ten years old, still a child at heart. He wanted nothing more than to run amongst the cornfields, play soldier with his friends, and get weirded out by the young girls who would tease him. It was a time where the kingdom needed to bolster its ranks, fearing retribution from neighboring warbands and raiding parties, these soldiers were tasked with searching for capable men and women. Thrown into a cage like some beast, he was hauled away to a weeping mother and a distraught father. He would never see them again and learned years later that his mother took her own life, walking into the river that bore them so much life and drowning herself and his father never woke up one day from a night of drink. It has been so long he had forgotten their names and their faces. For the next eight years Artemis was in the service of the crown, being taught everything from stabling horses to sword play. He was a rebellious boy at first, ashamed and afraid of being torn away from the only life that he knew, but slowly over time, began to accept his life for what it was: Fodder for a king he never met to a kingdom he didn't understand. It wasn't long before those in charge of him noticed that Artemis embodied a certain quality about him. He didn't stand out. He was never at the top of his class nor at the bottom. Those that paid attention, however, saw that he was exceptional with the blade, but lost duels on purpose. His looks were unremarkable and he wasn't the largest of men. Unimposing, even. A lieutenant took notice of the boy and took him before another man. Artemis learned never to be frightened by mortal flesh, for all that bleeds can die. But this man unnerved him. Something about him just seemed… off. The next several years were steeped in darkness. He was taught to blend in. Manipulate. Coerce. Prepare alchemical concoctions to paralyze or to kill. When he was deemed ready, he was given to task. At first, they were innocent enough. Befriend a local merchant or eavesdrop on a conversation in a tavern. All with the purpose of gaining information. Of course, innocence never lasts, and the darker part of his life began to take form. Steel would enter flesh, silently as a whisper in the wind. Blood would spill across wooden floors, never to creak and betray his existence to the world. This is who he was. That is, even a man such as he can find love. Mournhold was hell embodied to Artemis. His entire life he saw nothing but the worst of man. Pedophiles and rapists, running from the crown, would not run very far. Corrupt politicians with the proclivity towards sadism, using their connections to keep from the executioner's axe, mysteriously died in their sleep, comfortable under silken sheets in their mansions. In all of this, Artemis found her. Raven-haired Victoria, with a smile that could cut even the thickest of chains and a touch that would woo the soul of the most berserked man. In secret they married as he feared his employer would disapprove and their disapproval usually meant that one was not long for this world. In the end it wasn't the Crown that betrayed his heart. It was these… beastman. Victoria had convinced Artemis to visit his childhood home, having used some excuse as to why he had left in the first place. Perhaps he went to find solace and peace with his past but all he could muster was the venom against his father. His father, a man so deeply pained, killed his wife and lost his only son, and couldn't even be man enough to do something about it. Upon his return, Artemis was met with ruin. Buildings smoldering and crushed bodies. Soldiers sifting through the debris, either trying to find survivors or looking to plunder whatever meager riches these peasants had. Something broke inside of Artemis that day. Whatever demons he compartmentalized away throughout the years began to break free, that delicate wall he had built cracking under the pressure. This was almost a year ago. Ever since, he has been running and hunting. His main objective was to be a culling. The very apocalypse in which these beastman fear. It was in every town he went to, not beastman to kill, but men and women with such evil hearts and black souls. Retribution was not far behind. Gear: * Waterskin * Rope * Firestriker * Whetstone * Carving knife * Bedroll * Alchemical Bag</s> <\|message\|>Balian Location: The Retired Sword, Galloway Weather: Misty Rain, light winds. Time of Day: Nightfall From the outside, the inn seemed much like the rest of Galloway in appearance. It had been difficult to look through the windows but as you entered through the thick, wooden door; groans welcome you. It's as dreary inside as it is on the out. Hardwood beams support the upper floor and the lanterns attached to them. The walls have a few pictures here and there, though the dust stops you from taking a closer look. Locals seem to be the primary clientele here. The patrons appear dangerous in one way or another, but whoever they are, you'd prefer not to look at them the wrong way, save a fight that would get you locked up in barracks cages until they decide to let you go. You did hear rumors about this tavern, supposedly it's infamous for something, but for the life of you you can't remember what for. Though judging by everything you've seen so far, you don't really care and you probably don't want to know. As night takes hold, the inn has grown full and lively as it dwells further into the night. Our adventurers find themselves either joining the festivities or still awake in the tavern because with all the noise they find themselves unable to sleep. Occasionally the howl of a wolf pierces the ears of the patrons, the sound is chilling but doesn't impede on the festivities. A fog had rolled over the town having been approaching for quite a while giving a completely different atmosphere to the town streets, many of the lanterns no longer burning for another night. Suddenly, it grew quiet as a flock of armored guard, swords, halberds or crossbows at the ready ran down the street past the inn the thudding of their leather boots rushed. One guard passing lit the lanterns hanging outside buildings as they could, but was trying to keep up with his comrades. For whatever reason took them, the adventurers are drawn to it, they approach the door and flood onto the street.</s> <\|message\|>Evaline Summerfall Evaline Summerfall Evaline was alone in the now empty tavern, sweeping floors, wiping down tables and cleaning dishes. The rain began to patter on this windows as she was setting up the trays for the tenants breakfast. She stopped for a moment and just listened to the rain. She began humming a lullaby to herself, one that her mother used to sing to her on rainy nights. It was an old elven one that isn't sung very often, especially among men but, Evaline didn't see any harm in it as no one else was around. In the distance she heard the sounds of several footsteps heading her way. She peeked her head outside the door and saw armed guards running down the street. Evaline quickly ran down to her room and dressed in her cloak with all her essentials at hand, her scarf still wrapped neatly around her ears. She heard the footsteps of some of the tenants above her as well but, didn't pay it any mind, she had to know what was going on. Evaline scurried up the stairs to the tavern and slipped out the door as the last guard went along lighting lanterns as he went. She looked down the road the way they came, seeing heads peak out of doorways then quickly slip inside their homes. She pulled the hood of the cloak over her head to see through the rain and quietly followed in the shadows where the guards were headed. She glanced back at the tavern and saw a few others leaving it then continued to follow, watching and listening. Something inside her told her this was important, maybe she would learn something of the whereabouts of her mother or, perhaps someone was injured or would be injured and she could assist in that way.</s> <\|message\|>Aelrath Teasen'rretyn Aelrath was making his way through town avoiding areas with large amounts of people. He knew how elves were treated and also knew that being half-human didn't make a difference as far as most people were concerned. Even with his hood there was a possibility it would shift in a way that would reveal his pointed ears. He needed a place to stay while he looked for the mage who was supposed to be in town, learning new mid to high difficulty spells took more than a day or two. He came to a stop outside a blacksmith's shop, he had not had a chance to temper and repair swords in over a week and fighting bandits on the way didn't help their condition. "Sorry to disturb you at this late hour but I was wondering if I could use your forge. I am willing to compensate you for your trouble," Aelrath said to the shop owner as he spoke he pulled out a handful of coins and laid them on the counter. "Yae ken use ma forge jus don burn da place down, eh mate?" The large man behind the counter said with a smile. Aelrath went to the back and was quickly absorbed in his work. Aelrath was polishing his swords when he heard the sound of the guards rushing through the streets. He considered staying put or looking for a place to stay but his curiosity won over. Plus, he figured that if there was a battle the mage he had come to seek out would appear. He quickly sheathed his swords and ran after the guards, he stuck to the shadows and used a wind element spell to lighten his footsteps so as to draw less attention. @SmileyJaws@Mesonyx@XenoCyanide</s>	<\|message\|>Artemis Snowscar There was something comforting and hypnotic in sharpening blades. The constant, rhythmic sssshhk of the whetstone as it glided across the edge of his dirks sang him a lullaby. He found no sleep that night for the raucous in the main lobby was something of a bother. He wasn't overly worried about it, however, as he appreciated the time to sit and think. It had been a while since he had the respite of a warm bed within four walls. When you expected a cloaked figure to place a blade across your throat in the middle of the night, a deep and peaceful sleep is hard to come by in the wilderness. He had just looked at his maps, deciding where his next destination would be. So deep within his own mind he was that he barely noticed that the noise below had subsided. Lifting his head, he listened more intently. He could make out the scratching of plate and leather as they rubbed up against each other in a rhythm. The sound men made as they hurried in arms to wherever they were needed. He tried to discern how many of them there were but the noise was so chaotic, it was hard to tell. This intrigued him, as such a show of force was only necessary against a real threat and not some thief in the night. Rubbing the length of the blade on his dirks, he placed them back into the makeshift scabbards embedded in his waist sash. He then reached over and grasped his longsword, drawing the cords around his midsection and tightening it expertly. He thought a moment, deciding whether it was the most prudent move to grab his crossbow. If his past experience has taught him anything, is that there is never a wrong time for a ranged weapon and so he slung the bolts over his shoulder, letting the case rest at his mid-back and at a slight angle. The crossbow itself dangled in what appeared to be a three-point sling, and slid neatly back near his latissimus dorsi. He had taken off his regular clothing in favor of his armor after seeing several more guards rushing with what appeared to be purpose. Something was definitely wrong, and he would take no chances here. No way in hell he was dying in some backwater township. Strapping on his gambeson, mail and leather, and light-weight plates at his shoulders and forearms, he proceeded out of the tavern. Instead of following the road, however, he found an easy access to the wooden roofs of the town, making note of which were thatched and not to guide his footing. His hand hovered over his crossbow as he peered into the distance where the guards were running, his other hand resting gently on the hilt of his sword, lifting it so as to not scrape any surface with the tip. He kept his profile low and his stride was deadly quiet. As he skulked through the rooftops of the town, making his way towards the commotion, his mind could not help but wander to the possibilities. Had he finally found the dreaded beasts?</s>
<\|description\|>Bjørn Ulfrikson Age: 41 yo Appearance: Bjørn Ulfrikson, 6'2" tall and padded with muscle, is a tough looking creature. His brown manes - which includes his beard - show the first traces of grey, much against his liking. His eerily cold eye, its colour best described as colourless or pale, is often fixated on either ale or an attractive individual - most probably ale, while his other eye lays hidden beneath a thick, ugly scar which was the result of a dispute with the local guardsmen. The sides of his skull are shaved and decorated with black - slightly faded - ink which creeps down his neck where it continues to flow over his shoulders, down his arms and towards his hands. The lines often interrupted by thick scars and scrapes from battle and brawls. Class: Berserker; The Berserker is a character who throws himself into a fight with such reckless abandon, it almost seems a death wish. It could be over-enthusiasm, overconfidence, or an unstoppable, blinding rage that fuels him. Berserkers are equally capable of being good or evil, but almost always chaotic in their ways. They regularly have to be reminded by their teammates to control themselves after a particularly close call. The berserkr of Viking-age Scandinavia: Warriors who are said to have thrown themselves into battle wearing only animal hides for armour and with no regard for their own safety. Their 'battle-madness', whose exact nature is presently unknown (some say it came from eating weird mushrooms before a battle) is said to have been a gift from the Gods. The word "berserkr" means "Bear-shirt" in Old Norse, referring to either their going into battle with the ferocity of bears or for wearing bear pelts into battle. Their effectiveness in battle is up for debate, but they were an imposing and terrifying nightmare to the continental Europeans — and, if The Icelandic Sagas are to be trusted, to their own civilization. 'His men rushed forwards without armour, were as mad as dogs or wolves, bit their shields, and were strong as bears or wild oxen, and killed people at a blow, but neither fire nor iron told upon them.' Snorri Sturluson (1179–1241) Ynglinga saga Alignment: Chaotically Neutral Weapon(s): He'll carry with him his beloved axe, also used to chop wood whenever in need of a campfire, which he forged himself at the beginning of his journey. Found in his other hand - when not an ale - or on his back, he has a wooden, round shield which has seen better days and is in dire need of a repair or replacement. Hanging from his belt he'll also have a sharp, dagger-like knife which he uses to skin animals with, or - whenever needed - serves as a useful weapon against his enemies. Armor/Clothing: For battle, or quests, during colder months, he wears a sleeveless mail shirt formed of interlinked, riveted rings. It's mostly covered by thick furs and skins to make Bjørn look even broader than he already is. He'll have a bear-skin draped over his shoulder, its head sown on wolf-pelt to create a warm hood and rather disturbing sight. During the warmer months, however, he wears a loin-cloth'like piece of dark fabric, underneath which - when not too warm - a tight pair of pants with leather boots and around his waist a massive gut belt, also functioning as armour to protect some of his vital organs. He'll always dress to impress, having to seem intimidating in a way. So he'll most likely carry furs or animal bones with him to create such illusion. Personal trinkets: * Personal + Father's ring; given to him by his uncle after the fire. + Grizzly claw; hanging from his neck he displays the claws of a massive beast, the same creature once owned the thick fur that now hangs from Bjørn's shoulder. * Functional + Knife (Weapon + Tool) + Axe (Weapon + Tool) + Whetstone + Flint and Steel + Tinder + Waterskin; most probably filled with an alcoholic beverage Short History: Bjørn was born and raised in a mountainous township which was well-known for mining. His parents had raised him in a strict way and hoped he'd one day would take over his father's mining company, but after years they gave up on that idea. Young Bjørn just wasn't great student and had no interest in maths or economy. His interest laid beyond the safe walls of his home. He had always dreamt of being an adventurer, or a soldier serving the crown. He wanted to explore and help people out, but his parents didn't approve. One day when Bjørn was fifteen years of age, the king's men came to inspect his father's mining business, like they did often. There was always trouble between the king and his dad. The crown demanded a lower price, but his father had declined. They had lowered the price three times already that year. But his refusal had been the last straw. The young Bjørn was helping out at the mines when he saw the flames arising from his home. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, but when he arrived his home had already been devoured by flames and his parents buried beneath the embers. Bjørn grew a hatred towards the men who carried with them the king's sigil. He had realised that day that there was nothing lawful about them. His uncle let him live with him and his wife, they raised him like he was one of their own. His uncle had been a worker in the mines and took his father's position while teaching Bjørn the ropes of mining itself. He grew older and stronger in the dark, picking stone until his muscles ached, day-after-day. Then one morning he said his goodbyes, leaving his home to seek the men who had taken his parents from him. Of course, too many years had passed for him to find them. Their faces had faded from his memory and their traces disappeared over time. He wasn't in peace, but he decided that helping others out would at least ease the still aching pain. Now traveling the land, he helps out wherever he can; keeping trade-routes safe, farmers who need an extra hand during the harvest, and more. These days, while being in the area, he spends his hours drinking and brawling with the local louts at 'The Retired Sword'. Personality: Bjørn Ulfrikson lives up to his name; he's a musclebound goliath of great proportions. He's large, a little hairy and richly decorated with ink.. - Did I mention that he's large? With his axe in one hand and a mug of ale in the other, he's often found causing havoc in taverns and other places of merriment. This bulky character is easily the brains of the group due to his vast knowledge of shapes and colours. - Okay, he's clearly the muscle and not one to be trusted with difficult decision making. His intelligence has proven problematic in the past; Violence is his preferred approach. Quick and easy. But don't get fooled by those bulky arms and intimidating gaze. This ale-loving man could easily become your best friend. He's as loyal as a dog and would never leave someone behind. This (surprisingly huggable) giant's laughter could warm the coldest of hearts and he has proven himself to be more compassionate than people, and he himself, expect him to be. He has a good sense of right and wrong and serves justice as he deems fit, which might not always be the lawful way.</s> <\|message\|>Aelrath Teasen'rretyn Aelrath was making his way through town avoiding areas with large amounts of people. He knew how elves were treated and also knew that being half-human didn't make a difference as far as most people were concerned. Even with his hood there was a possibility it would shift in a way that would reveal his pointed ears. He needed a place to stay while he looked for the mage who was supposed to be in town, learning new mid to high difficulty spells took more than a day or two. He came to a stop outside a blacksmith's shop, he had not had a chance to temper and repair swords in over a week and fighting bandits on the way didn't help their condition. "Sorry to disturb you at this late hour but I was wondering if I could use your forge. I am willing to compensate you for your trouble," Aelrath said to the shop owner as he spoke he pulled out a handful of coins and laid them on the counter. "Yae ken use ma forge jus don burn da place down, eh mate?" The large man behind the counter said with a smile. Aelrath went to the back and was quickly absorbed in his work. Aelrath was polishing his swords when he heard the sound of the guards rushing through the streets. He considered staying put or looking for a place to stay but his curiosity won over. Plus, he figured that if there was a battle the mage he had come to seek out would appear. He quickly sheathed his swords and ran after the guards, he stuck to the shadows and used a wind element spell to lighten his footsteps so as to draw less attention. @SmileyJaws@Mesonyx@XenoCyanide</s> <\|message\|>Artemis Snowscar --- There was something comforting and hypnotic in sharpening blades. The constant, rhythmic sssshhk of the whetstone as it glided across the edge of his dirks sang him a lullaby. He found no sleep that night for the raucous in the main lobby was something of a bother. He wasn't overly worried about it, however, as he appreciated the time to sit and think. It had been a while since he had the respite of a warm bed within four walls. When you expected a cloaked figure to place a blade across your throat in the middle of the night, a deep and peaceful sleep is hard to come by in the wilderness. He had just looked at his maps, deciding where his next destination would be. So deep within his own mind he was that he barely noticed that the noise below had subsided. Lifting his head, he listened more intently. He could make out the scratching of plate and leather as they rubbed up against each other in a rhythm. The sound men made as they hurried in arms to wherever they were needed. He tried to discern how many of them there were but the noise was so chaotic, it was hard to tell. This intrigued him, as such a show of force was only necessary against a real threat and not some thief in the night. Rubbing the length of the blade on his dirks, he placed them back into the makeshift scabbards embedded in his waist sash. He then reached over and grasped his longsword, drawing the cords around his midsection and tightening it expertly. He thought a moment, deciding whether it was the most prudent move to grab his crossbow. If his past experience has taught him anything, is that there is never a wrong time for a ranged weapon and so he slung the bolts over his shoulder, letting the case rest at his mid-back and at a slight angle. The crossbow itself dangled in what appeared to be a three-point sling, and slid neatly back near his latissimus dorsi. He had taken off his regular clothing in favor of his armor after seeing several more guards rushing with what appeared to be purpose. Something was definitely wrong, and he would take no chances here. No way in hell he was dying in some backwater township. Strapping on his gambeson, mail and leather, and light-weight plates at his shoulders and forearms, he proceeded out of the tavern. Instead of following the road, however, he found an easy access to the wooden roofs of the town, making note of which were thatched and not to guide his footing. His hand hovered over his crossbow as he peered into the distance where the guards were running, his other hand resting gently on the hilt of his sword, lifting it so as to not scrape any surface with the tip. He kept his profile low and his stride was deadly quiet. As he skulked through the rooftops of the town, making his way towards the commotion, his mind could not help but wander to the possibilities. Had he finally found the dreaded beasts?</s>	<\|message\|>Bjørn Ulfrikson With a tankard in his hand and his feet almost in the fire of the hearth in an attempt to dry his boots, Bjørn found himself satisfied for the day. He allowed a sigh to pass his lips before gulping down some ale, licking the remains out of his moustache. - Yes. These were the things he really appreciated after a long day of work. His arms had longed stopped aching from having gotten used to hard work, and his hands had gotten accustomed to the sting of wooden splinters from carrying around wooden logs all day. Still, it was work that had to be done and he was happy to help out and earn himself a drink and a warm plate at the end of the day. Slowly the sound of laughing, shouting, and singing had died down within the tavern as a group of armed men rushed by. Interested, some around him had gotten up to get to the window, trying to peer through it to see what was going on outside. Soon enough the mumbling started as people were beginning to assume things. One said something about bandits, another spoke of wolves, until everyone had another vague story about what was happening. More than once, however, beasts were mentioned. Easily drawn to battle, the idea that something was going on somewhere in or around town had Bjørn strangely excited. He had been looking over the rim of his drinking cup, staring out of the window where the last guard now quickly passed by, trying to keep up with his mates. Had it not been for the ale that now spilled past his lips, quickly dripping down his beard and onto his lap, he would've still been staring at that very same spot, waiting for something else to happen. Instead it made him snap out of it, cursing under his breath as he quickly wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Having decided that he wouldn't sit here while elsewhere there was chaos, so he rose to his full height, gulping down the remaining ale while his other hand was already resting on his axe. He ached for battle. He ached for danger. Slamming the tankard down, he then quickly made his way outside, pushing through the crowd and probably causing one or two patrons to get knocked off of their chairs. Not on purpose, might I say. As Bjørn left the warmth of the tavern behind, stepping out into the night, he could see some others leaving the building. He could just catch the glimpse of a man, whose face was hidden beneath his hood, pass by him. There was little attention paid to him as there were other matters on Ulfrikson's mind. He had to catch up with those guards. Though disliking it very much - which was still an understatement - he started to march down the road, following the path which he assumed the guards had taken. His heavy steps could be heard from a mile away as he continued his way through the labyrinth that was Galloway. Luckily he wasn't the only one who seemed to be tracking the men, for he soon decided to follow yet another cloaked figure. - What was it with these cloaks, though? Bjørn couldn't imagine a comfortable situation while running around with a hood pulled over your head which had to be sliding up and down, or wherever it decided to go, obstructing the wearer's sight. Or he just didn't know how to properly wear a cloak.</s>
<\|description\|>Kyle Lucidius Age: 33 Gender: Male Appearance: Kyle stands at five feet eleven inches and weighs approximately 170 pounds. He has a beard which he keeps trimmed neatly and short, brown hair. He has no visible scars on his face, but his torso is marred with them. From bullet holes to slashes to burns, a chronicle of his past horrors detailed on his body. Personality: Kyle is, for all intents and purposes, a loner. He is quiet most of the time but when he speaks, his tone is even and does not betray emotion. He is of incredible constitution, both mentally and physically, and one of the reasons why he was chosen for his particular occupation. He harbors no ill will towards those that are Touched but this does not mean that they do not haunt him. When alone, he relives every murder. Background: Born into a world that fears what it doesn't understand, Kyle was raised with fear and suspicion. His parents instilled this distrust in him at an early age as it was law to report any suspicious persons who may have been Touched. For this reason Kyle did not make many friends while he was growing up, preferring instead the company of long-dead poets and authors. In an attempt to escape his condemned life, he joined the military and in his naivety, hoped to understand the world. This eventually led to his recruitment into their special forces where he learned many things from marksmanship to stealth but most importantly, he learned how to disconnect from killing. After he completed his tour of duty, he had no prospects in the civilian sector. His skills were not something many employers wanted. One decision when he was younger marked him for the rest of his life as nothing more than a trigger man so that is what he became. Enlisting into the services of a private organization, charged with the contract of finding, detaining, or eliminating the Touched, this has been his life for the past year. It wasn't with some irony that he himself would begin to manifest his own powers. Whether they were latent within him from birth or the fates deciding to punish him for his chosen life he did not know. However, his greatest challenge laid ahead. He will eventually be hunted himself and those that he hunted in the past will soon become his allies... or worse. Abilities: * Telekinesis * Pyrokinesis * Psychometry Weapon(s): * Ka-Bar Military Knife * SRSA1 Stealth Recon Scout Sniper Rifle * Springfield XD-S 4" .45ACP</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: Motel Time: 2:25 A.M. --- Is there a God? I wonder if anyone still believes in that cruel, vile son of a bitch. He stared at the end table, eyeing the empty glass. The motel was dark aside from the meager light that shined from a desk lamp that had all but one bulb burnt out. He sat at the edge of that uncomfortable bed, elbows resting on his thighs. The dingy interior of this motel was nothing short of decrepit but on the upside he still hasn't found any roaches. He didn't blink for quite some time, idly rubbing his hands together. He wondered many things throughout his life, but one question kept resurfacing as of late. The irony of it all. He reached between his legs and unscrewed the cap off the bottle. Jameson was his go-to drink. It burned enough to still let him know this wasn't all a dream. Funny as it was, it grounded him. It forced him to accept his fate even tho try as he might to escape it. Pouring himself two-fingers worth in the glass, he returned the bottle back onto the floor. He knew he still had a job to do, the files placed neatly in the brown folder next to him. He sighed, clutching the glass like it was his lifeline. Staring deep into the abyss of the bottom of that glass, he pondered a thought. I wonder who they will send after me. Reyes? Oscar? That sadistic fuck Benson? The prospect of it almost didn't seem real, but that burn definitely was. Taking the glass to his lips, he threw it back into his throat. The next step was the set-up. The preparation was complete. He knew the target. Memorized the face. Oh, the faces. They never went away. They never will, will they? For he is the messenger of God, sent to strike fear into the hearts of those who oppose him. With great fury will the sword strike against the wicked and condemned. The biblical God no longer existed. It didn't need to. The dredges of humanity have definitely taken up the mantle, hiding behind their suits and ties and mahogany desks. For now, though, he was the force behind the sword. He gathered his things for the night ahead. He wore regular street clothes. A t-shirt he found at Spencers of some band he never heard of laid over by a gray zip-up hoodie. His jeans were that retro faded crap he saw people wearing at times. The only thing functional were his boots, which he hid with the hem of his pants. He holstered his pistol at his side and placed a switchblade knife into his pocket. Funny story about that switchblade. Took it off some punk who wanted his wallet a few nights prior. Suppose he should've thanked him as opposed to break his jaw. His traditional Ka-Bar knife was far too conspicuous in this outfit. He placed the files into a briefcase that sat at the edge of his bed and zipped up his go-bag. One last look around the motel, he headed out the door. --- Location: City Streets Time: 2:48 A.M. --- The city was quiet tonight. He couldn't hear the yelling bouncing off the old, brick buildings of kids who would surely skip class the next day. Not even the cabs hauling their drunk patrons or spouses from their night of infidelity were out in abundance. There was something in the air tonight, Kyle could feel it. He had grown to have a sense about these things. A preternatural "sixth sense", as it were. He kept his hands in his pocket, tho he had cut a hole open in the right one to allow him to grab his pistol at a moments notice. His hood was pulled up, like any hoodlum roaming the dark streets of this city. His right hand slipped subtly towards the Springfield pistol, gauging the distance and reaction time it would take if shit went sideways. He knew exactly where it was, doing it more for the mental comfort. His target destination was a park not too far from the motel. It took him exactly twelve minutes to reach it, having walked the path several times before. He wasn't sure why his mark enjoyed the park so late at night especially in the deep city. He figured she could protect herself, being Touched after all, so the danger was negligible to her. She sat at the park bench for what seemed like hours sometimes staring off into space. He knew why, of course. Her dossier told him everything. Her mother was murdered in that park by a group of men looking to get some easy money. A simple robbery took a turn for the worse, though. She was raped and beaten, left to die in some bushes. A tragic tale. He supposed she hoped the same men would come wandering back around and she would present herself as the victim. When he arrived in the park she wasn't there yet. She arrived around three in the morning. He picked a spot that overlooked the bench and jogging trail and waited.</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: Hoffand Park Time: 2:50 A.M. --- A lone blonde woman was walking along the path that went throughout the park early in the morning. It was still dark and peacefully quiet, giving her time to think as she traveled along the trail. No children insanely running around and being the young lunatics that they were. No screaming taxi drivers, groups of friends, arguing couples. It was completely silent other than the occasional rustle of bushes and leaves skidding across the ground. Anastasia enjoyed this time where the city was quiet. The time where everybody rested and the night owls roamed to have their peace. The air was a nice cool temperature, the woman only having a thin navy jacket, black jeans, and fluffy boots to keep her warm. She enjoyed the weather at this time, wishing that time didn't pass and it could stay that way forever. Her mind would fade blank as she took her slow but long strides along the park path. Walking this way many times before, Anastasia didn't have to look up from her boots as she walked. Her feet guided her way through the area as she began to question herself. Thinking about the world they were in, and why it couldn't be as peaceful as it was now. I wonder if anyone will find out. No, none of the people should know by now. It was only just beginning and she never used 'it' around anybody. Maybe there's cameras that detect 'them'. What if there's technology that can find those people? There can't be. If there were devices that could hunt down 'them', people wouldn't be paid to find them. What if somebody is here right now for me? This thought made Anastasia quickly stop on her tracks, looking around to her surroundings. An empty bench was nearby with a few lights to keep the pathway bright. It was a comfortable place to take a rest on and tempted her to go over. It was almost three. People might be waking up and begin wandering soon. She could either get back to her motel room nearby or take the last few moments resting in that peaceful area. It gave her a lonely feeling. Sitting there alone on that bench with nobody beside her. But the cityfolk were also crazies, causing fights between their own kind even if they're on the same side of society. She didn't want to sit with some stranger that could be a murderer. Although the thoughts may have been bugging her, she decided to sit down on the bench anyway. Her thighs pressed together slightly in the cold shadows as her hands moved towards her hood, pulling it over her face and darkening the view.</s>	<\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: Hoffand Park Time: 3:00 A.M. --- It was chilly that night, but not quite so for the wind was barely blowing. You could hear the occasional rustle of leaves as they were pushed across the paths but not much else. The quiet was serene. Welcoming, even. Not many people took the time for contemplative reflection. Their lives were taken over by schedules and meetings and brunches. Did they want a venti frappuccino or a grande mocha latte? The trivialities were as such that if you were to take away this illusion of freedom they would kick and scream, throwing a fit like an undisciplined child. Kyle barely stirred as a woman entered his eyesight. She pulled the jacket tightly around her as she sat on the bench, knees coming together either out of modesty or comfort. His head tilted slightly, his finger gently running across the grip of the weapon hidden behind his jacket like a lover. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, natural night vision taking in all the ambient light around him. The woman had pulled the hood up over her head, so he couldn't make out any details of her face but he saw that she was a blonde before she sat down. There was a lamp post not too far away from the bench pushing shadows across the ground as if hands clawing at any who pass by. The branches swayed in the wind and whistled with trepidation. Kyle barely moved when he noticed another coming down the path. The strawberry blonde-haired woman walked the opposite direction from where the first woman came, wearing a long overcoat pulled at her midsection, accentuating her assets. She slowed when she saw Ana, curious to see another in this wretched park at the witching hour. She continued, tho, the clicking of her heels against the pavement stones being the only sound that pierced the night air. She was a beautiful woman. Five feet five inches tall with inviting green eyes. Olive skin wrapped around a lithe frame. Her hair was slightly curly and bounced with every step she took. The woman moved gracefully toward Ana taking the seat next to her. "Good morning." She spoke softly in a tone that dripped of honey. "Don't see many other people here at this hour... except them." She said, gesturing toward what appeared to be a homeless person clutching a worn coat over their frame. If one would listen closely, you could hear the shivers between his incoherent ramblings to himself. A city was built on tragedy. It forgot those that needed to be seen the most and cast aside those that needed to be embraced. Life was, with no reservation, cruel and unjust. After a brief pause, the woman looked toward Ana whispering, "My name is Victoria." Kyle looked on as the two women sat together. He knew the second woman was his target. He had watched her for weeks taking in every detail about her. Her gait and graceful walk. The way she smiled and greeted strangers with a nod of her head. Kyle liked to make a game of it in his mind. Like star-crossed lovers reaching out to each other. In some distant past perhaps they could have been together, raising a family and loving each other. The reality of it was, this is how Kyle coped. It was as if he was writing a novel and nothing he did was real. The texture of the grip running across the pad of his finger spoke others. Silently, he moved from his position, cutting around wide as to not attract attention. He stuck to the shadows and watched the placement of his feet as he flanked the bench. This new woman, however... It complicated things.</s>
<\|description\|>Kyle Lucidius Age: 33 Gender: Male Appearance: Kyle stands at five feet eleven inches and weighs approximately 170 pounds. He has a beard which he keeps trimmed neatly and short, brown hair. He has no visible scars on his face, but his torso is marred with them. From bullet holes to slashes to burns, a chronicle of his past horrors detailed on his body. Personality: Kyle is, for all intents and purposes, a loner. He is quiet most of the time but when he speaks, his tone is even and does not betray emotion. He is of incredible constitution, both mentally and physically, and one of the reasons why he was chosen for his particular occupation. He harbors no ill will towards those that are Touched but this does not mean that they do not haunt him. When alone, he relives every murder. Background: Born into a world that fears what it doesn't understand, Kyle was raised with fear and suspicion. His parents instilled this distrust in him at an early age as it was law to report any suspicious persons who may have been Touched. For this reason Kyle did not make many friends while he was growing up, preferring instead the company of long-dead poets and authors. In an attempt to escape his condemned life, he joined the military and in his naivety, hoped to understand the world. This eventually led to his recruitment into their special forces where he learned many things from marksmanship to stealth but most importantly, he learned how to disconnect from killing. After he completed his tour of duty, he had no prospects in the civilian sector. His skills were not something many employers wanted. One decision when he was younger marked him for the rest of his life as nothing more than a trigger man so that is what he became. Enlisting into the services of a private organization, charged with the contract of finding, detaining, or eliminating the Touched, this has been his life for the past year. It wasn't with some irony that he himself would begin to manifest his own powers. Whether they were latent within him from birth or the fates deciding to punish him for his chosen life he did not know. However, his greatest challenge laid ahead. He will eventually be hunted himself and those that he hunted in the past will soon become his allies... or worse. Abilities: * Telekinesis * Pyrokinesis * Psychometry Weapon(s): * Ka-Bar Military Knife * SRSA1 Stealth Recon Scout Sniper Rifle * Springfield XD-S 4" .45ACP</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: Hoffand Park --- Anastasia kept quiet as the woman beside her spoke to "Mr. Lucidius", still waiting if they were going to be killed. It didn't seem to be happening soon, Victoria probably distracting him with her words and making him hesitate. Wasn't he supposed to be a hunter, a mercenary of sorts, and kill them off quickly to move on to the next mission? She felt uncomfortable whenever she felt the pair's eyes look towards her, knowing that they were looking towards her direction, even when she was frozen in the same position. The most movement that came from her was the shaky attempt of breathing rise and fall from her chest. Her eyes didn't want to blink. It was to make sure that she witnessed everything with her own two eyes before dying - if she did. The blonde twitched her fingers when she felt the muzzle of the gun suddenly switch to her left temple. Almost simultaneously, a clicking sound that must have been a blade popped out before her. He was going to kill both of them off if Victoria didn't act quickly. Fortunately she kept speaking, even though it could have been both of their death sentences. But the woman seemed to have gotten "Mr. Lucidius"'s attention. To be honest, that was a little embarrassing. A mercenary not meeting their mission of killing their victim. It was just as bad as a predator having pity on their prey. Anastasia couldn't help let out a snort from holding back her laugh to keep serious. Us? She knew. Well, of course she knew. It wasn't a surprise if Victoria already knew the man with them. But it didn't make her relax, especially with the feeling of eyes moving back onto her happening again. Where the Pale Man dresses? Where's that? "Mr. Lucidius" must have knew where that was if Victoria was telling him the direction. Before Anastasia could try saying something to reject being useful, she saw Victoria's appearance shatter to pieces to be carried away in the wind. Illusion magic? Possibly. But that definitely wasn't something she should be questioning right now. It was positive they were going to be hunted now. Her thoughts were interrupted by the man grabbing her arm, making her bolt her head up towards him. Are you saying there's an option of staying, even though I'm not going to choose it? she thought while giving her another pair of squinting eyes. Anastasia sighed as he was already running off towards the park barrier. Might as well follow him if he knew the destination they had to go to. She got up and hopped the bench, following after the mercenary. Or, former mercenary. Ana caught up easily but kept herself blended in the darkness. Wait, wouldn't that be difficult for her? Blonde hair, pale to olive skin, bright blue jacket... No, she had other ways to blend in. Her footsteps could be heard near "Mr. Lucidius", but her appearance seemed to have just... disappeared. Anastasia didn't say anything about it. The first thing she wanted to ask quietly came out of her mouth. "What's your first name?" It was a dumb question but it was the automatic thing that came to mind. However, to him, it was more of the air speaking to him than the blonde.</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Streets --- Kyle had memorized several blocks surrounding the park. Where the alleys turn and end and which are divided only by a fence. He ran quickly through them as his goal was to put as much distance between himself and the park as possible. The organization was ruthlessly efficient. They cared little for bystanders and innocents that happened to cross their path. All that mattered to them was the extinction of The Touched and now Kyle was one of them. How they knew he hadn't the slightest idea. All that mattered now was that they did know and Kyle's choices were growing slimmer by the second. He thought he had more time, truth be told. He knew he was manifesting powers, but why at the age of 33 were they happening now? Of course, he knew powers could manifest at any time from infancy to adulthood. Throughout his service he has seen many different types of powers manifest from the benign to the monstrous. He himself wielded a power that aided him in the hunting of the Touched. An irony he was well aware of, perhaps that is why the organization caught on to him. Regardless of all of that, this was the predicament he was in. How the hell are you going to get out of this one? He thought to himself as he slowed his run, approaching a main street. He placed his back against one of the buildings and edged slowly closer to the corner of the building. They were about three blocks away from the park now but that did not mean they were safe. Peering around the corner he saw that it was, for the most part, deserted. Everyone had was gone. Hiding or asleep in their beds. People knew what it meant when the organization was whipping through the streets. It wasn't a secret. The woman said to go where the 'Pale Man Dresses'. To most that would seem incomprehensible, but he knew from a few years ago there was a rumor about a Touched called The Pale Man. He became a bit of a folk hero to those with powers. He was said to embody the most powerful of abilities and was incredibly pale. Unbelievably charismatic, he was a natural leader. Almost like a vampire, some said. There was a secret head shop that dealt with the more taboo and occult things in the city. In the front it was a clothing store like any other but those that had the access were allowed into the basement. He could only hope that this was the place that the woman meant. --- Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store He heard Anastasia talk, but he didn't pay much attention to her. In fact, her speaking at all soured his demeanor. He would deal with it in time, he thought, as he sprinted across the street whilst keeping his profile low. Suddenly a shot rang out. It was faint, but he knew the direction it came from. He only saw one other person in the park and that was the homeless man that was near where the two women sat. No doubt the operatives didn't find his ramblings useful and shot the poor bastard. It wasn't long before they arrived at the side entrance to the store. Kyle tried turning the doorknob but found it locked. Cursing under his breath he looked to his right and left, satisfied there was no one else there. He focused on the handle his hand quivering as whatever essence spilled forth from his being. The latch sprang and the spring within snapped under the pressure. The door flew open only to be caught still as Kyle rose his hand to defy physics. "Inside." he said. He wasn't sure if the woman was following him but as he stepped inside, he waited a second before closing the door. The story was empty and all the lights were off but he made it a point to move as slowly as possible. He didn't want any wanderers spotting him from the outside as he perused the selection of wares. He picked out a nice woolen gray trench coat and a skullcap. Taking off his hoodie, he put on the other cloths, placing his pistol into the right pocket of the coat. "My name is Kyle, he finally said, What is yours?" He began his search for the basement.</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: City Streets --- The lone blonde didn't go out often, barely knowing anywhere else other than the motel area leading on to the park. She wanted to look at all of the details when passing the new places, but she couldn't. Anastasia had to keep up with Kyle as they quickly ran away from the park. The man must be trying to get as much distance as possible in a little amount of time. She already knew there were organizations grouped up to go after the Touched. But how would they already know was the question she had in mind. Cameras? Sensors? Detectors? Ana didn't know, but anything was possible at this point. They just had to choose the right path to take. Occasionally Anastasia would try getting a better look at the man. He seemed a bit older than her, definitely, but only just got his abilities now. She got hers a bit while ago and managed to control the basics. After all, she running behind "Mr. Lucidius" completely invisible. For all she knew, he didn't even remember Anastasia was supposed to be there with him. It didn't matter now. She slowed herself down beside the mercenary, casually standing beside him when he pressed up against the wall. Anastasia was lucky, having to turn invisible and all, then she remembered: If they already knew "Mr. Lucidius" was developing his powers, then they might be able to sense her as well. This made her bolt next to him against the wall, keeping close to him as he looked around the corner. Her cold presence could easily be felt but not seen. What did Victoria say again? "Go to where the Pale Man dresses and we shall discuss more." That was it. "Mr. Lucidius" must be thinking of where to go at that very moment. Just as she thought about his next move, he ran across the street to some sort of clothing store. --- Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store Just as they were crossing the street, Anastasia heard a shot from the distance. She winced as her fingers twitched. They froze over almost immediately. If she wasn't invisible a thin layer of frost could be seen along her fingers. One of the easiest ways to tell she was anxious. Who did they shoot? The only other person there was- Right, of course. He had it coming anyway. Poor guy. The thought of the blood running across the park grounds only made her run across faster. She quickly caught her breath after all that running, and when Anastasia turned back to the locked door- it was already open? The man with her must have opened it while she was distracted. She quickly got inside as told then reappeared in front of him again. She had her hands up against the top of her stomach in a prayer pose, her fingers quivering with the frost on top. It was melting slowly but surely as she looked around. Kyle. Kyle Lucidius, she put together. "Anastasia," the blonde would respond in a whisper while looking around the shop. When going near the front window, she suddenly appeared out of sight again. A pair of Harbinger gloves disappeared from a rack. And you'd think she'd wear gloves to cover her fingers. A brown leather jacket disappeared off. Black shades, gone. As Kyle searched around, Anastasia appeared next to him again. She was switched around with the clothes she chose. She looked completely different, which was perfect. Her previous jacket was across one of her arms as her hands fiddled around with the gloves. Close, open, close open. Whenever her hands opened, her fingers would freeze over. Whenever they closed, the frost quickly went away. She seemed unaffected by the cold. Ana did that with her hands while she watched Kyle look for- whatever he was looking for.</s>	<\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Pale Dress --- Kyle was methodical. His eyes scanned every nook and cranny of the store. He was looking for the entrance to the basement, of course. There was another door in the rear that may lead to it, but he had to take care of something first. His eyes shifted toward Anastasia, watching as items faded from what seemed like existence. His eyes narrowed and his pace slowed. He ran his hand along the length of a wall, buying himself some time. There were so many questions he needed answers to. He wanted to know how they managed to find out about his manifestation. How they knew of anyone's manifestation. Did they solely work with spies and the disenfranchised eyes of the cities, luring them with promises of riches and rewards? Perhaps it was something far more sinister. When Anastasia appeared next to him, Kyle moved incredibly quickly. His left hand wrapped around her throat, clutching tightly as he propelled her body against the naked wall. His right clutched at his pistol, moving swiftly to her forehead. The weapon worked on a series of safety mechanisms, having to actually grip the pistol to release the first. The second was built into the trigger itself. His finger slowly squeezed the safety catch back and was only a centimeter from releasing the firing pin. He wasn't sure what this woman was capable of, but he doubted she was quicker than an object traveling at 900 feet per second. "Where the fuck did you come from?!" he spat venomously, keeping his voice in a low growl. "Why were you in the park? His grip tightened over her throat, his thumb and fingers pressing into the jugular veins on either side of her neck as the webbing of his hand crushing into her windpipe. He relaxed after a second or two, meant to prove that he was not to be trifled with nor was this an idle threat. Kyle's life hung in the balance and he would do anything to preserve it. At least, until he got the answers he sought and wrought his vengeance against those who did him wrong.</s>
<\|description\|>Kyle Lucidius Age: 33 Gender: Male Appearance: Kyle stands at five feet eleven inches and weighs approximately 170 pounds. He has a beard which he keeps trimmed neatly and short, brown hair. He has no visible scars on his face, but his torso is marred with them. From bullet holes to slashes to burns, a chronicle of his past horrors detailed on his body. Personality: Kyle is, for all intents and purposes, a loner. He is quiet most of the time but when he speaks, his tone is even and does not betray emotion. He is of incredible constitution, both mentally and physically, and one of the reasons why he was chosen for his particular occupation. He harbors no ill will towards those that are Touched but this does not mean that they do not haunt him. When alone, he relives every murder. Background: Born into a world that fears what it doesn't understand, Kyle was raised with fear and suspicion. His parents instilled this distrust in him at an early age as it was law to report any suspicious persons who may have been Touched. For this reason Kyle did not make many friends while he was growing up, preferring instead the company of long-dead poets and authors. In an attempt to escape his condemned life, he joined the military and in his naivety, hoped to understand the world. This eventually led to his recruitment into their special forces where he learned many things from marksmanship to stealth but most importantly, he learned how to disconnect from killing. After he completed his tour of duty, he had no prospects in the civilian sector. His skills were not something many employers wanted. One decision when he was younger marked him for the rest of his life as nothing more than a trigger man so that is what he became. Enlisting into the services of a private organization, charged with the contract of finding, detaining, or eliminating the Touched, this has been his life for the past year. It wasn't with some irony that he himself would begin to manifest his own powers. Whether they were latent within him from birth or the fates deciding to punish him for his chosen life he did not know. However, his greatest challenge laid ahead. He will eventually be hunted himself and those that he hunted in the past will soon become his allies... or worse. Abilities: * Telekinesis * Pyrokinesis * Psychometry Weapon(s): * Ka-Bar Military Knife * SRSA1 Stealth Recon Scout Sniper Rifle * Springfield XD-S 4" .45ACP</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store --- Not even a second after she reappeared, Anatasia was slammed against the wall, a hand wrapped around her throat. She seemed to let out a "Hissss" like a balloon letting out air or a snake in danger. Her immediate action was to claw at the hand that held her against the wall. Anastasia's hands froze over quickly, the hundreds of jagged edges trying to rip through his clothes to his skin. Not even to the meeting with Victoria yet and she was being betrayed? The gun was up against her forehead as she was weakly clawed around against the wall. Seriously? Did he expect her to answer while being in a choke-hold against the wall? Good luck with that. Kyle's webbing was pressing against her windpipe, too. She wasn't going to talk on low oxygen. Even if she could, Anastasia still wouldn't talk. She was an "innocent" Touched in the park. The blonde didn't have any important details. He relaxed to attempt showing he wasn't a threat, but it didn't help at all. Just as Anastasia felt his arm relaxing, both of her hands grabbed onto the one around her neck- and fully froze it over. So she wouldn't be shot from that, she immediately ripped open Kyle's fingers from her neck, the ice cracking as she quickly shuffled down to the floor. Just in case she was going to get kicked or shot from above, Anastasia rolled to the side and hopped back to a standing position. When Anastasia recovered onto her feet, she quickly made the thick frost shatter with a whip of her own frozen hands. "Never do that again," were the first words that escaped her mouth before answering. "Now, if you really want information out of me, keep in mind that I don't do it when held around the neck, even with a weapon against me. I know you're trying to get out of this alive, but threatening the people who are working with you and for the same reason doesn't help." She started with the first question he asked. "If you want the quick answer, I came from the motel down the street from the park." Anastasia would rub around the scratches on her neck and face with thin frost over her fingers in attempt to numb the pain. "And why I was there? The same reason the woman had: find peace, which apparently isn't possible," she spat. Anastasia quickly went invisible before he could try anything else, but didn't move from the place she stood at until the scratches were numb from the cold. After numbing the patches of pain she would silently roam the store again. Kyle was trying to find something against the walls, right? Must be a door or something. Easy. Her hand lightly ran against items in the store so they wouldn't disappear off, checking them for any off feature. Her eyes ran along the floor as well to see if there were any signs.</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Pale Dress --- That was two powers he witnessed from her. The ability to cloak herself to her surroundings and slow the vibrations of matter, freezing things over. Very interesting. Kyle rarely did things out of character or in the heat of the moment. Yes, he was attempting to gain intelligence from the woman, which she freely gave after the fact, but he also discovered her innate talents. It was a risky endeavor, as she could have proved to have a much more dangerous ability. He remembered a teenage boy he dealt with some years ago. Brian, he believed his name was. A quadriplegic rendered useless in a state-of-the-art wheelchair but soon his powers began to the manifest. They ranged from inhibiting psychosomatic hallucinations in his victims to completely taking over their nervous systems. A string of random suicides lead Kyle to Chicago where he resided. They all had one common denominator among them and it was this boy. From nurses to doctors to insurance professionals. Those that screwed him or his family over soon met a tragic end. When the ice coated his left hand, he recoiled back, clutching it to his chest as he took a step backwards. He looked at Anastasia and holstered his pistol into his waist band, turning his back toward her. His hand began to heat up, his internal body temperature rising as he pushed the heat to the affected area. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his fingers, the ice melting almost as quickly as it had appeared. After the woman ended her rant, his voice softly carried through the empty store, "Keep in mind who the predator in the room is. Make yourself useful and look for any signs of the Resistance." The Resistance was a group of Touched that found each other a few years ago. It was in response to the establishment of the H.B.C.T.U., or, the Human Biological Counter-Terrorism Unit. This was the organization tasked with the research, tracking, and extermination of the Touched. At first it started out with good intentions. Those that would use their powers for evil were hunted with extreme prejudice but then a bill was passed in the federal government. Due to the increasing presence of the Touched, fear and panic was rampant. Akin to how Nazi propaganda during World War II, there were those in government that sculpted problems and pushed these fears across the public. The Afflicted Persons bill passed and the War on Terror took a turn for the worst. Prisons could not be built in time to house these individuals and a green light was given to the systematic murder of thousands. Kyle was part of the HBCTU. Or, rather, was... His ran across a wall, his finger tapping occasionally to see if there was a false wall. In one instance it felt hollow, but such a thing wasn't possible. This wall was against the brick structure of the building. Of course, he has seen weird things in the past several years. "Here..." He began looking around the wall for anything. What he found was something interesting. Near the floor behind a shelving unit, he noticed small runic patterns burnt into the wood itself. As his finger passed over them, they shimmered in an amber color. Suddenly, the wall faded from existence and revealed a circular staircase leading into darkness. He leaned over the side and peered into the abyss, his hand reaching for his weapon. Holding it to his side, he looked around for the woman.</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store --- The predator? And who was that exactly? It must have been what he mentioned, the Resistance. Anastasia barely remembered what they were. If she remembered correctly, they were a group of other Touched people that "took care" of their own kind. But wouldn't that mean Kyle is- was part of it? He was tasked to kill the woman after all. Now he's getting chased down, too. This time, instead of asking him questions, Anastasia kept silent while checking around the store for clues. When she heard the faint mutter of the word "Here", a quick turn of her heel got her to face his direction. Kyle was at a wall - but also the same one against the brick structure of the building. What was so special about that? What was the difference in all of the other parts of the wall? Anatasia frowned slightly before walking around the tables and racks to be near Kyle. She kept her distance just in case he did something wrong, but close enough to follow his exact movements around the wall. Kyle seemed to have found something behind a shelving unit near the floor. Ana got curious to see it, using one leg to lean forward on and look over his shoulder. Rune patterns burnt in. Now that was something she could easily recognize. Anastasia saw them in shows, online, even occasionally passed or caught them on her free time. She managed to learn a few symbols, traps, and sigils herself as well. The woman would do them using ice instead of frost, the markings too clear for someone to see, having to use touch to actually find them. Maybe she could use them for this. Just as the man touched the rune patterns, the wall that he checked earlier disappeared from sight, like it faded from existence. A staircase was circling down into the darkness. He was trying to find the- basement? Seriously? Out of all things? Actually, Anastasia shouldn't be asking that. What about him triggering a fire runes? No, wait. The question just answered itself. But it's always good to make sure, isn't it? She looked back to Kyle, who was already next to the staircase with his gun to his side. He must have been trying to look for sign of- Victoria? That was right. Anatasia's face shifted to a neutral expression before reappearing back next to him. She still felt uneasy appearing so close to him, but she had to anyway. "So Mister Fire, are you just going to stand around or go in? We were looking for this to enter or do it out of spite? she asked in a low voice, rolling her eyes afterwards.</s>	<\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius The staircase spiraled down what seemed to be a crudely cut circular tunnel, descending into who knows what. Kyle didn't even want to touch on the physics-breaking wall, but, then again, after the Touched were made known, little disturbances began to make a bit more sense. Things and events that made people narrow their eyes and tilt their head. That unknown factor you just couldn't put your finger on. There was silence in the store and Kyle leaned a bit closer over the staircase shifting his head to the side, listening for anything he may discern that dwelled below. That was, until the woman began to speak again. Kyle clenched his jaw, her condescending tone slowly beginning to wear down his patience. One of the many reasons he chose to work alone is due to the fact that he found most people to be inept and every encounter he has had with them has proven him correct. His gaze slowly shifted over to Anastasia, the thought of grabbing her by the hair and tossing her down the shaft played through his mind. He could even gauge how deep it went by the sound of her broken body hitting the steps. Dismissing the thought, he looked back down the staircase and carefully placed his right foot on the first step. They had managed to escape the government for now but somehow he felt that he was walking into the mouth of another lion. He had spent years hunting down the Touched, and he was being invited in by one of their envoys? No matter how you sliced it, this couldn't end well for him. But what would he do? He could spend the rest of his life running from the government with their almost limitless funds and technology. The next decisions Kyle would have to make would determine the course his life would take, for better or worse. Satisfied that there weren't any traps or vortexes that he would unwittingly get sucked into, he began to descend the stairs into the pit. --- After what seemed like countless rotations around the spiral staircase the tunnel opened into something that he could have never imagined. Something like this could surely not exist under the city, what with sewer tunnels and underground metro that ran the span of it. However, somehow here this place. The cavern opened to this massive expansion with rough columns chiseled into the rock and all manner of beasts sat atop them. Kyle stopped in his tracks when he saw them, his eyes unblinking. He looked for any movement from the seemingly innocuous carvings but, hell, at this point he wasn't willing to discount anything. He's seen his fair share of movies. Kyle walked out into the room, two entryways ahead of him split off into what seemed like other rooms and there was a long corridor behind to the left of the staircase, which hugged the wall as they descended. Every footfall echoed across the chamber with a dull sound. Suddenly Kyle felt the fatigue of the day creeping up on him. He had his adrenaline to thank the past few hours but his body began to fight back. Finding his resolve, he marshalled in further across the main chamber.</s>
<\|description\|>Anastasia Hashiga "We'll see about that." Nickname(s): Ana Age: 20 Gender: Female Appearance: Anatasia's is around average height of five feet six inches, having a fit body and a slightly plump face. Her dirty blonde hair goes down below her shoulders. It's messy most of the time as she repeatedly runs her hair through it often. Her hazel eyes shine bright a majority of the time but fades when the situation is bad. Ana's evenly pale skin has faint red scars here and there, most visible along her arms and face. Personality: Ana is dependent on anything and anyone at all costs. It doesn't matter what's happening, she has something or someone assisting her in the task. Even when she's alone she has access to somebody else to communicate with somehow. This is mainly due to insecurities and the extreme fear of being alone. However, when talking to people she's either aggressive and sassy or outgoing and open-minded. There's rarely an in between. Fortunately Anastasia is usually quiet and uses hand signals instead of talking. Background: When Anastasia came to the world, she grew up in a worrisome but positive family. Due to the conflict happening throughout the world, her parents wanted to keep their little girl as innocent as possible before she understood what was happening. Years pass and Anastasia didn't know much about people being hunted until her parents were killed for being possible suspects of being the Touched. She has had trauma ever since, depending on them quite often. Anastasia didn't want to get anywhere near the current situation of the abilities and war. It was until now when she found out that she was developing her own abilities, separating her even more from society. She was afraid of how many people that were murdering the Touched. She was going to have the same fate that her parents had, whether they had powers or not. Anastasia searched for others in secret to see if she could form allies to help in her problem. Abilities:* Animal Manipulation * Snow Manipulation * Invisibility Weapon(s): N/A Other: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: Motel Time: 2:25 A.M. --- Is there a God? I wonder if anyone still believes in that cruel, vile son of a bitch. He stared at the end table, eyeing the empty glass. The motel was dark aside from the meager light that shined from a desk lamp that had all but one bulb burnt out. He sat at the edge of that uncomfortable bed, elbows resting on his thighs. The dingy interior of this motel was nothing short of decrepit but on the upside he still hasn't found any roaches. He didn't blink for quite some time, idly rubbing his hands together. He wondered many things throughout his life, but one question kept resurfacing as of late. The irony of it all. He reached between his legs and unscrewed the cap off the bottle. Jameson was his go-to drink. It burned enough to still let him know this wasn't all a dream. Funny as it was, it grounded him. It forced him to accept his fate even tho try as he might to escape it. Pouring himself two-fingers worth in the glass, he returned the bottle back onto the floor. He knew he still had a job to do, the files placed neatly in the brown folder next to him. He sighed, clutching the glass like it was his lifeline. Staring deep into the abyss of the bottom of that glass, he pondered a thought. I wonder who they will send after me. Reyes? Oscar? That sadistic fuck Benson? The prospect of it almost didn't seem real, but that burn definitely was. Taking the glass to his lips, he threw it back into his throat. The next step was the set-up. The preparation was complete. He knew the target. Memorized the face. Oh, the faces. They never went away. They never will, will they? For he is the messenger of God, sent to strike fear into the hearts of those who oppose him. With great fury will the sword strike against the wicked and condemned. The biblical God no longer existed. It didn't need to. The dredges of humanity have definitely taken up the mantle, hiding behind their suits and ties and mahogany desks. For now, though, he was the force behind the sword. He gathered his things for the night ahead. He wore regular street clothes. A t-shirt he found at Spencers of some band he never heard of laid over by a gray zip-up hoodie. His jeans were that retro faded crap he saw people wearing at times. The only thing functional were his boots, which he hid with the hem of his pants. He holstered his pistol at his side and placed a switchblade knife into his pocket. Funny story about that switchblade. Took it off some punk who wanted his wallet a few nights prior. Suppose he should've thanked him as opposed to break his jaw. His traditional Ka-Bar knife was far too conspicuous in this outfit. He placed the files into a briefcase that sat at the edge of his bed and zipped up his go-bag. One last look around the motel, he headed out the door. --- Location: City Streets Time: 2:48 A.M. --- The city was quiet tonight. He couldn't hear the yelling bouncing off the old, brick buildings of kids who would surely skip class the next day. Not even the cabs hauling their drunk patrons or spouses from their night of infidelity were out in abundance. There was something in the air tonight, Kyle could feel it. He had grown to have a sense about these things. A preternatural "sixth sense", as it were. He kept his hands in his pocket, tho he had cut a hole open in the right one to allow him to grab his pistol at a moments notice. His hood was pulled up, like any hoodlum roaming the dark streets of this city. His right hand slipped subtly towards the Springfield pistol, gauging the distance and reaction time it would take if shit went sideways. He knew exactly where it was, doing it more for the mental comfort. His target destination was a park not too far from the motel. It took him exactly twelve minutes to reach it, having walked the path several times before. He wasn't sure why his mark enjoyed the park so late at night especially in the deep city. He figured she could protect herself, being Touched after all, so the danger was negligible to her. She sat at the park bench for what seemed like hours sometimes staring off into space. He knew why, of course. Her dossier told him everything. Her mother was murdered in that park by a group of men looking to get some easy money. A simple robbery took a turn for the worse, though. She was raped and beaten, left to die in some bushes. A tragic tale. He supposed she hoped the same men would come wandering back around and she would present herself as the victim. When he arrived in the park she wasn't there yet. She arrived around three in the morning. He picked a spot that overlooked the bench and jogging trail and waited.</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: Hoffand Park Time: 2:50 A.M. --- A lone blonde woman was walking along the path that went throughout the park early in the morning. It was still dark and peacefully quiet, giving her time to think as she traveled along the trail. No children insanely running around and being the young lunatics that they were. No screaming taxi drivers, groups of friends, arguing couples. It was completely silent other than the occasional rustle of bushes and leaves skidding across the ground. Anastasia enjoyed this time where the city was quiet. The time where everybody rested and the night owls roamed to have their peace. The air was a nice cool temperature, the woman only having a thin navy jacket, black jeans, and fluffy boots to keep her warm. She enjoyed the weather at this time, wishing that time didn't pass and it could stay that way forever. Her mind would fade blank as she took her slow but long strides along the park path. Walking this way many times before, Anastasia didn't have to look up from her boots as she walked. Her feet guided her way through the area as she began to question herself. Thinking about the world they were in, and why it couldn't be as peaceful as it was now. I wonder if anyone will find out. No, none of the people should know by now. It was only just beginning and she never used 'it' around anybody. Maybe there's cameras that detect 'them'. What if there's technology that can find those people? There can't be. If there were devices that could hunt down 'them', people wouldn't be paid to find them. What if somebody is here right now for me? This thought made Anastasia quickly stop on her tracks, looking around to her surroundings. An empty bench was nearby with a few lights to keep the pathway bright. It was a comfortable place to take a rest on and tempted her to go over. It was almost three. People might be waking up and begin wandering soon. She could either get back to her motel room nearby or take the last few moments resting in that peaceful area. It gave her a lonely feeling. Sitting there alone on that bench with nobody beside her. But the cityfolk were also crazies, causing fights between their own kind even if they're on the same side of society. She didn't want to sit with some stranger that could be a murderer. Although the thoughts may have been bugging her, she decided to sit down on the bench anyway. Her thighs pressed together slightly in the cold shadows as her hands moved towards her hood, pulling it over her face and darkening the view.</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: Hoffand Park Time: 3:00 A.M. --- It was chilly that night, but not quite so for the wind was barely blowing. You could hear the occasional rustle of leaves as they were pushed across the paths but not much else. The quiet was serene. Welcoming, even. Not many people took the time for contemplative reflection. Their lives were taken over by schedules and meetings and brunches. Did they want a venti frappuccino or a grande mocha latte? The trivialities were as such that if you were to take away this illusion of freedom they would kick and scream, throwing a fit like an undisciplined child. Kyle barely stirred as a woman entered his eyesight. She pulled the jacket tightly around her as she sat on the bench, knees coming together either out of modesty or comfort. His head tilted slightly, his finger gently running across the grip of the weapon hidden behind his jacket like a lover. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, natural night vision taking in all the ambient light around him. The woman had pulled the hood up over her head, so he couldn't make out any details of her face but he saw that she was a blonde before she sat down. There was a lamp post not too far away from the bench pushing shadows across the ground as if hands clawing at any who pass by. The branches swayed in the wind and whistled with trepidation. Kyle barely moved when he noticed another coming down the path. The strawberry blonde-haired woman walked the opposite direction from where the first woman came, wearing a long overcoat pulled at her midsection, accentuating her assets. She slowed when she saw Ana, curious to see another in this wretched park at the witching hour. She continued, tho, the clicking of her heels against the pavement stones being the only sound that pierced the night air. She was a beautiful woman. Five feet five inches tall with inviting green eyes. Olive skin wrapped around a lithe frame. Her hair was slightly curly and bounced with every step she took. The woman moved gracefully toward Ana taking the seat next to her. "Good morning." She spoke softly in a tone that dripped of honey. "Don't see many other people here at this hour... except them." She said, gesturing toward what appeared to be a homeless person clutching a worn coat over their frame. If one would listen closely, you could hear the shivers between his incoherent ramblings to himself. A city was built on tragedy. It forgot those that needed to be seen the most and cast aside those that needed to be embraced. Life was, with no reservation, cruel and unjust. After a brief pause, the woman looked toward Ana whispering, "My name is Victoria." Kyle looked on as the two women sat together. He knew the second woman was his target. He had watched her for weeks taking in every detail about her. Her gait and graceful walk. The way she smiled and greeted strangers with a nod of her head. Kyle liked to make a game of it in his mind. Like star-crossed lovers reaching out to each other. In some distant past perhaps they could have been together, raising a family and loving each other. The reality of it was, this is how Kyle coped. It was as if he was writing a novel and nothing he did was real. The texture of the grip running across the pad of his finger spoke others. Silently, he moved from his position, cutting around wide as to not attract attention. He stuck to the shadows and watched the placement of his feet as he flanked the bench. This new woman, however... It complicated things.</s>	<\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Location: Hoffand Park Time: 3:05 A.M. --- Anatasia started to feel watched as her eyes scanned the park in her view. She couldn't tell why. It was just a sense of uneasiness was starting to crawl up her spine, like somebody was also there. She just waited to be jumped as her legs tightened against each other. Her eyes quickly shifted to the movement from the opposite direction from where she came from. It was just a woman walking down the pathway. Ana's legs would relax as she saw them. They were beautiful. At least, more beautiful than her- which was just about everybody she saw. She admired the woman's strawberry-colored hair bouncing along her shoulders as she walked towards the bench. The blonde had to remember how to speak as the woman spoke to her. She agreed to herself as the woman mentioned not seeing a lot of people around this time. Only the homeless stayed around the area, but that was 24/7. Anastasia didn't count them. When she walked around the park she saw nobody else. People were either at a different section of the park, or they weren't staying long. She didn't want to think of what other people might be doing in the park, turning her attention back to the woman next to her. She was gesturing towards one of the homeless nearby. They shivered in their worn coat while mumbling to themselves, making Anastasia frown slightly. She looked back to the woman when she told her name in at a soft volume, just what she'd call a perfect whisper. Something was off about it. In her voice she seemed to have the same uneasiness as Anastasia had before. Like they were being watched, and the woman had to stay in secret. Victoria. It echoed in her head a few times. It rhymed with Anastasia. The tiny detail made the edge of her mouth twitch with a grin, but it didn't stay for long. "Hello, I'm Anatasia. I don't see a lot of people either. I'm just enjoying the park right now," she told the woman, going along with the softness of her voice. It was not that easy for her to be quiet, easy to tell by the occasional rumbles in her voice as she spoke, but she managed. Even in a whisper her voice seemed stern, not as welcoming as Victoria's. Anastasia already knew that her expression was naturally blank. Like she was zoning out. Judging people. Scheming some sort of plan. It only bothered her now when another person talked to her.</s>
<\|description\|>Anastasia Hashiga "We'll see about that." Nickname(s): Ana Age: 20 Gender: Female Appearance: Anatasia's is around average height of five feet six inches, having a fit body and a slightly plump face. Her dirty blonde hair goes down below her shoulders. It's messy most of the time as she repeatedly runs her hair through it often. Her hazel eyes shine bright a majority of the time but fades when the situation is bad. Ana's evenly pale skin has faint red scars here and there, most visible along her arms and face. Personality: Ana is dependent on anything and anyone at all costs. It doesn't matter what's happening, she has something or someone assisting her in the task. Even when she's alone she has access to somebody else to communicate with somehow. This is mainly due to insecurities and the extreme fear of being alone. However, when talking to people she's either aggressive and sassy or outgoing and open-minded. There's rarely an in between. Fortunately Anastasia is usually quiet and uses hand signals instead of talking. Background: When Anastasia came to the world, she grew up in a worrisome but positive family. Due to the conflict happening throughout the world, her parents wanted to keep their little girl as innocent as possible before she understood what was happening. Years pass and Anastasia didn't know much about people being hunted until her parents were killed for being possible suspects of being the Touched. She has had trauma ever since, depending on them quite often. Anastasia didn't want to get anywhere near the current situation of the abilities and war. It was until now when she found out that she was developing her own abilities, separating her even more from society. She was afraid of how many people that were murdering the Touched. She was going to have the same fate that her parents had, whether they had powers or not. Anastasia searched for others in secret to see if she could form allies to help in her problem. Abilities:* Animal Manipulation * Snow Manipulation * Invisibility Weapon(s): N/A Other: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Streets --- Kyle had memorized several blocks surrounding the park. Where the alleys turn and end and which are divided only by a fence. He ran quickly through them as his goal was to put as much distance between himself and the park as possible. The organization was ruthlessly efficient. They cared little for bystanders and innocents that happened to cross their path. All that mattered to them was the extinction of The Touched and now Kyle was one of them. How they knew he hadn't the slightest idea. All that mattered now was that they did know and Kyle's choices were growing slimmer by the second. He thought he had more time, truth be told. He knew he was manifesting powers, but why at the age of 33 were they happening now? Of course, he knew powers could manifest at any time from infancy to adulthood. Throughout his service he has seen many different types of powers manifest from the benign to the monstrous. He himself wielded a power that aided him in the hunting of the Touched. An irony he was well aware of, perhaps that is why the organization caught on to him. Regardless of all of that, this was the predicament he was in. How the hell are you going to get out of this one? He thought to himself as he slowed his run, approaching a main street. He placed his back against one of the buildings and edged slowly closer to the corner of the building. They were about three blocks away from the park now but that did not mean they were safe. Peering around the corner he saw that it was, for the most part, deserted. Everyone had was gone. Hiding or asleep in their beds. People knew what it meant when the organization was whipping through the streets. It wasn't a secret. The woman said to go where the 'Pale Man Dresses'. To most that would seem incomprehensible, but he knew from a few years ago there was a rumor about a Touched called The Pale Man. He became a bit of a folk hero to those with powers. He was said to embody the most powerful of abilities and was incredibly pale. Unbelievably charismatic, he was a natural leader. Almost like a vampire, some said. There was a secret head shop that dealt with the more taboo and occult things in the city. In the front it was a clothing store like any other but those that had the access were allowed into the basement. He could only hope that this was the place that the woman meant. --- Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store He heard Anastasia talk, but he didn't pay much attention to her. In fact, her speaking at all soured his demeanor. He would deal with it in time, he thought, as he sprinted across the street whilst keeping his profile low. Suddenly a shot rang out. It was faint, but he knew the direction it came from. He only saw one other person in the park and that was the homeless man that was near where the two women sat. No doubt the operatives didn't find his ramblings useful and shot the poor bastard. It wasn't long before they arrived at the side entrance to the store. Kyle tried turning the doorknob but found it locked. Cursing under his breath he looked to his right and left, satisfied there was no one else there. He focused on the handle his hand quivering as whatever essence spilled forth from his being. The latch sprang and the spring within snapped under the pressure. The door flew open only to be caught still as Kyle rose his hand to defy physics. "Inside." he said. He wasn't sure if the woman was following him but as he stepped inside, he waited a second before closing the door. The story was empty and all the lights were off but he made it a point to move as slowly as possible. He didn't want any wanderers spotting him from the outside as he perused the selection of wares. He picked out a nice woolen gray trench coat and a skullcap. Taking off his hoodie, he put on the other cloths, placing his pistol into the right pocket of the coat. "My name is Kyle, he finally said, What is yours?" He began his search for the basement.</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: City Streets --- The lone blonde didn't go out often, barely knowing anywhere else other than the motel area leading on to the park. She wanted to look at all of the details when passing the new places, but she couldn't. Anastasia had to keep up with Kyle as they quickly ran away from the park. The man must be trying to get as much distance as possible in a little amount of time. She already knew there were organizations grouped up to go after the Touched. But how would they already know was the question she had in mind. Cameras? Sensors? Detectors? Ana didn't know, but anything was possible at this point. They just had to choose the right path to take. Occasionally Anastasia would try getting a better look at the man. He seemed a bit older than her, definitely, but only just got his abilities now. She got hers a bit while ago and managed to control the basics. After all, she running behind "Mr. Lucidius" completely invisible. For all she knew, he didn't even remember Anastasia was supposed to be there with him. It didn't matter now. She slowed herself down beside the mercenary, casually standing beside him when he pressed up against the wall. Anastasia was lucky, having to turn invisible and all, then she remembered: If they already knew "Mr. Lucidius" was developing his powers, then they might be able to sense her as well. This made her bolt next to him against the wall, keeping close to him as he looked around the corner. Her cold presence could easily be felt but not seen. What did Victoria say again? "Go to where the Pale Man dresses and we shall discuss more." That was it. "Mr. Lucidius" must be thinking of where to go at that very moment. Just as she thought about his next move, he ran across the street to some sort of clothing store. --- Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store Just as they were crossing the street, Anastasia heard a shot from the distance. She winced as her fingers twitched. They froze over almost immediately. If she wasn't invisible a thin layer of frost could be seen along her fingers. One of the easiest ways to tell she was anxious. Who did they shoot? The only other person there was- Right, of course. He had it coming anyway. Poor guy. The thought of the blood running across the park grounds only made her run across faster. She quickly caught her breath after all that running, and when Anastasia turned back to the locked door- it was already open? The man with her must have opened it while she was distracted. She quickly got inside as told then reappeared in front of him again. She had her hands up against the top of her stomach in a prayer pose, her fingers quivering with the frost on top. It was melting slowly but surely as she looked around. Kyle. Kyle Lucidius, she put together. "Anastasia," the blonde would respond in a whisper while looking around the shop. When going near the front window, she suddenly appeared out of sight again. A pair of Harbinger gloves disappeared from a rack. And you'd think she'd wear gloves to cover her fingers. A brown leather jacket disappeared off. Black shades, gone. As Kyle searched around, Anastasia appeared next to him again. She was switched around with the clothes she chose. She looked completely different, which was perfect. Her previous jacket was across one of her arms as her hands fiddled around with the gloves. Close, open, close open. Whenever her hands opened, her fingers would freeze over. Whenever they closed, the frost quickly went away. She seemed unaffected by the cold. Ana did that with her hands while she watched Kyle look for- whatever he was looking for.</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Pale Dress --- Kyle was methodical. His eyes scanned every nook and cranny of the store. He was looking for the entrance to the basement, of course. There was another door in the rear that may lead to it, but he had to take care of something first. His eyes shifted toward Anastasia, watching as items faded from what seemed like existence. His eyes narrowed and his pace slowed. He ran his hand along the length of a wall, buying himself some time. There were so many questions he needed answers to. He wanted to know how they managed to find out about his manifestation. How they knew of anyone's manifestation. Did they solely work with spies and the disenfranchised eyes of the cities, luring them with promises of riches and rewards? Perhaps it was something far more sinister. When Anastasia appeared next to him, Kyle moved incredibly quickly. His left hand wrapped around her throat, clutching tightly as he propelled her body against the naked wall. His right clutched at his pistol, moving swiftly to her forehead. The weapon worked on a series of safety mechanisms, having to actually grip the pistol to release the first. The second was built into the trigger itself. His finger slowly squeezed the safety catch back and was only a centimeter from releasing the firing pin. He wasn't sure what this woman was capable of, but he doubted she was quicker than an object traveling at 900 feet per second. "Where the fuck did you come from?!" he spat venomously, keeping his voice in a low growl. "Why were you in the park? His grip tightened over her throat, his thumb and fingers pressing into the jugular veins on either side of her neck as the webbing of his hand crushing into her windpipe. He relaxed after a second or two, meant to prove that he was not to be trifled with nor was this an idle threat. Kyle's life hung in the balance and he would do anything to preserve it. At least, until he got the answers he sought and wrought his vengeance against those who did him wrong.</s>	<\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store --- Not even a second after she reappeared, Anatasia was slammed against the wall, a hand wrapped around her throat. She seemed to let out a "Hissss" like a balloon letting out air or a snake in danger. Her immediate action was to claw at the hand that held her against the wall. Anastasia's hands froze over quickly, the hundreds of jagged edges trying to rip through his clothes to his skin. Not even to the meeting with Victoria yet and she was being betrayed? The gun was up against her forehead as she was weakly clawed around against the wall. Seriously? Did he expect her to answer while being in a choke-hold against the wall? Good luck with that. Kyle's webbing was pressing against her windpipe, too. She wasn't going to talk on low oxygen. Even if she could, Anastasia still wouldn't talk. She was an "innocent" Touched in the park. The blonde didn't have any important details. He relaxed to attempt showing he wasn't a threat, but it didn't help at all. Just as Anastasia felt his arm relaxing, both of her hands grabbed onto the one around her neck- and fully froze it over. So she wouldn't be shot from that, she immediately ripped open Kyle's fingers from her neck, the ice cracking as she quickly shuffled down to the floor. Just in case she was going to get kicked or shot from above, Anastasia rolled to the side and hopped back to a standing position. When Anastasia recovered onto her feet, she quickly made the thick frost shatter with a whip of her own frozen hands. "Never do that again," were the first words that escaped her mouth before answering. "Now, if you really want information out of me, keep in mind that I don't do it when held around the neck, even with a weapon against me. I know you're trying to get out of this alive, but threatening the people who are working with you and for the same reason doesn't help." She started with the first question he asked. "If you want the quick answer, I came from the motel down the street from the park." Anastasia would rub around the scratches on her neck and face with thin frost over her fingers in attempt to numb the pain. "And why I was there? The same reason the woman had: find peace, which apparently isn't possible," she spat. Anastasia quickly went invisible before he could try anything else, but didn't move from the place she stood at until the scratches were numb from the cold. After numbing the patches of pain she would silently roam the store again. Kyle was trying to find something against the walls, right? Must be a door or something. Easy. Her hand lightly ran against items in the store so they wouldn't disappear off, checking them for any off feature. Her eyes ran along the floor as well to see if there were any signs.</s>
<\|description\|>Anastasia Hashiga "We'll see about that." Nickname(s): Ana Age: 20 Gender: Female Appearance: Anatasia's is around average height of five feet six inches, having a fit body and a slightly plump face. Her dirty blonde hair goes down below her shoulders. It's messy most of the time as she repeatedly runs her hair through it often. Her hazel eyes shine bright a majority of the time but fades when the situation is bad. Ana's evenly pale skin has faint red scars here and there, most visible along her arms and face. Personality: Ana is dependent on anything and anyone at all costs. It doesn't matter what's happening, she has something or someone assisting her in the task. Even when she's alone she has access to somebody else to communicate with somehow. This is mainly due to insecurities and the extreme fear of being alone. However, when talking to people she's either aggressive and sassy or outgoing and open-minded. There's rarely an in between. Fortunately Anastasia is usually quiet and uses hand signals instead of talking. Background: When Anastasia came to the world, she grew up in a worrisome but positive family. Due to the conflict happening throughout the world, her parents wanted to keep their little girl as innocent as possible before she understood what was happening. Years pass and Anastasia didn't know much about people being hunted until her parents were killed for being possible suspects of being the Touched. She has had trauma ever since, depending on them quite often. Anastasia didn't want to get anywhere near the current situation of the abilities and war. It was until now when she found out that she was developing her own abilities, separating her even more from society. She was afraid of how many people that were murdering the Touched. She was going to have the same fate that her parents had, whether they had powers or not. Anastasia searched for others in secret to see if she could form allies to help in her problem. Abilities:* Animal Manipulation * Snow Manipulation * Invisibility Weapon(s): N/A Other: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Pale Dress --- Kyle was methodical. His eyes scanned every nook and cranny of the store. He was looking for the entrance to the basement, of course. There was another door in the rear that may lead to it, but he had to take care of something first. His eyes shifted toward Anastasia, watching as items faded from what seemed like existence. His eyes narrowed and his pace slowed. He ran his hand along the length of a wall, buying himself some time. There were so many questions he needed answers to. He wanted to know how they managed to find out about his manifestation. How they knew of anyone's manifestation. Did they solely work with spies and the disenfranchised eyes of the cities, luring them with promises of riches and rewards? Perhaps it was something far more sinister. When Anastasia appeared next to him, Kyle moved incredibly quickly. His left hand wrapped around her throat, clutching tightly as he propelled her body against the naked wall. His right clutched at his pistol, moving swiftly to her forehead. The weapon worked on a series of safety mechanisms, having to actually grip the pistol to release the first. The second was built into the trigger itself. His finger slowly squeezed the safety catch back and was only a centimeter from releasing the firing pin. He wasn't sure what this woman was capable of, but he doubted she was quicker than an object traveling at 900 feet per second. "Where the fuck did you come from?!" he spat venomously, keeping his voice in a low growl. "Why were you in the park? His grip tightened over her throat, his thumb and fingers pressing into the jugular veins on either side of her neck as the webbing of his hand crushing into her windpipe. He relaxed after a second or two, meant to prove that he was not to be trifled with nor was this an idle threat. Kyle's life hung in the balance and he would do anything to preserve it. At least, until he got the answers he sought and wrought his vengeance against those who did him wrong.</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store --- Not even a second after she reappeared, Anatasia was slammed against the wall, a hand wrapped around her throat. She seemed to let out a "Hissss" like a balloon letting out air or a snake in danger. Her immediate action was to claw at the hand that held her against the wall. Anastasia's hands froze over quickly, the hundreds of jagged edges trying to rip through his clothes to his skin. Not even to the meeting with Victoria yet and she was being betrayed? The gun was up against her forehead as she was weakly clawed around against the wall. Seriously? Did he expect her to answer while being in a choke-hold against the wall? Good luck with that. Kyle's webbing was pressing against her windpipe, too. She wasn't going to talk on low oxygen. Even if she could, Anastasia still wouldn't talk. She was an "innocent" Touched in the park. The blonde didn't have any important details. He relaxed to attempt showing he wasn't a threat, but it didn't help at all. Just as Anastasia felt his arm relaxing, both of her hands grabbed onto the one around her neck- and fully froze it over. So she wouldn't be shot from that, she immediately ripped open Kyle's fingers from her neck, the ice cracking as she quickly shuffled down to the floor. Just in case she was going to get kicked or shot from above, Anastasia rolled to the side and hopped back to a standing position. When Anastasia recovered onto her feet, she quickly made the thick frost shatter with a whip of her own frozen hands. "Never do that again," were the first words that escaped her mouth before answering. "Now, if you really want information out of me, keep in mind that I don't do it when held around the neck, even with a weapon against me. I know you're trying to get out of this alive, but threatening the people who are working with you and for the same reason doesn't help." She started with the first question he asked. "If you want the quick answer, I came from the motel down the street from the park." Anastasia would rub around the scratches on her neck and face with thin frost over her fingers in attempt to numb the pain. "And why I was there? The same reason the woman had: find peace, which apparently isn't possible," she spat. Anastasia quickly went invisible before he could try anything else, but didn't move from the place she stood at until the scratches were numb from the cold. After numbing the patches of pain she would silently roam the store again. Kyle was trying to find something against the walls, right? Must be a door or something. Easy. Her hand lightly ran against items in the store so they wouldn't disappear off, checking them for any off feature. Her eyes ran along the floor as well to see if there were any signs.</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Pale Dress --- That was two powers he witnessed from her. The ability to cloak herself to her surroundings and slow the vibrations of matter, freezing things over. Very interesting. Kyle rarely did things out of character or in the heat of the moment. Yes, he was attempting to gain intelligence from the woman, which she freely gave after the fact, but he also discovered her innate talents. It was a risky endeavor, as she could have proved to have a much more dangerous ability. He remembered a teenage boy he dealt with some years ago. Brian, he believed his name was. A quadriplegic rendered useless in a state-of-the-art wheelchair but soon his powers began to the manifest. They ranged from inhibiting psychosomatic hallucinations in his victims to completely taking over their nervous systems. A string of random suicides lead Kyle to Chicago where he resided. They all had one common denominator among them and it was this boy. From nurses to doctors to insurance professionals. Those that screwed him or his family over soon met a tragic end. When the ice coated his left hand, he recoiled back, clutching it to his chest as he took a step backwards. He looked at Anastasia and holstered his pistol into his waist band, turning his back toward her. His hand began to heat up, his internal body temperature rising as he pushed the heat to the affected area. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his fingers, the ice melting almost as quickly as it had appeared. After the woman ended her rant, his voice softly carried through the empty store, "Keep in mind who the predator in the room is. Make yourself useful and look for any signs of the Resistance." The Resistance was a group of Touched that found each other a few years ago. It was in response to the establishment of the H.B.C.T.U., or, the Human Biological Counter-Terrorism Unit. This was the organization tasked with the research, tracking, and extermination of the Touched. At first it started out with good intentions. Those that would use their powers for evil were hunted with extreme prejudice but then a bill was passed in the federal government. Due to the increasing presence of the Touched, fear and panic was rampant. Akin to how Nazi propaganda during World War II, there were those in government that sculpted problems and pushed these fears across the public. The Afflicted Persons bill passed and the War on Terror took a turn for the worst. Prisons could not be built in time to house these individuals and a green light was given to the systematic murder of thousands. Kyle was part of the HBCTU. Or, rather, was... His ran across a wall, his finger tapping occasionally to see if there was a false wall. In one instance it felt hollow, but such a thing wasn't possible. This wall was against the brick structure of the building. Of course, he has seen weird things in the past several years. "Here..." He began looking around the wall for anything. What he found was something interesting. Near the floor behind a shelving unit, he noticed small runic patterns burnt into the wood itself. As his finger passed over them, they shimmered in an amber color. Suddenly, the wall faded from existence and revealed a circular staircase leading into darkness. He leaned over the side and peered into the abyss, his hand reaching for his weapon. Holding it to his side, he looked around for the woman.</s>	<\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store --- The predator? And who was that exactly? It must have been what he mentioned, the Resistance. Anastasia barely remembered what they were. If she remembered correctly, they were a group of other Touched people that "took care" of their own kind. But wouldn't that mean Kyle is- was part of it? He was tasked to kill the woman after all. Now he's getting chased down, too. This time, instead of asking him questions, Anastasia kept silent while checking around the store for clues. When she heard the faint mutter of the word "Here", a quick turn of her heel got her to face his direction. Kyle was at a wall - but also the same one against the brick structure of the building. What was so special about that? What was the difference in all of the other parts of the wall? Anatasia frowned slightly before walking around the tables and racks to be near Kyle. She kept her distance just in case he did something wrong, but close enough to follow his exact movements around the wall. Kyle seemed to have found something behind a shelving unit near the floor. Ana got curious to see it, using one leg to lean forward on and look over his shoulder. Rune patterns burnt in. Now that was something she could easily recognize. Anastasia saw them in shows, online, even occasionally passed or caught them on her free time. She managed to learn a few symbols, traps, and sigils herself as well. The woman would do them using ice instead of frost, the markings too clear for someone to see, having to use touch to actually find them. Maybe she could use them for this. Just as the man touched the rune patterns, the wall that he checked earlier disappeared from sight, like it faded from existence. A staircase was circling down into the darkness. He was trying to find the- basement? Seriously? Out of all things? Actually, Anastasia shouldn't be asking that. What about him triggering a fire runes? No, wait. The question just answered itself. But it's always good to make sure, isn't it? She looked back to Kyle, who was already next to the staircase with his gun to his side. He must have been trying to look for sign of- Victoria? That was right. Anatasia's face shifted to a neutral expression before reappearing back next to him. She still felt uneasy appearing so close to him, but she had to anyway. "So Mister Fire, are you just going to stand around or go in? We were looking for this to enter or do it out of spite? she asked in a low voice, rolling her eyes afterwards.</s>
<\|description\|>Andromedai Morgenstern Age: 30 Sex: Female Rank: Striker Commander Appearance: Weapons: Primary: Sniper Rifle System 99-Series 5 Anti-Matériel (SRS99-S5 AM) Secondary: M20/PDW-Silenced Items/Gear: A: Fragmentation Grenades (2) B: Explosive Charges (2) C: Flash Bangs (2) History: (CLASSIFIED) Personality: As a Class Four Spartan, Andromedai has a will of iron that is matched by her steadfast determination to thoroughly eliminate all hostiles that threaten the UNSC and all of Mankind. Some may call her reckless, but in truth she carefully plans out each of her actions before swiftly putting them into motion, there is no room for mistakes upon the battlefield. When upon the battlefield, she is straight minded and tactically sound. She will carry out her orders swiftly and to the letter but also stand among Team Rogue Seven, no matter where it will take her. At times, she can be unpredictable, using her creativity to overcome whatever challenges that are tossed her way. While not on a mission, she can be seen as a friendly, sarcastic woman with a sharp sense of humor, compassionate and willing to do whatever it takes for a mission to succeed.</s> <\|message\|>Koda 'Pouncer' Omicron - F428 Location: In-route to Space Station Colistis. Date: Year 2557 Universal Time: 10:53 The Pelican ride seemed to be quiet for the most part except the quiet chatter between the two pilots and the low hum of the engines. In the very back, on the left-most side sat Koda completely outfitted in his armor, he was in the process of going over the message that he had received from ONI, glancing over briefly he looked at his cybernetic arm which was fitted to look similar to his armor in both color and design, and had ports where his the armor pieces could be attached and unattached if need be. Standing from his seat he made his way up to the cockpit of the ship and looked out towards the space station that was getting ever so closer, the dim hull lights reflecting off his skulled visor made him look quite eerie as he tapped the co-pilot on the shoulder then pointed towards the station. "Yes sir that's it, we'll be landing soon and we'll get you as close as we can to your destination" the co-pilot said and was given a thumbs up by Koda in response as the Spartan turned on his heels and headed back to his seat. "UNSC Space Station Colistis this is Foxtrot 728 requesting permission to land in Pelican bay A33" he heard the pilot call out as he sat down. "Copy Foxtrot 728, Permission granted, Colistis out". Soon after the Pelican began to slow it's speed and start its approach into the Pelican bay, as it did Koda looked from his seat and out thought the cockpit window as the heavy blast-doors opened slowly, the lights from inside the station shined brightly though the window and illuminated the back of the interior of the pelican slightly. Is was not long before the Pelican was in the station and Koda heard the blast-doors closing once more before the ramp of the pelican opened, standing Koda reached up and grabbed a hold of the handle rack above him as he ship began to land, reaching down he grabbed the holopad from the seat beside him and stepped off the ship as it set down. Location: Space Station Colistis. Date: Year 2557 Universal Time: 11:18 Walking away from the pelican Koda immediately noticed Charon-class light frigate with the name 'Nova' along the side 'That must be it...' he thought as he walked down the pathway towards the lift that would lead up to the main docking platform. Once on the lift he pressed the button and it stated to rise, his mind wandered slightly as to what the rest of squad had been up to and if that had gotten into as much trouble as he had. The lift shook as it reached the top snapping Koda back into reality and soon he was back on his way towards the Nova,stepping into the airlock Koda was greeted by two heavily geared guards who informed him of where to go after opening the doors for him. Upon setting foot onto the ship the large Spartan was greeted by the ships AI unit "Welcome Major Omicron, I'm Nesalla, Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant aboard the ship. Colonel Icarus and Striker Commander Andromedai are currently awaiting your arrival upon the deck of the ship. Please make your way there, and if you need any assistance please don't be shy to ask." Koda nodded in response and immediately headed for the main deck, following the illuminated signs made it easy for Koda to get to the main deck, it was a lot easier to navigate the the science station he was assigned to previously. Walking onto the main deck he saw Colonel Icarus and his Striker Commander Andromedai, stopping a few feet away from them he stood at attention and saluted using his cybernetic arm "Pouncer, reporting for duty"</s> <\|message\|>Gerard Wulff Space Station Colistis Year 2557 1053 A lone Pelican dropship came into view. Gerard starred at it intently, watching the ship slowly making a landing approach. In the background, an electronic voice was emitting from his PDA. "SPARTAN 396, Master Gunnery Sargent Gerard Wulff, you are hereby being reassigned to Rogue Seven. Report to Space Station Colistis and wait further instructions." The words echoed in the emptiness of the lone Spartan's room. "Replay message." His voice was gruff and low. "SPARTAN 396, Master Gunnery Sargent Gerard..." The voice trailed off, repeating the same message. Wulff couldn't believe that his old team was being brought back together. Rogue Seven was one of the top SPARTAN teams, excelling at every mission they were given. After the break up, Gerard was reassigned to train new Class 4 SPARTANS and several highly classified solo operations. The Pelican disappeared from view as it landed within Docking Bay AA3. A voice, different from the one that emitted from the PDA, broke the silence. "Master Gunnery Sargent Wulff, Greetings. I am Nesalla, Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant aboard the ship. Colonel Icarus, Strike Commander Andromedai Morgenstern, and Major Koda Omnicron are waiting you abroad the deck on Colonel Icarus' ship. If you could follow the illuminated signs, they will direct you to them. If you have any questions or require any assistance, please ask." Wulff turned to face the AI. "When did Strike Commander Morgenstern and Major Omnicron arrive?" his voice retaining its tone. "Strike Commander Andromedai Morgenstern arrived quite some time before you. Major Koda Omnicron has only just arrived." The AI replied quickly. "Do you have any further questions?" Nesalla added in. Gerard waved the AI off, leaving him alone in his room again. The Spartan donned his helmet and retrieved his PDA before exiting his room. As he followed the signs, he pasted many of those on the station. They all looked at him in awe, as he towered over them, his footsteps were heavy from his armor. A line of marines doing calisthenics in one of the bays all stopped. "Is that a Spartan? I didn't know they were on board!" The marines ran over to watch Gerard, but were quickly scolded by their CO. "Quit oogling like a couple of school girls! I want seventy-five more push ups and then a run around the station in full suit!" the CO barked at his marines. The marines all moaned in unison, dreading the upcoming run. As Gerard entered docking bay AA3, he noticed the Charon-class light frigate, the word 'NOVA' boldly painted on the side. The AI reappeared on a pedestal near Gerard. "Please, continue forth, Master Gunnery Sarge-" The Spartan raised his hand to silence the AI. "Call me Wulff." he said coldly. "Of course, Master Gunner- Wulff." She smiled. The Spartan noticed the pelican he saw earlier. Nesalla chimed in "Major Koda Omnicron is already on deck, Wulff." The man nodded and continued forth towards the ship. Arriving at the airlock, two guards opened it. One of them told him where to go and whom was there. The door hissed closed behind him and he made his way to the main deck. As he made his way in, he could see Colonel Icarus, the Strike Commander, and Koda. He made his way next to Koda. Immediately stopping next to Koda, he stood at attention and snapped into a salute. "Spartan 396, Master Gunnery Sargent Gerard Wulff, reporting in." Without moving his head, Gerard peered over at Koda. He was relieved to see him. Koda Omnicron was a man of little words and a lot of action, which Gerard respected and what made him like Koda the most compared to his other teammates.</s> <\|message\|>Riley Parish Inner Colonies - Space Station Colistis - Year 2557 - Universal Time: 11:26 --- --- Riley sat in the back of the pelican as it flew through space towards Station Colistis, her steel colored helmet laid on the seat next to her the visor was a dark red mainly for the intimidation factor with small areas of red with the same detail on the rest of her RAIDER armor. "Lieutenant Parish, ETA to Colistis five minutes." Riley looked towards the pilot and gave him a quick smile and nod as she stood up and made her way towards the end of the pelican. Since the team was disbanded Riley had been assigned to covert missions in former control Covenant space gathering intel for ONI. About five minutes later the Pelican entered one of the many hangar bays on the station, she put on her helmet briefly getting a layout of the station finding the quickest route to the hangar that she was ordered to meet at. Once the bay to the pelican opened up Riley stepped off of the ramp and into the brightly lit hangar, she looked at several of the soldiers remembering her former days as a UNSC grunt. She tied her long brown hair into a pony tail as she started making her way through the hallways until she was at Docking Bay AA3, she saw a couple of civilians that worked on the station they had the in awe look at her. The Spartan gave a smile towards the people as she made her way towards the docking bay, once she was inside Riley noticed the Charon Light-Frigate that was docked there. "Good day Lieutenant Parish, I am Nesalla, Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant aboard the ship, Wulf, Koda and Andromedai are all ready in just follow the illuminated lights." The AI said before disappearing Riley already knew where to actually go as she grew up sometimes traveling with her parents. She made her way towards the deck of the ship, the Spartan smiled brightly at the three former squad mates of Rogue Seven. She moved over and gave Koda and Wulf quick friendly hugs and then saluted Andromedai. "It's good to see all of you again."</s>	<\|message\|>Andromedai Morgenstern In the middle of the bridge, there was a large table that had a holographic projector built into it. From here, both Strike Commander Andromedai and Colonel Icarus were reviewing the information about the mission they were about to embark on. Important informing was slowly being Suddenly fed from ONI, directly to their ship. Most of the information was already common knowledge but parts of it were quite intriguing. This information included knowledge about the forerunners but also mention about team Osiris and Blue Team. Suddenly, the fully formed digital figure of Nesalla appeared upon the table with her arms crossed over her chest. Once she had everyone's attention, she spoke. "My apologies if I am interrupting but I just received word that we have discovered the crash location of the Argent Dawn upon Erathell. Recent scans show that there have been no lifeforms or activity upon the Argent Dawn in the last twenty four hours. If Solares was on the ship, she isn't there anymore. After hearing the message for myself, I am willing to guess that she engaged some hostile force while taking shelter upon the ship and was then forced the flee using her active camouflage. Due to the severity of her injuries, it is unlikely she made it that far. I do not like to consider this a possibility but she may have been captured by the Covenant or by any active Prometheans upon Erathell. Regardless of what has transpired with her, we need to make our way to Erathell as quickly as possible." Both Andromedai and Icarus agreed on that, but they couldn't leave until all of Rogue Seven was onboard and ready to depart. Andromedai sighed then spoke her mind, "I went through complete Spartan training with Solares, she is more of an older sister to me than a friend. I have complete faith that she can hold her ground and remain out of the enemies hands until we arrive." These words were spoken only a few seconds before the first of Rogue Seven appeared upon the bridge. Now, three of her squad mates stood in front of her as an odd feeling ran through her body. "Pounce, Wulff, Riley, at ease..." Andromedai looked each of her old squad mates over with a nod of great approval. "ONI never should have broken up Rogue Seven, we could have made a huge difference back in the day, but enough living in the past." Turning to face the table in the middle of the bridge, Andromedai quickly gave orders for Nesalla to all the information about the mission with them. The briefing went on for a while as every last detail was explained and laid out before Rogue Seven. "That is all we have to go by, we know Solares is somewhere down upon the surface of the planet, either hiding from all sources or captured from the enemy. As impressive as Solares's records and skills look, being severely wounded and alone upon a planet with potentially two hostiles is going to push her to her limits. If my records are correct, which they always are, we are missing a few more members of Rogue Seven. Once they arrive, we will depart immediately for the ONI station and the Orion. If there are any questions, I will do my best to answer them before we depart."</s>
<\|description\|>Riley Parish Age: 35 Sex: Female Rank: Lieutenant Appearance: Weapons: MA5D ICWS M6D Magnum 3x Frag grenades. Items/Gear: First aid kit, 3x clips for both weapons. History: Riley was originally born and raised on Mars, both of her parents were apart of the UNSC Navy both of them were commanding their own ships, they were veterans fighting against the insurrectionists. When the war with the Covenant started Riley was born and her mother was on leave to raise her daughter, growing up she lived a pretty normal life she rarely ever saw her father due to the war. But she decided to become a marine and fight on the frontlines and help defend humanity even though they were losing the war. She rose through the ranks of the marines very quickly, that was when her superior suggested that she go for the ODST's. Riley spent several long grueling months to a year through their intensive training, which she eventually passed, when the Battle of Reach started that was where she had heard the news of the death of her mother and father. Riley was stationed on one of the defense platforms on Earth when the UNSC ordered the homefleet back to the Sol System to defend Earth, that's when Regrets fleet came through. She and her squad defended against their Covenant borders as the Covenant started planting bombs on the defense platforms. When the UNSC finally got most of the Covenant off the second wave carrying Truth's fleet to Earth came several weeks later. She was one of the few to battle against the Covenant at Voi, then the Flood came to Earth and the Arbiter's fleet came in glassing half of the continent just to prevent the flood from taking over. She was apart of the uneasy alliance with the Covenant separatists and fought at The Lesser Ark, when the war ended Riley was approached by some men and women recruiting her due to her service record which she agreed to. She went through the long training and then the augmentation process, which she survived the procedure as well as training taking sometime she got used to them. She was then assigned to the Spartan Fireteam Rogue Seven alongside Andromedai. Personality: Riley is usually seen as a very calm and collected person a lot of the time, it is very rare to see her get stressed out in combat. She is known to crack some jokes just to try and lighten the mood of the other squadmates and will take the time to try and get to know all of them when she has the time to.</s> <\|message\|>Riley Parish Inner Colonies - Space Station Colistis - Year 2557 - Universal Time: 11:26 --- --- Riley sat in the back of the pelican as it flew through space towards Station Colistis, her steel colored helmet laid on the seat next to her the visor was a dark red mainly for the intimidation factor with small areas of red with the same detail on the rest of her RAIDER armor. "Lieutenant Parish, ETA to Colistis five minutes." Riley looked towards the pilot and gave him a quick smile and nod as she stood up and made her way towards the end of the pelican. Since the team was disbanded Riley had been assigned to covert missions in former control Covenant space gathering intel for ONI. About five minutes later the Pelican entered one of the many hangar bays on the station, she put on her helmet briefly getting a layout of the station finding the quickest route to the hangar that she was ordered to meet at. Once the bay to the pelican opened up Riley stepped off of the ramp and into the brightly lit hangar, she looked at several of the soldiers remembering her former days as a UNSC grunt. She tied her long brown hair into a pony tail as she started making her way through the hallways until she was at Docking Bay AA3, she saw a couple of civilians that worked on the station they had the in awe look at her. The Spartan gave a smile towards the people as she made her way towards the docking bay, once she was inside Riley noticed the Charon Light-Frigate that was docked there. "Good day Lieutenant Parish, I am Nesalla, Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant aboard the ship, Wulf, Koda and Andromedai are all ready in just follow the illuminated lights." The AI said before disappearing Riley already knew where to actually go as she grew up sometimes traveling with her parents. She made her way towards the deck of the ship, the Spartan smiled brightly at the three former squad mates of Rogue Seven. She moved over and gave Koda and Wulf quick friendly hugs and then saluted Andromedai. "It's good to see all of you again."</s> <\|message\|>Andromedai Morgenstern In the middle of the bridge, there was a large table that had a holographic projector built into it. From here, both Strike Commander Andromedai and Colonel Icarus were reviewing the information about the mission they were about to embark on. Important informing was slowly being Suddenly fed from ONI, directly to their ship. Most of the information was already common knowledge but parts of it were quite intriguing. This information included knowledge about the forerunners but also mention about team Osiris and Blue Team. Suddenly, the fully formed digital figure of Nesalla appeared upon the table with her arms crossed over her chest. Once she had everyone's attention, she spoke. "My apologies if I am interrupting but I just received word that we have discovered the crash location of the Argent Dawn upon Erathell. Recent scans show that there have been no lifeforms or activity upon the Argent Dawn in the last twenty four hours. If Solares was on the ship, she isn't there anymore. After hearing the message for myself, I am willing to guess that she engaged some hostile force while taking shelter upon the ship and was then forced the flee using her active camouflage. Due to the severity of her injuries, it is unlikely she made it that far. I do not like to consider this a possibility but she may have been captured by the Covenant or by any active Prometheans upon Erathell. Regardless of what has transpired with her, we need to make our way to Erathell as quickly as possible." Both Andromedai and Icarus agreed on that, but they couldn't leave until all of Rogue Seven was onboard and ready to depart. Andromedai sighed then spoke her mind, "I went through complete Spartan training with Solares, she is more of an older sister to me than a friend. I have complete faith that she can hold her ground and remain out of the enemies hands until we arrive." These words were spoken only a few seconds before the first of Rogue Seven appeared upon the bridge. Now, three of her squad mates stood in front of her as an odd feeling ran through her body. "Pounce, Wulff, Riley, at ease..." Andromedai looked each of her old squad mates over with a nod of great approval. "ONI never should have broken up Rogue Seven, we could have made a huge difference back in the day, but enough living in the past." Turning to face the table in the middle of the bridge, Andromedai quickly gave orders for Nesalla to all the information about the mission with them. The briefing went on for a while as every last detail was explained and laid out before Rogue Seven. "That is all we have to go by, we know Solares is somewhere down upon the surface of the planet, either hiding from all sources or captured from the enemy. As impressive as Solares's records and skills look, being severely wounded and alone upon a planet with potentially two hostiles is going to push her to her limits. If my records are correct, which they always are, we are missing a few more members of Rogue Seven. Once they arrive, we will depart immediately for the ONI station and the Orion. If there are any questions, I will do my best to answer them before we depart."</s> <\|message\|>Carly Renton Carly's trip was quiet and lonesome. The only noise coming from the beeping of her data pad, and the occasional rumble of the engines. There was a swish from the cockpit door, as the co-pilot walked in and saluted to her, without looking up Carly spoke; "Drop the formalities Marine It's been too long a trip, how far out are we?" The marine looked quite awkward as he dropped his stance to a more casual position."We're just coming in on the station, now, you've been directed to Dock AA3", the marine promptly walked out and left Carly to her mission reports. As the pelican touched down, she grabbed her satchel and jumped out the back. Leaving a few credits on her seat. She put on her helmet and made her way to the Docking bay. She knew she would already be late she had one heck of a journey. She made her way to the location given to her by the pilot, not after stopping to pick something up at the nearest mess hall She knew it was going to be a long journey, after all, it had to be important to ONI to bring back Rogue seven. After picking up a sandwich and throwing it in her satchel she ran to docking bay provided to her. Just as she was about to enter the ship she was interrupted by an AI, "Hello Sargeant Renton, I am Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant, you may refer to me as Nesalla Your squadmates are already on board the bridge." The AI spoke calmly with a sense of authority about it. "Thank you, How late am I?" The reply came swiftly; "You are currently ten minutes late, Strike Commander Andromedai is just finishing up, I suggest you hurry Sargeant" Carly dismissed the Ai and made her way quickly to the Bridge just as Nesalla had ended. "Sergeant Renton reporting in." She turned to Andromedai. "Apologies for the delay ma'am, Had a bit of a trip," She inspected those that had arrived, It had been sometime Since they had been together, She just hoped that the bonds they had formed had still stayed intact. Carly checked her Datapad and just as expected Nesalla had, luckily for Carly, already sent the details to her. Carly took off her helmet and examined the details, Trying to find as many possible scenarios as possible. "I have no questions, But if possible I would like Nessalla to Send me the latest basic medical forms for the strike team, recent injuries, and all that jazz, The standard procedure," As much as Carly wanted to sit down and catch up she knew she had a job to do first.</s> <\|message\|>Gerard Wulff "It's good to see all of you again." Gerard smiled underneath his helmet and gave Riley's shoulder a quick pat in response to the hug. "It's good to see you as well, Riley." the Spartan said in a soft gentle voice. His stance relaxed. The fact that his 'brothers' and 'sisters' were all coming together again put him at ease. He never felt so isolated and exposed when he was without them. But, those were darker times and he had so much to look forward to with Rogue Seven coming back together. If there are any questions, I will do my best to answer them before we depart." "Striker Commander, this seems to be a cloak and dagger Op. Why do we require the Orion? From what I have heard, and not much, it seems to be a heavy class ship. Don't you think it'll turn a few heads?" He encircled the holo-table, his eyes darting between his teammates. His foot steps were heavy and echoed slightly. He stopped shortly before Andromedai. The Spartan stood silently, unable to find his words. He wanted to ask what if Solares was dead, but instead he continued encircling the table. He knew losing a Spartan would be a big impact of morale all across the UNSC. ONI's Directive 930 was revoked some time ago, revealing the status of all Spartans. These super-soldiers remained super, but the title of immortality faded. In his head he thought, Spartans never die. Carly entered, a sight for sore and weary eyes. "I have no questions, But if possible I would like Nessalla to Send me the latest basic medical forms for the strike team, recent injuries, and all that jazz, The standard procedure," "Well, Carly, I did pull a muscle on my way here, so if you'd like to take a look at that, be my guest." Wulff jested. He made his way over to her. His voice was but a whisper, "You were missed." His voice seemed shaky and sorrowful, but peaked right back up to it's gruff and low tone. "But, about that muscle, it is killing me. I am not going to do this mission with a pulled hamstring." He stated with a coy grin.</s> <\|message\|>Koda 'Pouncer' Omicron - F428 Koda glanced back at Riley when he was hugged and in return he gave her a nod, when given the order to relax he turned and hugged Riley back before moving up to the holo-table with Gerard, but upon hearing Carly enter he looked back at her and motioned to his wrist and tapped it as if to say she was late. Moving back to the holo-pad he examined it closely and folded his arms. "Striker Commander, this seems to be a cloak and dagger Op. Why do we require the Orion? From what I have heard, and not much, it seems to be a heavy class ship. Don't you think it'll turn a few heads?" Koda had to agree with Wulff on this one, it seemed a bit excessive unless they where planning something more. "I have several questions as well. What kind of terrain are we looking at, should we split the group in two for better coverage of the area, and what are we to do if Solares is captured, do you want us to move to eliminate if rescue is out of the question, I apologize of I sound rather cold on this Boss but I'm trying to take in possible scenarios that could take place. Koda said looking at Andromedai. Normally Koda would never voice something like that but it was something he needed to take into consideration, It was a question like this that could easily hurt reputation. But it also show he was willing to do something that others where not in-order to get the job done. "I have no questions, But if possible I would like Nessalla to Send me the latest basic medical forms for the strike team, recent injuries, and all that jazz, The standard procedure," Looking at his own datapad he pulled up everything that Carly would need to know about him when they where disbanded before whistling to get her attention then tossing the datapad to her "I'll need that back when your done with it" he said then turned and walked away from the holo-table and began to pace slightly as he thought. "Coveys are gonna pay for this" he mumbled to himself.</s>	<\|message\|>Riley Parish Riley smiled back at her squadmates as she took a step back and leaned up against the wall as she listened in on the briefing as she turned her head and saw Carly coming in another female squadmate that she enjoyed hanging out during their off time between ops. "It's great to see you again Carly." Riley said with a smile as she looked back towards Andromedai she looked over towards Wulf asking about the Orion and knew the answer as she had spent her time since the team disbanded in the outer colonies as well as Covenant Space. "Erathel is on the edge of UNSC space, so the threats out there are Kig-Yar pirates, Insurrectionists as well as the Covenant Remnant. And obviously any of those groups would attack easy picking targets on the spot, this also shows that the UNSC still has its strength despite the end of the war." Riley said. She turned to look up at Andromedai for a moment and ran a hand through her hair. "That's about the gist I know of current politics within the outer colonies." She turned to look over at Carly once more and smiled at her. "Well you could always just pull us all aside one by one and do the usual medical questions to, also catch up on all the good old times as well."</s>
<\|description\|>Carly Renton Age: 29 Sex: Female Rank: Sargeant Weapons: M392 Designated Marksman Rifle, M6D pistol Items/Gear: Advanced medical kit, Bio-Foam, 2x Fragmentation-grenades History: To ONI Operative 240, Carly started off life in a small village in the United kingdom, born in a large family of farmers she initially wanted to become a doctor, but after the human covenant war started, she soon started to train in order to conscript, and at the age of she enlisted as a medical officer, proceeding to do her medical training and was soon shipped out to help on the front line. Carly had an interesting start to her military career, Initially starting in the marines she participated in the battle of Battle of Sigma Octanus IV and was one of the last survivors, alongside her companion Marine 022, of the marine forces on the planet, only managing to survive by sealing off the medical area of the Alpha HQ having to defend it against covenant until the strike force returned. After that operation, Carly was stationed on one of the orbiting space stations above reach, doing essential medical surgeries on casualties on the planet below. After reach fell she was evacuated back to earth where she had a week of shore leave where she met up with her family, but unfortunately was stationed on New Mombasa just before the slip space incident. Her Squad all perished on the mission forcing Carly to hike along side ODSTs, taking the place of their deceased medical officer, and helping them to evacuate the residential district and eventually destroy a covenant operating base. Just outside the city. After the operation, Carly was recommended for an ODST position but thankfully declined, the reasons she gave, being that she was "otherwise engaged." But as her Acting commanding officer, I believe it was for other reasons. after she was approached she was given a Recon position in UNSC with marine 022, after many missions the both of them were approached to enlist in the Spartan 4 program. After her rehabilitation period she underwent a psychiatric assessment as all Spartans must and just to outline the results; the psychiatrist mentioned that "she carried some trauma about lost comrades on her first mission, and often is too quick to blame herself for when something goes wrong, though it seems spartan 022 seems to be helping her through, I would recommend that they paired together upon future missions." after an incident on a mission behind enemy lines, Spartan 022 was shot in the head by an elite and was instantly killed, Carly completed the reconnaissance and carried his body back to their drop ship. where she buried his body and left the planet. After the incident, ONI picked up on her skills and she was enlisted in the Rouge seven fireteam. Besides that, There's not much I can tell you that's already in her ONI file, and not classified, Attached is also a list of most notable missions, and mission outcomes that might come in handy for some pre-mission reading. --- OPERATION GOLDEN SPIRE OBJECTIVE Set up and keep control of HQ Alpha OUTCOME Victory, at a high cost. CASUALTIES Whole of squad Bravo 44 designated KIA, except Marine Bravo 021 currently refusing medical treatment. OPERATION GOLDEN TRIANGLE OBJECTIVE: Evacuate Civilians from residential district of New Mombasa OUTCOME: Success. Bravo 021 reassigned to ODST squad Echo-03 in order to aid in OPERATION FLAMING SPEAR. CASUALTIES: Delta 46 Designated MIA. OPERATION FALLING HAMMER OBJECTIVE: Gather information on Covenant Fleet Master, and flagship "Vigilant Redemption" OUTCOME: Operation Success CASUALTIES: Spartan 022 designated MIA --- I wish you the Best of Luck upon your operation, her transport has already been re-routed to the coordinates provided. -Commander Bradley Personality: Carly isn't one of those people you can describe in a sentence; on a mission, she is a complex mix of emotions and calculations. If in conversation with her old teammates they would explain that during a mission you can almost hear her running combat possibilities in her head, However during a mission break, Carly seems to change personality, switching from a combat drilled machine into a calm relaxed being, preferring to sit and drink with comrades. She has recently been a Bit shaken due to her loss and has received a psychiatric assessment, and is considered fit for duty.</s> <\|message\|>Riley Parish Inner Colonies - Space Station Colistis - Year 2557 - Universal Time: 11:26 --- --- Riley sat in the back of the pelican as it flew through space towards Station Colistis, her steel colored helmet laid on the seat next to her the visor was a dark red mainly for the intimidation factor with small areas of red with the same detail on the rest of her RAIDER armor. "Lieutenant Parish, ETA to Colistis five minutes." Riley looked towards the pilot and gave him a quick smile and nod as she stood up and made her way towards the end of the pelican. Since the team was disbanded Riley had been assigned to covert missions in former control Covenant space gathering intel for ONI. About five minutes later the Pelican entered one of the many hangar bays on the station, she put on her helmet briefly getting a layout of the station finding the quickest route to the hangar that she was ordered to meet at. Once the bay to the pelican opened up Riley stepped off of the ramp and into the brightly lit hangar, she looked at several of the soldiers remembering her former days as a UNSC grunt. She tied her long brown hair into a pony tail as she started making her way through the hallways until she was at Docking Bay AA3, she saw a couple of civilians that worked on the station they had the in awe look at her. The Spartan gave a smile towards the people as she made her way towards the docking bay, once she was inside Riley noticed the Charon Light-Frigate that was docked there. "Good day Lieutenant Parish, I am Nesalla, Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant aboard the ship, Wulf, Koda and Andromedai are all ready in just follow the illuminated lights." The AI said before disappearing Riley already knew where to actually go as she grew up sometimes traveling with her parents. She made her way towards the deck of the ship, the Spartan smiled brightly at the three former squad mates of Rogue Seven. She moved over and gave Koda and Wulf quick friendly hugs and then saluted Andromedai. "It's good to see all of you again."</s> <\|message\|>Andromedai Morgenstern In the middle of the bridge, there was a large table that had a holographic projector built into it. From here, both Strike Commander Andromedai and Colonel Icarus were reviewing the information about the mission they were about to embark on. Important informing was slowly being Suddenly fed from ONI, directly to their ship. Most of the information was already common knowledge but parts of it were quite intriguing. This information included knowledge about the forerunners but also mention about team Osiris and Blue Team. Suddenly, the fully formed digital figure of Nesalla appeared upon the table with her arms crossed over her chest. Once she had everyone's attention, she spoke. "My apologies if I am interrupting but I just received word that we have discovered the crash location of the Argent Dawn upon Erathell. Recent scans show that there have been no lifeforms or activity upon the Argent Dawn in the last twenty four hours. If Solares was on the ship, she isn't there anymore. After hearing the message for myself, I am willing to guess that she engaged some hostile force while taking shelter upon the ship and was then forced the flee using her active camouflage. Due to the severity of her injuries, it is unlikely she made it that far. I do not like to consider this a possibility but she may have been captured by the Covenant or by any active Prometheans upon Erathell. Regardless of what has transpired with her, we need to make our way to Erathell as quickly as possible." Both Andromedai and Icarus agreed on that, but they couldn't leave until all of Rogue Seven was onboard and ready to depart. Andromedai sighed then spoke her mind, "I went through complete Spartan training with Solares, she is more of an older sister to me than a friend. I have complete faith that she can hold her ground and remain out of the enemies hands until we arrive." These words were spoken only a few seconds before the first of Rogue Seven appeared upon the bridge. Now, three of her squad mates stood in front of her as an odd feeling ran through her body. "Pounce, Wulff, Riley, at ease..." Andromedai looked each of her old squad mates over with a nod of great approval. "ONI never should have broken up Rogue Seven, we could have made a huge difference back in the day, but enough living in the past." Turning to face the table in the middle of the bridge, Andromedai quickly gave orders for Nesalla to all the information about the mission with them. The briefing went on for a while as every last detail was explained and laid out before Rogue Seven. "That is all we have to go by, we know Solares is somewhere down upon the surface of the planet, either hiding from all sources or captured from the enemy. As impressive as Solares's records and skills look, being severely wounded and alone upon a planet with potentially two hostiles is going to push her to her limits. If my records are correct, which they always are, we are missing a few more members of Rogue Seven. Once they arrive, we will depart immediately for the ONI station and the Orion. If there are any questions, I will do my best to answer them before we depart."</s>	<\|message\|>Carly Renton Carly's trip was quiet and lonesome. The only noise coming from the beeping of her data pad, and the occasional rumble of the engines. There was a swish from the cockpit door, as the co-pilot walked in and saluted to her, without looking up Carly spoke; "Drop the formalities Marine It's been too long a trip, how far out are we?" The marine looked quite awkward as he dropped his stance to a more casual position."We're just coming in on the station, now, you've been directed to Dock AA3", the marine promptly walked out and left Carly to her mission reports. As the pelican touched down, she grabbed her satchel and jumped out the back. Leaving a few credits on her seat. She put on her helmet and made her way to the Docking bay. She knew she would already be late she had one heck of a journey. She made her way to the location given to her by the pilot, not after stopping to pick something up at the nearest mess hall She knew it was going to be a long journey, after all, it had to be important to ONI to bring back Rogue seven. After picking up a sandwich and throwing it in her satchel she ran to docking bay provided to her. Just as she was about to enter the ship she was interrupted by an AI, "Hello Sargeant Renton, I am Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant, you may refer to me as Nesalla Your squadmates are already on board the bridge." The AI spoke calmly with a sense of authority about it. "Thank you, How late am I?" The reply came swiftly; "You are currently ten minutes late, Strike Commander Andromedai is just finishing up, I suggest you hurry Sargeant" Carly dismissed the Ai and made her way quickly to the Bridge just as Nesalla had ended. "Sergeant Renton reporting in." She turned to Andromedai. "Apologies for the delay ma'am, Had a bit of a trip," She inspected those that had arrived, It had been sometime Since they had been together, She just hoped that the bonds they had formed had still stayed intact. Carly checked her Datapad and just as expected Nesalla had, luckily for Carly, already sent the details to her. Carly took off her helmet and examined the details, Trying to find as many possible scenarios as possible. "I have no questions, But if possible I would like Nessalla to Send me the latest basic medical forms for the strike team, recent injuries, and all that jazz, The standard procedure," As much as Carly wanted to sit down and catch up she knew she had a job to do first.</s>
<\|description\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) Age: Unknown (For the same reasons stated above.) Appearance: He's the guy in the red helmet wearing the gas mask who's currently charging at you with a rusty chainsaw while making sounds similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games. Rank: Super-General-Lieutenant-Captain-Sergeant-Commander Level 5 (He's killed so many people, we had to make up a new rank for him. We've lost count of how many he's killed, so don't ask.) Position: All of them. (But we strongly recommend that you politely decline receiving medical treatment from Crazy unless you're REALLY desperate. We also strongly recommend not eating anything he cooks when he's fulfilling his duties as a cook unless EXTREME desperation requires it.) Weapons: All of them as well.</s> <\|message\|>David Jones David jumped a bit when the Major flipped off the radio, starting to speak in protest, but deciding it better if he just answered her question. "None so far, Major. 200 frequencies, and all but three of them are static. You're welcome to listen in, but I doubt you'll find anything new." With that, he flipped the radio back on, tuned it to the third of the frequencies he'd found with a working broadcast, as that one seemed the most usable, and slid the headset off from under his helmet, handing it to Helena as he stood. Sliding the pack onto his back, he turned so that the controls faced the Major, waiting for a confirmation of what he'd found.</s> <\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) As David offered the controls to the Major, 2 soldiers ran past carrying Private Higgins on a stretcher as he convulsed uncontrollably. "His true form is beyond our comprehension!" the Private rambled "Wolf for head! Snake for legs! Anteater for arms! HIPPOPOTAMUS FOR TORSO! BELIEVE ME! BELIEVE MEEEEEEeeeee eeeee- ". Private Higgins was carried out of earshot before he could finish his long 'me'.</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) @DepressedSoviet Before the Major got down to messing with the controls on the radio, she watched the two soldiers with the stretcher zip by. Higgins, well...he was totally FUBAR. "Son of a bitch..." The Major muttered shaking her head. "Don't tell me they were serving those glowing rats again in the mess hall." She sighed fiddling with the dials, mostly getting nothing but static.</s> <\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) If the Major was to tune into the Yellow's radio channel now, she would judge that from the sounds of things, Crazy had run into them in his search for blood and violence and was now hacking them to pieces with his chainsaw and the occasional commandeered firearm. The radio operator's panicked voice that was most likely requesting backup was periodically interspersed with screaming and Crazy's hunter noises. Eventually, the radio operator began screaming too as he was attacked and murdered by Crazy, who also destroyed the Yellow radio in the process and left the Major with only 2 frequencies that weren't static.</s> <\|message\|>Changes his name sporadically and he HATES IT when he's not called by his name. Travis wandered the waste lands alone, a necklace of rat heads on his neck as he alternated between moving on all 4s and on 2 legs. A picture of a skull was drawn in his helmet, seemingly with dried blood. "I am the hunter.."-he muttered in a deep ragged voice as he moved surprisingly quickly on all 4s thinking himself to be one of those ancient hunting jungle tribes but, in reality he looked more like Gollum from Lord of the Rings. "I am the predator.."- he continued his monologue but was interrupted upon hearing noises coming from the other side of a tall ruined building. "And you will be my prey!"- as he was making to enter the building for a better vantage point, a voice came from behind him. "Hey there! Hey you, can you hear me?"- a fellow red called to him. As Steve turned back to see, knifes in hand ready for action, he spotted 2 fellow reds seemingly returning to their camp from a mission. "Oy mate, IT'S STEVE! STEVE IS ALIVE! WHAT DID I TELL YOU!? You owe me 2 weeks worth of lunch." "Yeah, yeah, whatever.." They knew his name? He just changed it to Steve 5 seco...of course they knew his name, how couldn't they? As they approached him, he quickly rose on 2 feet, threw the head necklace aside..and the teeth bracelet..and the tail belt, changing his voice into a more normal one. "Hey, how are you?"-he said to the 2 unknown reds who had mistaken him for their friend..which had confused him into thinking they were also his friends. "I was just about to ente.."-he started but was interrupted by one of the reds. "Same as us, we just came back from a mission, heading for home camp right now."- as he got closer he continued-"Say, is that blood on your forehead?" Shit, he forgot to wipe that out.-"The blood of a yellow."- quickly answered. "I don't think blood stains from a dying victim are supposed to take the shape of a skull"- the red later added while at the same time Steve was drawing out a knife. He couldn't let them learn of the deranged shit he did while away.. "The yellow, was a known artist." "See mate? Another proof that yellows are better than reds at everything. Even in death he was a better painter than any of us." "I don't think that's how it wo.." "Anyway let's hurry for encampment, can't wait to try my hard earned lunch"- and so, the 3 of them made way for the camp.</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) @DepressedSoviet This thing was a piece of junk, the Major thought trying to pick up anything. She groaned frustrated, turning the knobs here and there. Static was all she was getting at the moment, the occasional tidbit of radio chatter from the Yellows babbling in that incoherent language of theirs, but... Wait...what was this? Sheppard turned the knobs again. She had picked up on something that sounded like a battle in progress. She listened closely. That's when the chainsaw and that animalistic snarling caught her ear, along with the horrific dying screams of a Yellow getting his guts yanked out possibly. "Grrr! Someone get that damn brute back here ASAP!" The Major growlef slamming her fist down on the radio. She should've known Crazy was up to no good again. She threw down the headset, already switching over to her Lieutenant Major Bitchalot frequency as she began barking orders to the troops. @Bishop@ineffable "Alright maggots, listen up! Crazy's on the loose again, meaning we have to go get his ass!" "Do we have to?" A Red smarted off, getting him a bullet from...who else but the Major. Helena holstered her 1911 and resumed, despite the awkward silence that followed afterwards. "Hadrons, Greene, I want you two to tranq the son of a bitch from a faraway position. If you get too close, he's liable to shove that chainsaw up your assholes. The guy sleeps with it for Christ sake! Comm Officer David, I want you to keep scanning the chatter for Yellow frequencies! We need to pinpoint that dipshit's current location! And Steve, you....Where the fuck is Steve dammit?!"</s> <\|message\|>Kellie Hadrons @DriveEMOut Kellie listens to the commander's order uncomfortably. Her rifle is heavy in her hand and she places it down on the ground, resting it against her leg. She pushes her unruly black hair out of the vision of her gas mask and bites her lip under the mask. She looks at the guy, Greene and gives him a slight nod. She was probably only going to slow him down but after all if he got hurt she was still a medic. She gives an inaudible sigh and nods along with the commander's words. Too scared to interrupt when she asks where Travis is.</s> <\|message\|>Changes his name sporadically and he HATES IT when he's not called by his name. "Oh man, can't wait to tell everyone that Steve is back."- the energetic red said only to see that there was no Steve beside him, only his usual buddy. "Did you see Steve leave, I could swear to the rats that he was..OMG"-he suddenly interrupted his own speech-"IT WAS HIS GHOST! He just came back one last time to talk to us in order to find closure! Oh Steve.." "Who in their right mind, wait slash that, with a mind at all would come back just to talk to you?" "..."-suddenly he brought a fist upon his palm like just remembering something-"I just remembered, you still owe me lunch and GOD I'm hungry." "..." Steve on the other hand was hurriedly moving stealthily on all 4s. Going from tent to tent, staying out of sight as much as possible. Reason? Uhh... Anyway, as he was switching cover, he saw the duo that he just ditched some minutes ago. He had to hide, he couldn't be with them, if they found out what he had done... While all these thoughts raced on his mind, he was slowly crawling backward, unknowingly into the tent where the Lieutenant was currently at. Upon hearing his name get mentioned, he slowly turned his head to see that everyone was staring at him. Well it must've looked awkward seeing someone slowly crawl backwards into a tent. Quickly he got up, dusted himself off while replying:"Yes, yesss.. I'm Steve."</s> <\|message\|>David Jones "Yes, Major." David said, kneeling down to pick up his headset and slip it back under his helmet. Pressing the earpiece to his head, he continued to cycle through the frequencies, before finally finding one that the Yellows were using as a backup. Hearing frantic yelling, David recognized a voice repeating what he had memorized as sector names in the Yellows' language. Snapping his fingers and gesturing towards the group of Reds, he called out "Map! Someone get me a map, quick!" Someone rushed up to him and handed him a crumpled map. Unfolding it, David scanned over it before shooting a death glare at the man who gave it to him. "This is a map of KYRGYZSTAN you idiot! Where did you even get that?! Get me a map of the local area!" He balled the map up and threw it at the man's head, as someone handed him a more local map. Tracing a finger over the map, he shouted "I got it! They're at How Roger Three Three Four."</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) @DepressedSoviet@ineffable@DriveEMOut Upon seeing the idiot Steve wobble in on all fours, the Major slapped her palm to her face muttering to herself incoherently and angrily before resuming. But again she was cut off by the Comm Officer shouting that he had the location pinpointed. How Roger Three Three Four. "Well you heard the man! How Roger Three Three Four! Let's move out, Reds!" The Major was already ahead of them as she grabbed her Galil from the armory. Elsewhere, a bunch of Blues were gathered on the cliffside looking down over the vast, sandy valley. Two snipers stood watch while the rest were huddled around a makeshift campfire. "Ugh... I shouldn't have eaten those rats. Seven legs is too many." A Blue complained holding his stomach. The Blue beside him grumbled, "Quit your bitching. It was either that or starve. Besides, we lost all our rations when the Yellows attacked us at Point Bravo." "Yeah, the rations we stole from those dumbass Reds." A Blue added chuckling. The snipers continued scanning the valley down below. Suddenly, one of them shouted, "Yellows at our six! Twenty meters and closing!" "What?! Well shoot 'em, gunny!" "Umm..." The sniper stammered. "What?" The Blue peered over at the sniper looking closely. That's when he realized, "Uh...why are you holding a stick with a scope attached to it?" "Umm...because it shoots better...?" Said the sniper. The Blue folded his arms. "Ugh! Okay, fine! I lost my damn gun when we were climbing up here! Are you happy, asshole?!" "Hey, it looks like those Yellows are running away from something." Said the other sniper. "Looks like a Red with....is that a fucking chainsaw?!" "What?!" The lead Blue perked up. "Gimme that!" He yanked the rifle away and peered down the scope, dropping the gun in utter horror. "My god..... Gentlemen...it's been an honor fighting with you. It will be an even bigger honor when...guys? Guys?" As the leader turned around, the rest of the nlues were already hightailing it down the hill screaming in terror. "Oh god! OH GOD! NOT HIM! RUN!!!" "I want to live!! I WANT TO LIIIIIIVEEEE!!!" The leader blinked for a moment, then muttered, "....Shit..."</s>	<\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) Moments later, the Yellows hurtled past the lead Blue while yelling in a panicked manner in their language. Crazy wasn't far behind, as evidenced by the fact that he also ran past the lead Blue, who fortunately for him had the sense to know that trying to shoot Crazy in the back when he had completely ignored you was actually a much more slow and painful version of shooting yourself in the head. Crazy continued to follow the Yellows as they ran around a nearby building and started cheering moments later. Upon turning the corner, Crazy discovered that the Yellows were cheering because they had run into the backup the Yellows had called. This backup included 60 extra soldiers and a tank. Crazy proceeded to run into the building as the tank's turret began to aim at him. The tank fired upon the building and destroyed much of the 1st and 2nd floors. The Yellows began to cheer even more, but were silenced by Crazy jumping out of a 3rd floor window and colliding with the tank's machine gun operator, causing them both to fall into the tank. The sounds of the crew inside the tank being murdered by a rusty chainsaw could be heard for a moment before the screaming stopped and the tank's turret turned in the direction of the Yellows. The Yellows proceeded to scatter about the place as they attempted to escape the onslaught Crazy went on to unleash.</s>
<\|description\|>Jack Greene Age: 17 Appearance: Rank/Kill count: 45 Position: Sniper Weapons: A model 82A1</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) DAY 1 RED BASE CAMP FOXTROT 0800 hours Dirt...that's all she could see for miles and miles. Just dirt...and rubble. Lieutenant Major Helena Sheppard sat at the rickety wooden table beside her tent, field stripping and cleaning her 1911 before reassembling it with a sigh, somewhat muffled by the bulky respirator over her face. Eight months, four days, and twenty seven hours, that's how long her squad had been traveling through this god forsaken wasteland until they even made it to the base camp, and not to mention how long she had gone without any sleep. With the Yellows and the Blues giving them hell at every turn, it was difficult to get any shut eye, that and hearing her squadmates bitch and whine because one guy's gun was better or they didn't want to sleep...next to Crazy... Sheppard couldn't blame them for that though... With tired, bloodshot eyes, she looked through the smoky lenses of her respirator at the rotted wooden sign next to a couple of tents. Slapped dashed on it in white, chipping paint: -CAMP FOXTROT- Accident free for 12 days A gunshot suddenly rang out amidst the howling wind, followed by rancorous shouts of, "GOD DAMMIT! AHH MY FUCKING FOOT!! WHO THE FUCK DID....?! FRIENDLY FIRE, YOU GOD DAMN SON OF A BITCH!! OWWW!" The soldier standing post by the sign glanced over then scratched the "12" off the sign with a piece of chalk. Helena slammed her head against the table groaning. A seasoned veteran with a kill count to boot, a warrior who cut her teeth on the battlefield, and here she was..."babysitting." She groaned whacking her face against the table again and again. This was gonna be one hell of a day...</s> <\|message\|>Kellie Hadrons Kellie was kicking at the rubble, scattering clouds of dirt up into the air as she walked by the tents set up in Camp Foxtrot. Her M40 Rifle hung loosely in her hand, more for defense than attack. She had a bunch of first aid stuff packed away in the multiple pockets of her clothes and she was mentally taking storage of them when she came across someone banging her head against a table again and again. This seemed strange to Kellie and she walked a bit closer to the girl. "Hello...are you alright?" Her soft voice sounded out, she grips her rifle a bit more tighter and starts thinking all the possible things that could be wrong with this girl.</s> <\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) As the soldier who had been shot in the foot continued to yell about his predicament those who had gathered round to see what had just happened suddenly started staring at something behind the injured soldier. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ALL STARING AT?!" the injured soldier asked "CAN'T YOU SEE I NEED A MEDIC?!". "That's lucky then" 1 of the injured soldier's comrades said as they all began to back away fearfully "The medic is already here". "HE'S BEEN DRAWN BY THE SCENT OF BLOOD!" 1 of the other soldiers screamed as he began to run "EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!". With that said, all the uninjured soldiers scattered, leaving the injured soldier alone with the thing that was breathing heavily right behind him. 'Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy' the injured soldier thought over and over again as he slowly turned around. Super-General-Lieutenant-Captain-Sergeant-Commander Level 5 Crazy was standing before the injured soldier. He was holding a battered and bloody medical kit in his hands and had crudely chalked the medic symbol onto his helmet. Needless to say, the soldier was terrified. "You know what, I don't think I need medical attention after all" the soldier said as he limped backwards "No no, it's just a flesh wound is all. I'll just walk it of. Yes, that's all I need to do. No need to break out your kit for me, Super-General-Lieutenant-Captain-Sergeant-Commander Level 5". Crazy's simple reply was to advance on the soldier in a predatory manner and to begin breathing more heavily. In his haste to move back, the soldier tripped. "I don't need a medic, honest!" the soldier said as he dragged himself backwards in a desperate attempt at escaping Crazy's clutches. Crazy began breathing even more heavily as he reached into his medical kit and pulled out a rusty scalpel. "NO! STAY AWAY!" the soldier exclaimed "I DON'T NEED A MEDIC! I-I-IT'S J-JUST A FLESH WOUND! S-S-SOMEONE! A-ANYONE! HELP MEEEEEEEEE!".</s>	<\|message\|>Jack Greene Jack approached Crazy. "Back off, mate. I'll get a proper medic." He was the only one he knew of who wasn't utterly terrified of Crazy, and he often tried to rally the others, but it didn't work. "Why don't you check out the abandoned Yellow tank down the hill? I heard its functional, but only runs off Chainsaws." He doubted it would fool the insane soldier, but he was desperate to save the guy who had gotten shot in the foot.</s>
<\|description\|>David Jones Age: He's kinda lost track, 30 maybe? Appearance: On top of the usual helmet-gas mask combo, David has a radio headset with a microphone and earpiece, with a cord running to the large radio box on his back. EDIT: Made him to the best of my ability: Rank: Not very many kills, but he's the one with the radio, so he gives the orders from command, and people just kinda do them. He doesn't let anyone else use the radio for this reason. Position: Radio Operator Weapons: Semi-Automatic Rifle, a grenade or two, utility knife.</s> <\|message\|>Jack Greene Jack approached Crazy. "Back off, mate. I'll get a proper medic." He was the only one he knew of who wasn't utterly terrified of Crazy, and he often tried to rally the others, but it didn't work. "Why don't you check out the abandoned Yellow tank down the hill? I heard its functional, but only runs off Chainsaws." He doubted it would fool the insane soldier, but he was desperate to save the guy who had gotten shot in the foot.</s> <\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) "Back off, mate. I'll get a proper medic" Upon hearing this, Crazy turned to Jack and growled threateningly. "Why don't you check out the abandoned Yellow tank down the hill?" Jack added "I heard its functional, but only runs off Chainsaws". Upon hearing this, Crazy dropped his medkit, pulled a piece of chalk out of his pocket, rubbed the medic symbol off his helmet, replaced it with the tank driver symbol, and ran off down the hill in search of the tank with a rusty chainsaw in hand.</s> <\|message\|>David Jones David sat cross-legged on the dirt ground, his radio resting in his lap, one hand pressing the earpiece against his head, the other fiddling with the various dials and switches. When the gunshot rang out, David reflexively reached for his rifle, but after hearing the following shouts, he realized it was a false alarm, and turned the volume nob up on the radio, returning to searching the frequencies. It had been a while since the last batch of orders had come in, and David was fairly sure people were starting to catch on that what he was telling them to do HADN'T come from command. As he cycled through the frequencies, most of what he heard was static, but a few of the frequencies provided chatter. The first was some kind of repeat emergency broadcast that he was fairly certain was worthless by now. From there, he found one station broadcasting a series of messages in the Yellow's crazy language. On the last working station he checked, he found battle chatter, though he could not tell if it was from Reds or Blues. Sighing in frustration, he popped open the hatch of the cassette player he had jury-rigged to run off of the radio, and popped in an old song he found. Drumming his fingers on the top of the radio box along to the beat, he glanced around him, trying to stay somewhat aware.</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) @DriveEMOut@rush99999@DepressedSoviet "Hello...are you alright?" The LT looked up at the girly voice coming from the soldier in front of her, a more proper medic emblem on her helmet than that of...well...Crazy... As she glanced up, one of her lenses cracked, the table beside her crumbled to pieces. Helena merely sighed indifferent standing to her feet, "At ease, Corporal. I'm alright. There's been another...accident...over at the firing range. If you would, go patch that soldier up before he gets his leg chewed off by Crazy. I need to speak with our comm officer David." She could hear the frightened laments of the troops nearby, shaking her head with an irtitated sigh, even moreso when that wild beast came bounding past her with that...that fucking chainsaw. Why hadn't Private Higgins kept that berserker on a leash like he was supposed to? Helena made her way past the gun range and down the sandy slope, where sat David....what the hell was he doing? The LT just stood there behind the comm officer for a moment, annoyed by the second by that crappy 80s synth pop, not making her presence known until she reached down and flipped the radio off. "Any word from Command yet?" She said glaring down at him with an expectant pause. And they wonder why the Yellows are always better than them.</s> <\|message\|>David Jones David jumped a bit when the Major flipped off the radio, starting to speak in protest, but deciding it better if he just answered her question. "None so far, Major. 200 frequencies, and all but three of them are static. You're welcome to listen in, but I doubt you'll find anything new." With that, he flipped the radio back on, tuned it to the third of the frequencies he'd found with a working broadcast, as that one seemed the most usable, and slid the headset off from under his helmet, handing it to Helena as he stood. Sliding the pack onto his back, he turned so that the controls faced the Major, waiting for a confirmation of what he'd found.</s> <\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) As David offered the controls to the Major, 2 soldiers ran past carrying Private Higgins on a stretcher as he convulsed uncontrollably. "His true form is beyond our comprehension!" the Private rambled "Wolf for head! Snake for legs! Anteater for arms! HIPPOPOTAMUS FOR TORSO! BELIEVE ME! BELIEVE MEEEEEEeeeee eeeee- ". Private Higgins was carried out of earshot before he could finish his long 'me'.</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) @DepressedSoviet Before the Major got down to messing with the controls on the radio, she watched the two soldiers with the stretcher zip by. Higgins, well...he was totally FUBAR. "Son of a bitch..." The Major muttered shaking her head. "Don't tell me they were serving those glowing rats again in the mess hall." She sighed fiddling with the dials, mostly getting nothing but static.</s> <\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) If the Major was to tune into the Yellow's radio channel now, she would judge that from the sounds of things, Crazy had run into them in his search for blood and violence and was now hacking them to pieces with his chainsaw and the occasional commandeered firearm. The radio operator's panicked voice that was most likely requesting backup was periodically interspersed with screaming and Crazy's hunter noises. Eventually, the radio operator began screaming too as he was attacked and murdered by Crazy, who also destroyed the Yellow radio in the process and left the Major with only 2 frequencies that weren't static.</s> <\|message\|>Changes his name sporadically and he HATES IT when he's not called by his name. Travis wandered the waste lands alone, a necklace of rat heads on his neck as he alternated between moving on all 4s and on 2 legs. A picture of a skull was drawn in his helmet, seemingly with dried blood. "I am the hunter.."-he muttered in a deep ragged voice as he moved surprisingly quickly on all 4s thinking himself to be one of those ancient hunting jungle tribes but, in reality he looked more like Gollum from Lord of the Rings. "I am the predator.."- he continued his monologue but was interrupted upon hearing noises coming from the other side of a tall ruined building. "And you will be my prey!"- as he was making to enter the building for a better vantage point, a voice came from behind him. "Hey there! Hey you, can you hear me?"- a fellow red called to him. As Steve turned back to see, knifes in hand ready for action, he spotted 2 fellow reds seemingly returning to their camp from a mission. "Oy mate, IT'S STEVE! STEVE IS ALIVE! WHAT DID I TELL YOU!? You owe me 2 weeks worth of lunch." "Yeah, yeah, whatever.." They knew his name? He just changed it to Steve 5 seco...of course they knew his name, how couldn't they? As they approached him, he quickly rose on 2 feet, threw the head necklace aside..and the teeth bracelet..and the tail belt, changing his voice into a more normal one. "Hey, how are you?"-he said to the 2 unknown reds who had mistaken him for their friend..which had confused him into thinking they were also his friends. "I was just about to ente.."-he started but was interrupted by one of the reds. "Same as us, we just came back from a mission, heading for home camp right now."- as he got closer he continued-"Say, is that blood on your forehead?" Shit, he forgot to wipe that out.-"The blood of a yellow."- quickly answered. "I don't think blood stains from a dying victim are supposed to take the shape of a skull"- the red later added while at the same time Steve was drawing out a knife. He couldn't let them learn of the deranged shit he did while away.. "The yellow, was a known artist." "See mate? Another proof that yellows are better than reds at everything. Even in death he was a better painter than any of us." "I don't think that's how it wo.." "Anyway let's hurry for encampment, can't wait to try my hard earned lunch"- and so, the 3 of them made way for the camp.</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) @DepressedSoviet This thing was a piece of junk, the Major thought trying to pick up anything. She groaned frustrated, turning the knobs here and there. Static was all she was getting at the moment, the occasional tidbit of radio chatter from the Yellows babbling in that incoherent language of theirs, but... Wait...what was this? Sheppard turned the knobs again. She had picked up on something that sounded like a battle in progress. She listened closely. That's when the chainsaw and that animalistic snarling caught her ear, along with the horrific dying screams of a Yellow getting his guts yanked out possibly. "Grrr! Someone get that damn brute back here ASAP!" The Major growlef slamming her fist down on the radio. She should've known Crazy was up to no good again. She threw down the headset, already switching over to her Lieutenant Major Bitchalot frequency as she began barking orders to the troops. @Bishop@ineffable "Alright maggots, listen up! Crazy's on the loose again, meaning we have to go get his ass!" "Do we have to?" A Red smarted off, getting him a bullet from...who else but the Major. Helena holstered her 1911 and resumed, despite the awkward silence that followed afterwards. "Hadrons, Greene, I want you two to tranq the son of a bitch from a faraway position. If you get too close, he's liable to shove that chainsaw up your assholes. The guy sleeps with it for Christ sake! Comm Officer David, I want you to keep scanning the chatter for Yellow frequencies! We need to pinpoint that dipshit's current location! And Steve, you....Where the fuck is Steve dammit?!"</s> <\|message\|>Kellie Hadrons @DriveEMOut Kellie listens to the commander's order uncomfortably. Her rifle is heavy in her hand and she places it down on the ground, resting it against her leg. She pushes her unruly black hair out of the vision of her gas mask and bites her lip under the mask. She looks at the guy, Greene and gives him a slight nod. She was probably only going to slow him down but after all if he got hurt she was still a medic. She gives an inaudible sigh and nods along with the commander's words. Too scared to interrupt when she asks where Travis is.</s> <\|message\|>Changes his name sporadically and he HATES IT when he's not called by his name. "Oh man, can't wait to tell everyone that Steve is back."- the energetic red said only to see that there was no Steve beside him, only his usual buddy. "Did you see Steve leave, I could swear to the rats that he was..OMG"-he suddenly interrupted his own speech-"IT WAS HIS GHOST! He just came back one last time to talk to us in order to find closure! Oh Steve.." "Who in their right mind, wait slash that, with a mind at all would come back just to talk to you?" "..."-suddenly he brought a fist upon his palm like just remembering something-"I just remembered, you still owe me lunch and GOD I'm hungry." "..." Steve on the other hand was hurriedly moving stealthily on all 4s. Going from tent to tent, staying out of sight as much as possible. Reason? Uhh... Anyway, as he was switching cover, he saw the duo that he just ditched some minutes ago. He had to hide, he couldn't be with them, if they found out what he had done... While all these thoughts raced on his mind, he was slowly crawling backward, unknowingly into the tent where the Lieutenant was currently at. Upon hearing his name get mentioned, he slowly turned his head to see that everyone was staring at him. Well it must've looked awkward seeing someone slowly crawl backwards into a tent. Quickly he got up, dusted himself off while replying:"Yes, yesss.. I'm Steve."</s>	<\|message\|>David Jones "Yes, Major." David said, kneeling down to pick up his headset and slip it back under his helmet. Pressing the earpiece to his head, he continued to cycle through the frequencies, before finally finding one that the Yellows were using as a backup. Hearing frantic yelling, David recognized a voice repeating what he had memorized as sector names in the Yellows' language. Snapping his fingers and gesturing towards the group of Reds, he called out "Map! Someone get me a map, quick!" Someone rushed up to him and handed him a crumpled map. Unfolding it, David scanned over it before shooting a death glare at the man who gave it to him. "This is a map of KYRGYZSTAN you idiot! Where did you even get that?! Get me a map of the local area!" He balled the map up and threw it at the man's head, as someone handed him a more local map. Tracing a finger over the map, he shouted "I got it! They're at How Roger Three Three Four."</s>
<\|description\|>Shiba The Second Wave Gender: Male Appearance: Shiba has a cross shaped scar over where his heart should be even though he was not mortally wounded in this life it appeared as a birth mark. With his overall appearance being typical of a regular goblin with green skin and his eyes were bright green like emeralds. Personality: Shiba is a smart goblin that often looks into the why instead of the how. He is always pondering why something is the way it is instead of how it works in the first palace he would be considered a ponder and an explorer in some way. Shiba is always trying to learn and understand things and he is a kind person happy to have others by his side and he is fiercely loyal to those he calls family. He does not seek to be a leader nor would he want it he simply seeks to learn of the world. Past Life History: Shiba was once a poet in his past life and he was a world renowned poet to match he had always gone around the world seeing new sights and finding the way to express his feelings in the most profound way as to make others weep in joy or sadness from whatever sight he saw be it a warzone or a hidden waterfall. Sadly it was his world seeking job that brought him to death because on his way to his newest destination his hotel was taken hostage by terrorists and because he was a well known artist he was the first to go when they didn't bring any money for his release. Birth Skill: The Rare ability that Shiba has is called Serenity unlike most beings in this life Shiba can easily calm his mind and the minds of others which if used in combat can keep animals from outright attacking him. Acquired skill: Sooth: Shiba has learned how to read people and animals and can calm their angry hearts though this is detrimental in terms of hunting it can nonetheless keep him from getting killed. Possession: Magic Theory book Other: Seems redundant but still I am a Mighty Goblin Following this goblin their are 4 brave souls that survived= * Yan-Took * Tsuku * Kalista * Idus</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Day 4: A Matter of Bones, settled Grasping tightly Fist Fang against his knuckles, Zectoll's mind was flooded with information. Deadly strikes, agile maneuvers, and impenetrable defense stances came rushing into his consciousness like a raging river. It was a sensation like no other he had experienced. The knowledge was filling him to fast, it was more than his mind could hold onto. It was if his mind was coming up with ideas rapidly, only to forget them moments later.He tried desperately to absorb the flowing torrent of techniques, but soon the flow faded, and he was left with but a small portion of instruction. What had caused this, Zectoll could not tell. Perhaps it was due to some natural knack he had in regards to unarmed combat, or perhaps it was some type of otherworldly phenomenon. Either way, Zectoll was excited to be making progress. Satisfied with his training session, Zectoll gathered up the remaining wolf bones, and his spear and headed over to where Kishi was residing. Kishi was conversing with two other goblins, unfamiliar to Zectoll. Zectoll peered at the peculiarly bright colored goblin, and the female goblin standing with him. It seemed that they had settled whatever it was the three were talking about. Zectoll brought the wolf bones and the spear over to the section of cavern wall that Kishi was standing at. Here are the wolf bones. I have taken what I need, you can have the rest Zectoll placed the bones down neatly, into a pile. The shorter goblin looked at the spear Kishi had given him. It was a good weapon, it's reach allowing a goblin to have an advantage over the physical prowess of the beasts of the forest. For a moment Zectoll doubted himself, thinking that he should hold onto the spear, and its long reach. He quickly put such thoughts out of his mind. The loss of reach would force him to become stronger and faster to compensate, or die trying.Also, here is your spear. I will no longer be needing it. I will be relying on this alpha horn, and my fist fangs from now on. @Duthguy [@Luz]</s> <\|message\|>Luz Luz @Jangel13@Duthguy@El Noche As soon as Luz heard that she made an audible sigh. Today she was planning on actually hunting animals but it seems fate had other plans for her. She sat down on the ground bored wondering what she was going to do today. She saw Zectoll make his fang fist out of bone and fur strips, then she took note of her stabbing stick was was basically a stick with it end shaped by a rock, it decided it that her stick was better than nothing but there was still better to be gained. She so when to that tool making goblin for advice. Steg seem to know him so maybe he would help her out. Luz then when to the group. "Excuse me...can you guys give me tips on how to make one of those..spears." She asked them nicely.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs Stegs --- While he was impressed with Kishi's ideas Stegs felt he missed an obvious one. Couldn't they also be used to improve armor? I know the petals aren't very strong but I doubt most animals would like getting hurt by the barbs when attacking." When Kishi mentioned needing proper adhesive Stegs couldn't help but silently agree with him. He was just about to ask if the other goblin wanted to help collecting the petals since he believed the flower was too large for two goblins to carry, when Kishi mentioned his own plans. He honestly was a bit disappointed but he understood the attraction of personal projects and was just about to look for other helpers when Luz approached the two of them. Apparently she wanted to know how to make spears. Since Stegs was curious himself he decided to stick around in case Kishi was gonna explain the progress. @demonspade64@Duoya</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Before Kishi had begun to carve into the wall, Stegs had announced his own idea for the use of the petals in his possession. While the idea of adhering them to armor was unique and seemed productive, Kishi spotted some problems with the idea that would put it's effectiveness lower than it's cost. "That's a good idea, Brother Stegs, but I doubt it would be as easy as you make it out to be. To start with, you would need some type of armor in the first place, and leather is harder to obtain then it appears. Additionally, you would need a large number of the petals for them to be of any use, and placing them on the armor would be time consuming and quite tedious. Also, a beast that attacks with claws and horns would be less effected from armor than they would by simply bashing into their sides with a buckler. Finally, as seems to be a problem with a majority of the creations I have in mind, we would need large amounts of adhesive to hold the petals to the armor." Kishi took a large breath after finishing his long-winded rant, before turning back to his schematics. He had begun to make decent progress, before his mind was returned to the wolf skin that was in his corner. The topic of armor had made him realize that it was easily possible to turn the skin into a type of leather armor... If it wasn't raining. Kishi silently cursed the gods, before having another epiphany: The gods were clearly real, if Grandfather's speeches and Lomen's murmured prayers were anything to go off of... But that would mean they were perfectly fine with watching the goblins struggle to survive and die. They did nothing to prevent Isurta's and Xaal's deaths... This grim line of thought was broken with the arrival of Zectoll, bearing a strange new weapon. It was kind of Zectoll to gift Kishi with the bones, but Kishi grew slightly worried for his brother. Would a weapon with such small reach really assist in combat? Kishi would have felt much less anxious for his brother if he chose to keep the spear... But Kishi took the spear back anyways. Their was no point in worrying for Zectoll. After all, it would only be a futile effort, and Kishi needed to retain as much energy as he could if he planned to build a pit trap the next day. After all, a semi-stable source of food was the most important part of keeping the goblins safe and happy. "Thank you Brother Zectoll, I hope my weapon has served you well. I am glad to see that you have created your own weapons! Maybe you'll take after me? Ha Ha Ha! But... Why did you name the weapon? It isn't really my place to ask, but a weapon is a tool, not something that is deserving of a name." After asking his question, Kishi once again returned to his planning, voicing out the rest of his concerns as he continued to sketch out his plans. Now, he was stuck with a very obsolete weapon... and almost on cue, the voice of a goblin known as Lux spoke to Kishi. His reputation was far larger than he had anticipated... Kishi spoke out, responding to the young goblin. "My spears are very basic, and are far from my proudest work. To be completely honest, their current design is a mess... If only I had an adhesive... Oh, but if you want one, I have one that has been recently returned." As he began to hand Zectoll's spear to the young goblin, a thought echoed throughout Kishi's mind, and he yelled to the rest of the cave's inhabitants. "If anyone needs anything made, come to goblin Kishi!" Satisfied with this, Kishi continued his sketching, having just finished a basic outline of the moat and it's structure and moving onto a map of the cavern's insides. Being sure to mark specific landmarks (Such as "Kishi's Korner", "Grandpa's Grove", and the "Goblin Graveyard"), Kishi continued to mark out the all of the cavern's insides that he had explored, before moving onto the basic areas he had explored outside of the cave. All the while, Kishi planned how to tan the wolf's hide, creating a leather for Kishi to use however he saw fit. @demonspade64@El Noche@Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - Noche --- The pouring rain outside made Skubli hesitant to go near the entrance to the cave, however he ventured out to it anyways to avoid speaking with his brethren. The water was stark and cold, splashing on the little goblin's feet as he approached the entrance of the cave. Thunder clapped and spooked him into a cowering position, however once Skubli realized there was no immediate danger, he scurried forwards a little bit to examine the falling water. Further investigation led to the discovery that the mantle Skubli wore was waterproof, repelling the liquid with great ease. Content with his discovery, Skubli hobbled back inside the cave, grunting quietly at the few goblins he passed as he made his way towards the back of the cave. Skubli had only been to the back end of the cave when he was a newborn or when he had been collapsing from exhaustion; exploring it had not been something he had done yet, and with no other alternatives, now was the perfect time. Darkness nearly encompassed the entirety of the cave's back end, however Skubli's keen eyes provided vision in the shadows. For the most part, it led to narrow dead ends and closed walls, leaving the goblin dissatisfied. Just before Skubli gave up, a small crevice led to a closed off, hidden alcove large enough to make a comfortable space for a goblin as small as Skubli. Thrilled by the new discovery, Skubli sniffed out the new space, ensuring it was completely safe before pulling a few items of food he had horded, a small, sharp rock acquired from his day out, and one of the fish scales from the luminescent fish. The runt quickly stored away the valuables and crawled into the alcove to continue to explore.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba 4 Winds The old man smiled at Kishi as he then asked about the creatures outside and if they were more dangerous then the common breed considering that he has met an alpha before. "Young one it would take time this old man doesn't have to tell you about all the creatures outside this cave. Though I will say this much the farther you are from the cave the more dangerous beasts you will end up finding out their. Their many beasts that can kill you without any effort. I will tell you about one being though back when I was younger I did come across a dangerous black skeleton it was walking and had armor as black as its bone as if it was burnt. Lucky for us that being lives only graveyards" he said with a shrug thinking that was something to give the young one at least. --- @Duoya@Duthguy -summary- The goblins that were together were soon talking about what would be created in the future the goblin Kishi took his role as the cave crafter in a brighter light taking the title affectionately. The goblin Kishi was quickly making ideas to better shore up the caves defenses with his plans he would soon be able to create a much better defensible cave. The goblins Luz and Stegs were getting equipment and ideas on how to best use the flower petals that they found the day before. --- Noche -summary- The goblin known as Zectoll was soon giving away his spear to goblin Kishi now less dependent on a spear he had crafted a pair of fist fangs as he called them. He was also given basic knowledge into bare knuckle fighting techniques and was now looking for something to do. --- The exploring goblin- As the previously incapacitated Skubli came back to his sense he went out and looked at the rain making sure to learn that it was not harming him. He then went to the back of the cave and started digging. He soon found his own special place just for himself and he stored what little valuables he had in the alcove then he continued to dig. As he kept digging he soon landed himself in front of another small clearing however this time at the far wall of the clearing was a strange rock formation it was skewed in different directions but what was most interesting was the color of the rocks in the formation it looked a dark grey color and was much to strong for the goblin to even attempt to chip at it with a sharpened rock. What the goblin didn't know was that he found something truly incredible.....the goblin found steel... Goblin Skubli learned Excavation the goblin has learned how to dig in rock caves and as such can now find the weak points in rocks allowing him to dig with greater ease.</s>	<\|message\|>Shiba God damn Server error! Ignore this</s>
<\|description\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] Gender: Male Appearance: Standing at the standard goblin height of 4'2", Xaal doesn't look much different than others of his race. Short stature, dark-green skin, and shrewd, sharp eyes of the crimson variety. His physique is lean and sinewy, seemingly made for speed and agility rather than brute force. A scar, red and angry, crosses over his heart like an 'X' - a memento that has been with him since birth. Personality: Unlike the stereotypes surrounding his kind, Xaal is neither dull nor stupid. Rather, he was born with a cunning and quick-witted mind. Even since birth, he has shown to be easily-adaptable to many situations, be they tense or mundane. This efficiency, combined with his cunning, alienates him from some of his Goblin brethren, as he doesn't see the world in the same way as them. Although he could come off as distant or cold because of this fact, Xaal isn't inherently 'bad' or 'antagonistic'. Rather, he takes problems as they come, and deals with them accordingly - acting mercifully or ruthlessly depending on the situation at hand. His cool, blunt, and straightforward nature makes him a good leader in the eyes of some, and he doesn't hide or run away from problems or issues. Despite this, he has kindness and generosity in his body, and can act honorably when he wants to. Xaal has an innate sense of adventure, and he is naturally quite inquisitive, which explains why he adventures out to hunt more than most goblins in his 'family'. Past Life History: Xaal, or Jason, as he was in a past life, was something of a...'Hitman', or 'Mercenary'. After an accident in his past that ended with his family shunning him, Jason got caught up in a...less than stellar lifestyle. Money became the only thing he honestly cared about, to fill the void in his otherwise empty life. Contracts, be it on innocents or criminals, became the norm, and he never really got over his past. Not every story has a happy ending. His happened to end with a knife to the throat. Skill: Xaal has a sharp mind, and even sharper reflexes. Other: I am a mighty goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - --- Vanishing umbrage. The crimson shadows pulsated around the small consciousness, warping and surrounding the primal mind before receding back to a safe distance. The deep red veil continuously wove themselves around the tiny mind before them, overpowering any thought that attempted to enter the mind they tormented. An archaic chorus of dark, powerful voices permeated the shadows as the small creature slowly blended into the oblivion. This was the way it will be. This is the way it was. This is the way it is. Crimson shades and deep crescendos carried on for eternity. A shudder traversed the darkness as the deep echoes became piercing screams. The shadows swelled and burst with an insurmountable amount of chaos as a single voice penetrated the oblivion. "Come little ones. Time to wake." It could hear. The miniscule consciousness shuddered as the elder voice pierced the crimson veil of shade. The ancient consciousness was not undying, such as the shadows were, but was instead ancient. It had aged throughout time and spoke with the weight of the experiences it had endured. The tiny consciousness followed the voice into the darkness, slowly drifting behind the ancient one. The voice had given the creature a clarity of existence. Goblin. "...goob?" As a second voice spoke, the creature became aware of the cold stone beneath its back, of the sharp claws it possessed as they dug into its skin. It could feel. A vile taste entered the goblin's mind as his mouth processed the putrid combination of saliva and dust. Ever so slowly, the consciousness began to emerge. He could taste. "...gobble." With the arrival of the third voice came the dull, musty scent of the cave the small goblin presided in. He was unsure of how he knew this concept, but it was certainly present within his mind. He could smell. As the presence of the others' physical bodies came into his senses, the tiny creature gained his final sense of sight. He could see. With all five senses complete, he was now a sentient being. Skubli was.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs Even though he was now floating in the darkness he could remember light, a strange pain in his chest and the word gardener, nothing else though not even what gardener meant. While the darkness seemingly took the pain away it was boring and he wished he could leave it behind. An eternity or maybe ten seconds later, he had no definition of time, he realized his body was laying on something hard and cold. "...goob?" It was a strange sound but he somehow knew it came from some other being that was pretty close to him even though he could not see it. "...gobble." Another one of these strange sounds, he became curious as to where they came from. "Gum". A third sound, by now he had become determined to see where the sounds came from. As soon as the word "see" popped up in his mind he instinctively opened his eyes. At first he was blinded by the light but slowly his eyes adapted. Eventually he saw several small green skinned creatures which he immediately identified as Goblins, but what was he, a "gardener", doing in a group of Goblins? No that wasn't right he was a Goblin too, all of a sudden he was sure of that as sure as he was that he liked the color green. Wondering if he was green as well he checked his body out. Not only was he green but a very nice light green, other than that he looked pretty much the same as the other Goblins who he now realized were the source of the sounds. Maybe if he could make "Gardener" into a sound he would know what it meant. "Grdnor." Well that was a total failure, it not only didn't make him remember anything, it didn't even sound like what he was trying to say. Wait, that was it the sounds were words that the other Goblins "said".</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Hunger. A burning, all-encompassing hunger consumed him. Darkness surrounded him, rendering his senses useless. Where was he? Who was he? It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is getting rid of this hunger. It consumed every atom of his being, greedily trying to sate itself. But slowly, it began to be replaced by the cold and numb blanket of darkness. This isn't so bad... he thought to himself. Every part of his being faded away into nothing, abandoning his physical shell. But then, a light destroyed the comforting dark. And the hunger returned. ... He opened his eyes to see a massive creature, easily 5 times his height. His mind raced, looking for a way to esape this monolithic monstrosity, before he suddenly calmed, his mind being eased by the creature's appearance. Wrinkles covered nearly every inch of skin, very little of which was covered by a small strip of cloth that circled the creature's waist. A large beard of white hair also alluded to this creature's age. As he observed the creature, a word came to the forefront of his mind. Goblin A strange word. A foreign, alien one. One you wouldn't want to be in the same room with. But it also felt... right. It fit like a glove in his mind, latching on like a parasite. He attempted to move his body to rid himself of the word. Green A small slab of meat, light green and weak, was held out in front of him. Arm... This is my arm... The old goblin smiled down at him. "Come little ones. Time to wake." Somehow... He could understand the old goblin's words. He had never heard these strange mutterings... He didn't even know what that strange flesh hole was called- Mouth Once again, his mind echoed back a wordfor the old goblin. The elderly goblin dropped a small object next to him. Soon, darkness surrounded him, blinding him... But it didn't deaf him. Words, far more garbled than the old goblin's, filled the dark space. As these words reached his ears, his see places-eyes began to adjust. The words were coming from several small green beings. He look at the object that the old goblin gave him. A small, blue rock, perfectly featureless and round sat beside him. This time, the word that his mind supplied slipped out of his mouth and into the dark cave. "Mwine..." His mind turned in mechanical rhythm, generating countless words as he looked all around.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba The Goblin Grandpa watched as each of the children started to wake up and some even went on trying to speak when they just woke. He had to admit he has been around to see a few generations and he had to admit that he knew this batch of younglings had some real potential. The Grandpa had done it regularly always waking the young ones a day after they are born. He knew that Humans could grow up much slower because they didn't have to worry about war but goblins like them were born weak and were easy to kill and as a result he knew that they wouldn't take long to grow up till they were strong enough to walk and talk properly. Grandpa stroked his beard and soon he spent the next 3 days feeding them as they quickly grew up. On their first day they were able to crawl and sit up properly. Grandpa had some food in their storage so that he could feed them and make sure they didn't starve because he was by no means strong enough to hunt anymore at best he was a care giver to the young ones and could give them advice as they grow up. On their second day they were able to walk for short distances and were finally able to speak a few words with clarity. This was when Grandpa taught told them about what was waiting for them once they were strong enough to stand on their own because he couldn't feed those that didn't hunt he gave each one their names and he told them that they were to just call him grandpa. He fed them each once more but was able to just give them bowls and let them go to town. --- The third and final day was when they were finally ready to strike out on their own. Grandpa waited by the cave for each of them to wake up on their own and once they all got up and came over to the entrance of the cave grandpa then said "Alright little ones, you have finally gotten big enough to hunt on your own. From here on out no more hand outs you live and die by your own choices. If you want some advice though that's free, their are some horned rabbits not far from the cave be careful" Those were the last words Goblin Grandpa told them before he sat down by the entrance of the cave watching them. He had to admit that the entrance of the cave was like the entrance to their adulthood for them to be treated with respected. Of course it was understandable if they were scared but they weren't going to get any food from him anymore they needed to learn how to hunt and he couldn't show them how. It was survival of the fittest in this world and if they cant hunt for their own food then they didn't deserve to be a part of their tribe...</s>	<\|message\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] X a a l --- Over the past few days, hundreds of thoughts had flown through his brain. The main thought process, however, centered around one thing - Goblins grew at a very fast pace. In mere days, his mind had grown from that of a toddler's into what it was now - a centerpiece of willpower, focus, and planning. Within the first day of his birthing, he had spent the majority of his time observing. Eating, observing, and thinking. The first few hours were tough, as he could not even say 'Goblin' without a lisp or a major butchering. But, as hours waned, and darkness bloomed, and he ate, thoughts began to surface - some hypothetical, some practical, and some rhetorical. Who was he, exactly? Why did he feel so...out of place amongst the other green-skinned baby goblins? Why was he so damn hungry all the time? Another instinctive word...'damn'. It was around this time, where he awoke on the second day, that he realized something. He could actually stand up and move. His first foray into 'walking' was a bit...shaky. He had watched the Old Goblin waddle around, hunched over and leaning on a wooden club, but that didn't feel right. So, he had straightened his back, and began to move at a faster pace, a fair distance away from the viciously eating group of Goblin kids he had been born alongside. Sadly, walking took a lot of energy, and within minutes he had collapsed on his butt, a scowl marring his lips once he realized that he reached his walking limit for the moment. It was around this time, that the Old Goblin began speaking in his worn voice. The Old Goblin told them that soon, they would have to hunt on their own, and kill for their own food. The Old Goblin told them of the monsters and dangers that laid outside of the cave, and how they would have to fight to survive - nothing was given. They had to rely on themselves, and their own grit. It was that minute, as he sat there grasping his legs, that the young Goblin decided that he would do better than survive. He would survive, and thrive. Let the dangers come...he'd take them all on. The newly dubbed 'Grandpa' gave them each their names, and the young goblin felt a smile - or was it a smirk? - form on his face. He was Xaal, and he'd show 'em all. And now, at this moment in time, he was about to go out on his own Hunt. The young Goblin had grown since the second day, now standing at a respectable height of 4'2". His eyes, a shockingly vivid crimson, were sharp and shrewd, even as he calmly looked around the forest ahead of them. A long shard of rock, scraped endlessly against the cave's wall to end in a durable and sharp point, was gripped in his right fist, sending a rush of confidence into Xaal's dark green body. He was ready - and, he was rather hungry. He gave a quick glance over his Goblin brethren, all of them the same age as he...three days. Xaal hadn't spoken to any of 'em, other than a few words. Too preoccupied with eating and thinking, he guessed. But now...maybe they should stick together for the hunt? Screw it. "Thanks, Grandpa." He hadn't spoken much since his birth, so his voice was rather rough as he took a step out of the cave, and into the blinding sunlight. Xaal would be the first to cross that barrier. Without a look back, he made his way into the underbrush. If any of his brethren wanted to come with him, they were free to do so. He really just wanted to get some food at this point, and Horned Rabbits sounded very delicious at this point in time.</s>
<\|description\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] Gender: Male Appearance: Standing at the standard goblin height of 4'2", Xaal doesn't look much different than others of his race. Short stature, dark-green skin, and shrewd, sharp eyes of the crimson variety. His physique is lean and sinewy, seemingly made for speed and agility rather than brute force. A scar, red and angry, crosses over his heart like an 'X' - a memento that has been with him since birth. Personality: Unlike the stereotypes surrounding his kind, Xaal is neither dull nor stupid. Rather, he was born with a cunning and quick-witted mind. Even since birth, he has shown to be easily-adaptable to many situations, be they tense or mundane. This efficiency, combined with his cunning, alienates him from some of his Goblin brethren, as he doesn't see the world in the same way as them. Although he could come off as distant or cold because of this fact, Xaal isn't inherently 'bad' or 'antagonistic'. Rather, he takes problems as they come, and deals with them accordingly - acting mercifully or ruthlessly depending on the situation at hand. His cool, blunt, and straightforward nature makes him a good leader in the eyes of some, and he doesn't hide or run away from problems or issues. Despite this, he has kindness and generosity in his body, and can act honorably when he wants to. Xaal has an innate sense of adventure, and he is naturally quite inquisitive, which explains why he adventures out to hunt more than most goblins in his 'family'. Past Life History: Xaal, or Jason, as he was in a past life, was something of a...'Hitman', or 'Mercenary'. After an accident in his past that ended with his family shunning him, Jason got caught up in a...less than stellar lifestyle. Money became the only thing he honestly cared about, to fill the void in his otherwise empty life. Contracts, be it on innocents or criminals, became the norm, and he never really got over his past. Not every story has a happy ending. His happened to end with a knife to the throat. Skill: Xaal has a sharp mind, and even sharper reflexes. Other: I am a mighty goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs While the other Goblins mastered walking and talking he spent most of his free time trying to figure out what a gardener was. He instinctively made sure not to fall too much behind the others when it came to walking and talking, but his near constant quietness and stillness would no doubt give the illusion he was lazy. It was only at the end of the second day that he could walk more than five steps without hugging the cave wall. Stegs as he was recently named did talk to some of the others a bit, though that was more to imitate what words they could say than it was to get to know them. There was plenty of time for that after all. Mere seconds after he was finally able to say gardener, which when spoken out loud briefly made him envision things called plants and strange tools, Grandpa told them that the next day they had to provide for themselves. The young Goblin spent the rest of the day near the entrance of the cave imagining all the different plants he would see and then grow in the cave for food and to make it look nicer, until he eventually fell asleep. The next morning when he woke up he nearly ran outside, until he remembered about the dangers Grandpa had warned him about. so he waited and watched other goblins go first. Including a trio that brought weapons along. After some deliberation he decided to follow them and maybe team up, but he tripped on something as he headed towards the entrance. On closer inspection the "something" turned out to be another Goblin, one he had never seen before. "Sorry about that." Suddenly he got an idea a Goblin that was that good at not being seen might be a real help. "Wanna hunt together?"</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Ink Thank goodness! Kishi silently thanked the universe for being allowed to join the two other goblins. As he hands a spear to Sister Isurta, he realized just how crude and cumbersome it would be to use. The shaft was sharp and splintered and the head was haphazardly attached with a basic knot. Despite this, it had more range over fists, and even if it has horrible durability, the most expensive thing used to make it was time. He hands one of the three spears he made, hoping she wouldn't comment on the shoddy construction. "Thanks for the weapon Kish!" Sister Isurta seems thankful, at least. Kishi awkwardly hands the weqpon to her, not used to the spear's length and grip. He heard Brother Lothar make a remark about scouting the area first, and while Kishi would normally agree... He was not about to argue with the hunger. Kishi pretends to ignore Lothar as he walks out of the cave. Gripping his weapon tightly, he stumbles into the bright sunlight. The three of them traveled a few steps when Brother Xaal quickly fell to the ground. Kishi rushed to help him up, but he soon noticed that it was a crouch instead. When Sister Isurta did the same, Kishi attempted to copy the movement, falling silently on his behind. In a clearing barely out of view from the cave's mouth, a small furry creature with a massive horn protruding from it's skull was resting. Kishi licked his lips, not only for the anticipated meal, but also of the possibilities he saw with the horn. Kishi lightly poked the spear on the ground to test it's integrity and listened to the others. Brother Xall wanted a direct assault, while Sister Isurta wanted a distraction to assassinate the rabbit. Kishi was astonished with Brother Xaal's bravery. Never in his short life would he have thought about jumping in to his possible death so quickly. Sister Isurta, meanwhile, surprised him by demonstrating tactics and planning he wouldn't think of for days. Kishi, having never been hunting before, didn't have any idea which tactic should be employed, but he did see a compromise. "Brother Xaal and I could charge the beast when ready, leaving an opening for Sister Isurta to attack." Kishi was terrified of the rabbit, however... The promise of meat and the horn persuaded him into gambling his life with the rabbit. Kishi gripped his crude spear in anticipation.</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - --- A surprising force collided with Skubli's side, causing a small, panicked noise to escape his throat before he instinctively curled into a small ball, trying to disappear underneath his mantle. After a few seconds of silence, a voice apologized to Skubli. "Wanna hunt together?" The smaller goblin looked up at the figure standing over him. He was a typical Goblish creature, standing at average height and weight, however the one thing that drew Skubli's attention was his skin. The bright green hue of the newcomer's skin was remarkably distracting. Pausing for a moment, Skubli considered his options. The bigger goblin's skin drew attention away from Skubli, so that could be a possible way to avoid danger. Additionally, he was the first Goblin to speak to Skubli, and he was offering exactly what Skubli needed. [color=aba000]"Hunting with you good." Skubli croaked. /color] The lackluster grammar of Skubli's speech didn't go unnoticed by the tiny goblin, but he was proud he had managed a semi-complete sentence on his first try.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba Grandpa soon watched as the others were left behind. The two that were left were the odd ones of the group and he knew that those two could have a hard time surviving but that was because the scrawny one which he named Skubli was by no doubt the runt in the litter as their was always one after all. He had to wait for him to come out of his corner as he was fed enough to last so that he could go back into the corner and hide away. No question that he was sneaky but Grandpa also knew that sneaky wasn't the same as smart or strong. The other one though which he named Stegs was something of a mystery to Grandpa as he seemed to be lazy at first but he could sense it was a ploy. What he couldn't figure out is if he was a leader or a follower or if he had the brains to survive out in the world. He couldn't interfere though he couldn't coddle the young ones or they will never thrive. He laughed a bit when Stegs actually tripped over Skubli and soon he was left inside the cave waiting till nightfall when the young ones would soon return after all it gets much more dangerous at night out their. --- @Duthguy -on the hunt- As the two would set out together in a different direction from the trio before they would soon come across a horned rabbit drinking in a nearby stream where fish were sure to live... --- @Rune_Alchemist@Wasted Ink As they got hidden within the brush the rabbit poked its head up as it heard the rustling of leaves. It ran its paw over its long ear as if trying to see if it was just hearing things. When he saw no movement it hopped a few inches away to another brush and started eating the berries on it. The small clearing they found themselves in was perfect for hiding around the rabbit to ambush it however if they made any noise above the whisper the Rabbit will take it as a threat and either attack head on and skewer them or run off as quick as possible making them loose their first target. It was up to how they approached the rabbit that will determine a successful hunt...</s>	<\|message\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] X a a l --- "If one of you distract it for me, I could leap on it from behind." It wasn't a bad idea, and was rather similar to what he already had in mind. She was the fastest of the three, no doubt, and she had something a bit better than her fists to hunt with. The plan could work...but, once again, selfish thoughts fleeted through his mind. The horn, and the meat. The rabbit was too small for them to share three-way, and he knew that Isurta wasn't stupid - she'd want the horn, as well. It was sharp and a decent length. Something in the back of his mind told him that it was better than the pig-sticker he currently gripped in his hands. Maybe he should have went off on his own...then, he wouldn't be having these thoughts. "Brother Xaal and I could charge the beast when ready, leaving an opening for Sister Isurta to attack." He snapped out of his reveries, taking in the details of Kishi's words. That was the plan, then. Xaal was pleased that he managed to stay quiet, leaving the two to come up with the plan on their own. He could have said what was on his mind immediately, of course, but that would have made him the psuedo-leader of their little trio. Xaal wasn't so sure that he wanted that responsibility. That same little voice at the back of his head told him that family dying because of his actions wouldn't feel too good. He had never experienced grief before, and he had no intentions of doing so on his third day of being. The rabbit then chose the moment to move, it's long ears twitching as it moved towards a nearby bush of berries. A smirk pulled on Xaal's lips - the plan would work, considering the rabbit chose to show it's back to the bush. It was now directly across from their place in the clearing. If they managed to send it scurrying towards the bush, where Isurta was waiting, then maybe...if she was fast enough, she could run out and take it by surprise, although she would have to be mindful of the horn. His plan solidified, Xaal finally turned his eyes towards his siblings, his voice barely a whisper. "Isurta, stay hidden, but be fast. We will go around and lead it towards you, and you be ready to strike. It won't expect you here. Kishi, make sure it runs towards Isurta's bush. No...fear." His voice, nearly silent, and still rough from disuse, cracked a bit at the end, but Xaal ignored the soreness for now, giving Brother Kishi a nod. They'd put the plan into action now. His footsteps were quiet, Xaal hyper-aware of any sticks or leaves underneath his feet as he carefully moved around the rabbit, towards it's front. Kishi was big, for a goblin, and Xaal wasn't too bad himself. They could do this. With a subconscious twitch of his fingers, Xaal tore out of the bushes, eyes sharp and fierce as he leaped through the berries and towards the horned rabbit. The horn was even sharper up-close, but from the subconscious knowledge of prey, he knew that they ran first, and attacked later. Crimson eyes watched the horn religiously, even as Xaal made a lunge towards the rabbit, stabbing swiftly towards the soft flesh of the rabbit's neck. It would either have to die here, or make a swift 360 and run in the opposite direction. He would leave it no choice. If it attacked, then he would dodge. His reflexes and instincts were very sharp, if not sensitive. Kishi would, hopefully, be nearby, ready to make scary movements and corral the rabbit towards Isurta's waiting spot.</s>
<\|description\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] Gender: Male Appearance: Standing at the standard goblin height of 4'2", Xaal doesn't look much different than others of his race. Short stature, dark-green skin, and shrewd, sharp eyes of the crimson variety. His physique is lean and sinewy, seemingly made for speed and agility rather than brute force. A scar, red and angry, crosses over his heart like an 'X' - a memento that has been with him since birth. Personality: Unlike the stereotypes surrounding his kind, Xaal is neither dull nor stupid. Rather, he was born with a cunning and quick-witted mind. Even since birth, he has shown to be easily-adaptable to many situations, be they tense or mundane. This efficiency, combined with his cunning, alienates him from some of his Goblin brethren, as he doesn't see the world in the same way as them. Although he could come off as distant or cold because of this fact, Xaal isn't inherently 'bad' or 'antagonistic'. Rather, he takes problems as they come, and deals with them accordingly - acting mercifully or ruthlessly depending on the situation at hand. His cool, blunt, and straightforward nature makes him a good leader in the eyes of some, and he doesn't hide or run away from problems or issues. Despite this, he has kindness and generosity in his body, and can act honorably when he wants to. Xaal has an innate sense of adventure, and he is naturally quite inquisitive, which explains why he adventures out to hunt more than most goblins in his 'family'. Past Life History: Xaal, or Jason, as he was in a past life, was something of a...'Hitman', or 'Mercenary'. After an accident in his past that ended with his family shunning him, Jason got caught up in a...less than stellar lifestyle. Money became the only thing he honestly cared about, to fill the void in his otherwise empty life. Contracts, be it on innocents or criminals, became the norm, and he never really got over his past. Not every story has a happy ending. His happened to end with a knife to the throat. Skill: Xaal has a sharp mind, and even sharper reflexes. Other: I am a mighty goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba @Duthguy@December -on the hunt: The final blow- The Rabbit was to distracted trying to kill the goblin that was already wounded by its horn. It thought it would be able to kill a wounded goblin then get away free unfortunately it didn't notice the other goblin with it until it was to late. It soon felt the claws of the goblin dig into its leg effectively crippling its ability to run away. It didn't want to die yet as it made one last leap getting past the goblin but sadly its luck was no good as it came up to a third and final goblin. It couldn't run anymore and couldn't defend itself as it was bleeding profusely from its torn tendon. The goblin then bashed his head and the Rabbit laid their slain ready to be picked apart by the 3 goblins. The goblins Lothar, Stegs, Skubli each gain 3XP</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - @Heyitsjiwon --- Skubli scurried backwards away from the Horned Rabbit as the beast fell to the final blow. The newcomer among them hadn't been noticed by the little goblin and had taken Skubli greatly by surprise. Holding his bloody claw away from his body, Skubli warily eyed the goblin who had landed the killing strike. The Rabbit lay dead on the ground, ready to be harvested, but despite Skubli's hunger, he pulled away from it and towards Stegs, seeking comfort in the familiar goblin. After a moment, he noticed the blood pouring out of Stegs' arm and remembered the wound he had suffered. "Stegs bleeding. That's not good. You okay?" His language was still broken, but the runt managed to convey his question with little room for misunderstanding. As he slowly peered over Stegs' arm, Skulbi kept an eye out for the new goblin to see if he would examine Stegs or simply begin reaping his rewards.</s> <\|message\|>Isurta ~Isurta~ Ink --- It was a shallow strike, but it was enough to permanently injure the rabbit. As the rabbit fell dead, A large grin formed on Isurta's face. Had they...done it? Excitement filled the young goblin as the rabbit remained limp on the ground. That had been easier than she thought it'd be. The danger had been very real, but with the use of her head, obviously she came out on top. Oh and of course Xaal and Kish as well. They were a big help, of course. "Hahah!" She giggled loudly, eyes sparkling with obvious excitement, jumping into the air and giving a little fist pump. "We did it!" The only question now was how to split the spoils. There was only one horn, and the meat would possibly be enough for both of them...but she promised Gramps she'd bring back a lot, so she didn't exactly feel inclined to stop hunting now. "So what do you guys wanna do now? I say we hunt two more - one for all of us. If we keep up like this we should easily be able to do it. Maybe find a better way of fighting them, too." It'd also solve the problem of splitting the horn and spoils with the three of them, that way no one would be left without one. And if they could hunt more tomorrow, they might be able to bring back even more for their brothers and sisters. Plus, they should eventually start learning to hunt on their own as well...but for now, a group would do just fine.</s> <\|message\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] X a a l --- Isurta had been faster than he'd expected. When the rabbit had charged towards her hiding spot with a ferocity that surprised even him, Xaal felt a fleeting sense of helplessness. It wasn't fear, or panic - simply the feeling of knowing that it wasn't him being attacked, so he wouldn't be the one dealing with the consequences and danger. He hated not being able to do anything. But, with a surprising amount of agility and quick-thinking, the female Goblin had dodged to the side, and used the spear to dig a nice hole in the rabbit's side, probably hitting some vital organ. When the rabbit died, Xaal felt just a bit stronger. A small grin formed on his lips, showing rather sharp canines. "Nice stab." He stated, walking forward and crouching down to inspect the rabbit more closely. The horn was just as sharp-looking as he expected, with a length that he inwardly knew to be perfect for hunting smaller prey. This, of course, wouldn't be their last rabbit. They needed to eat, to gather their strength, before hunting for more horns and meat. He wouldn't be selfish and take this one all for himself, after all. "So what do you guys wanna do now? I saw we hunt two more - one for all of us. If we keep up like this we should easily be able to do it. Maybe find a better way of fighting them, too." Good thinking. Decision decided, Xaal reached down, breaking the long, sharp Rabbit Horn at the base, so that the length wouldn't be butchered. "Isurta, you killed it, so you take the first horn." Xaal spoke up bluntly, turning fierce crimson eyes towards the slightly shorter female. He stood, offering the horn to her, sharp-end first. He and Kishi would get theirs soon, after all.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs @Jangel13@Heyitsjiwon --- the third goblin while not maybe vital to their succes did prove helpful in killing the Rabbit. Unfortunately for Stegs that meant feeling the pain of his injury. "Stegs bleeding. That's not good. You okay?" He honestly had no idea if he was okay, he had no experience with injuries or aside from a memory pain. All he could tell was that it hurt a lot. He could only think of one thing to do about his injury and that was ask Grandpa for help, but would the older Goblin help him for free? If not he might have to offer up some of the meat and even between the three of them there was already only a little to eat. Wondering what to do he looked at the stream which was filled with moving creatures. Fish, was what those creatures were called. With that knowledge came an idea, maybe they could catch some to go with the rabbit meat and to offer to Grandpa in exchange for his help with Stegs' injury. "Don't know. Help me catch fish for Grandpa, maybe he'll help me then." he said sounding a lot calmer than he felt.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba @Wasted Ink@Duoya -after the hunt- As they separated the spoils the sharp horn of the rabbit was given to the goblin who made the final blow. Isurta Gained= Small Animal horn Each Goblin then gained the skill Escape As a result each of the goblins learned how to run away from a stronger enemy easier. This skill wasn't going to be helpful in actual combat when standing ones ground. As they soon finished their were three different paths that they could go. They could decide to go towards the darker area of the woods which would hold even stronger animals to hunt which were sure to give them greater skills and food to eat but was dangerous for new goblins to traverse. The second path was filled with more clearing and bushes which were sure to hold more horned rabbits for them to find. The final path was back where they came while they would be heading home early their was no question it would hold more berries and fruits for them to gather should they decide to avoid hunting all together.</s> <\|message\|>Isurta ~Isurta~ Ink --- "Wah? Really?" Isurta said, eyes sparkling as she observed the sharp horn. She was quite surprised, since had intended to let them have it but she wasn't going to say no since she was offered. Not saying anything, Isurta instead elected to give Xaal something a little more affectionate seeming in the way of thanks. Avoiding the sharp end of the horn, she wrapped Xaal in a light, quick hug giggling happily as she was offered the horn. It lasted only a brief seconds before she pulled away, swiping the horn from him as she started inspecting it. "Hmm! Light, incredibly sharp and looks pretty nice!" She held it at eye level, seeming to drink in every visual detail she could before running her hands over it and getting a good feel for the horn. With a confident smirk, she gave the horn a few experimental thrusts and swings, testing how good it would be for each motion. "Hmhm, seems like it'd be good...hey hey, Brother Kish! Think you could make a better spear out of this? How'd you make these anyways?" She was getting a bit sidetracked of course. Xaal apparently agreed that they should at least hunt two more, but she did want to know how Kishi made these spears to begin with. Maybe she could attempt to make one herself? She doubted it'd be as good as Kishi's handiwork, but she wanted to know regardless. Who knows, maybe one day such information might come in handy?</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Ink Kishi observed the exchange between the two goblins silently, eying up the corpse of the rabbit with an analytical glare. The fur could be used for gloves or clothes, while also capable of turning to leather for armor and containers... The teeth may prove as a basic alarm system if enough were gathered... His thoughts were interrupted by Sister Isurtas questioning. "...hey hey, Brother Kish! Think you could make a better spear out of this? How'd you make these anyways?" Kishi began to shift uncomfortably. These guys would never believe that a voice in his head gave him all these ideas... Probably. Kishi reached for the horn and examined it carefully. It was very large in his hands, and seemed to weigh almost nothing. Without even feeling it, Kishi knew it could easily eviscerate any of them if it hit the right place. Kishi responded with a half-truth. "With something like this, I could definitely make it sharper... The problem is durability. The horn may last a while, but I use cloth to keep it on the shaft. Knots don't really last long if you are jamming them with all your strength into some animal. If I had a better adhesive, they'd be perfect..." "I guess I just have a knack for this kind of stuff. I tied some sharp stones I found onto some sticks using those extra loincloths Grandpa leaves all over the place. It's... hard to explain without showing it." Kishi stared into the dark forest, a light chill crawling down his spine. He kneeled down and retied the head to his spear as he conversed with the group. "Alright, so we look for more right? I hope we don't have to go too far from the cave... Kishi stood up giving them the same stare he gave the rabbit. Sister Isurta was lightning quick, and was able to strike down the rabbit as it charged her. Brother Xaal, meanwhile, was much nicer than he appeared, and was by no means weak. Kishi stood up and lightly tapped the butt of his spear on the ground a few times. "Where do you guys want to go next?" Kishi slung Isurta's rabbit corpse over his shoulder and watched his surroundings. The rabbit was killed in a less than humane way, and blood painted the grass red. Other animals probably smell the blood... Hopefully the rabbits aren't scared... And the wolves aren't hungry... The hunger has died down temporarily.</s>	<\|message\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] X a a l --- Xaal stood stock still, eyes narrowed as he watched Isurta approach him - much too close for comfort. Subtly, he gripped the dagger from where he had relaxed it in his right hand, ready to defend himself if his fellow Goblin decided to attack him for whatever reason. He almost stabbed her when her arms briefly wrapped around his form, but something at the back of his mind told him to stay his hand, and he was rather glad that he did. It was merely a -hug-, his brain helpfully informed him, causing Xaal to release the iron-like grip on his weapon. Yeah, a hug. Not a sneak attack... He shook his head - ignoring the annoying heat in his ears, before surveying the surrounding area, going over their options as Isurta and Kishi began talking about the customly-created spear that the tall goblin had made. They'd already decided to keep hunting the rabbits, so the darker path was obviously out. His gut told him that things more dangerous than horned rabbits lurked in the shadows there, and Xaal was definitely not interested in testing his rock dagger on something like a bear. No, the best thing they could do, was to continue on their current grassy path in the forest, and be on the lookout for more rabbits. With Isurta's agility and cunning, Kishi's craftsmanship and strength, and his own determination and guile, Xaal was sure that they would be fine. "Where do you guys want to go next?" Convenient timing. "We will keep going-" Xaal's crimson eyes turned skywards for a second, before going back to Kishi and Isurta, "-northwards. It seems like the safest route for rabbits." He took one last look around the bloody clearing, before turning back to the path and walking forward.</s>
<\|description\|>Skubli Gender: Male Appearance: Skubli is remarkably small, even among goblin folk. Standing at a pathetic 3 foot 5 inches, Skubli is smaller than most goblins you'll meet. He possesses a hunched posture and and sleek shape. Skubli's skin is a shadowy green shade, contrasted sharply by his piercing yellow eyes. His lack of hair persists throughout his entire body, even across his scalp. The small goblin wears the typical dark loincloth, however he differs in the fact that he wears a small mantle of black cloth over his shoulders. Physically, this goblish creature is rather fragile. His hands possess sharp nails and flexible fingers. His nose hooks downwards over his mouth, giving him a sleek form. Personality: Skubli is not a particularly warm creature. While his loyalty is undying, his trust is a hard thing to come by. Skulbi won't cause you trouble if you leave him alone, however the little guy can be surprisingly spiteful if you cross him; however, due to his size, Skubli tends to ere on the side of timidity and not anger the big fish in the pond. He finds his anchor in familiarity, such as the black mantle he wears. The surrounding grasp of the cloth brings him comfort. If the goblin can lend you a hand without causing himself too much trouble, he'll usually do it, however Skubli will always try to get something out of it. While he is known to think for himself, Skubli is not a cruel creature. He despises senseless pain, however he has learned that it is simply a fact of life. Past Life History: Skubli's human life had everything that he needed to survive, but not much more. He grew up in the slums of Detroit. He kept his head down and did his best to avoid trouble. His parents weren't the best, however they were always there for him. His mother was a bit of a drunk and his father had an issue with anger, but they raised him as best they could. He never had any siblings to look out for him, so he grew up learning how to take a hit and how to stay out of serious trouble. Skubli always knew that unsuspected acts of violence always happened, but he had become so accustomed to being able to avoid trouble that he never considered he could be a victim. One wrong look at the wrong guy ended up with him living his last few minutes in the corner of an ally, slashed up and bleeding out his last pint of blood. Skill: Skubli's small form, sharp claws for climbing, and dark skin/mantle let him be pretty sneaky. Nothing too astounding, but it takes a pretty sharp goblin to catch him. Other: The mantle he wears is basically his comfort blanket. It keeps him warm and hides him from other people. Without it, he loses a lot of his vitality. Additionally, he's so small that he will probably never be the mightiest goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Isurta ~Isurta~ Ink --- As she was just about to get to hunting with brother Xaal, brother Kishi decided to join them carrying some very interesting...tools with them. Spears it looked like. Was that what they were called? Whatever, they looked like very effective stabby weapons. Perhaps a bit awkward to use without a bit of training, but with a bit of practice using one well would be easy enough, and what better way to get a feel for something than by using it in a practical scenario? This would be a good test run, yep. "W-wait! Let me come with you guys! I... I can help you! I have weapons, and we can watch each others backs!... Sorry if I'm coming on strong, I'm just really hungry... You guys have any leftover grubs you don't want?" "Hehe, of course you can join use Brother Kish." She giggled. "We can share the spoils among ourselves!" She wasn't too concerned with Brother Lothar's assessment that they needed to immediately scout the area. Certainly it would be a good idea to get to know the land immediately around them, but on an empty stomach? No, you were just asking to get in trouble. First food, then scouting and discovery. Knowledge was power, but knowledge was useless if you were to weak to properly use it. "Thanks for the weapon Kish!" She replied, taking one of the spears for herself. She ran her hand along the haft of the crude weapon, admiring its crude craftsmanship, trying to take in every detail she could and already imagining all the applications and ways she might be able to maneuver the weapon in order to use it effectively. Even a crude weapon as this could be deadly if used right...but her body was small and weak. She would need to fix that as soon as she could. Before she could think much more though, Brother Xaal quieted himself and the reason why became readily apparent. What could only be a horned rabbit was standing before them not too far into the underbrush. Isurta's eyes sparkled as she saw the horn adorning the rabbits head. It was certainly something that would be useful. She wanted it. It would make for a nice stabby weapon. She wouldn't be the only one who would want it though. Chances were, Xaal wanted it as well...hm. Well, she'd be satisfied with only the food for now if someone beat her to it. She'd hunt her own later when she was off exploring. "Hmhm..." She hummed quietly to herself, crouching next to Xaal, resting the butt of her spear on the ground as she observed the rabbit. She wasn't particularly strategically inclined, but she knew attacking head on at the moment would be pure folly. The spears had range over the rabbit, but their skill at using them was something that left much to be desired. "How are we gonna do it?" She asked after he asked if they were ready, muscles in her legs tensing. She was ready to pounce at a moments notice, and likely would faster than Xaal as well. She was confident in her agility for the moment. "I don't think I'd be fast enough to get it on my own." She hummed, tilting her head curiously to the side as she observed the rabbit, attempting to study it the best she could from a distance. "If one of you distract it for me, I could leap on it from behind."</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - --- The first few days of existence were challenging. Skubli was by far the smallest Goblin in the cave, as it was called, and while all the over Goblish folk grew in strength and capabilities, Skubli was left small and neglected. Some Goblins practiced walking; others scoured the cave for materials. A few of Skubli's brethren even fashioned weapons for them selves, but the small goblin merely cowered in the corner and observed them. During the first day, Skubli had managed to crawl away from the hoard of ugly green bodies to the deepest corner of the cave. Once there, a small tattered black mantle was discovered. The runt had donned the cloth and hid under it, blocking out of the the strange new world with familiar shadows. A couple of exploring goblins had approached Skubli as he huddled in the corner, however they had either not noticed his presence or deemed him unnoteworthy and moved on. It wasn't until the second day that Skubli was forced from his hideaway by an unavoidable enemy: Hunger. When the tiny goblin could no longer withstand the gouging fangs of the longing for food, he was forced to succumb to his desires and search for sustainance. The Grandfather Goblin had smiled warmly upon Skubli as his tiny, tormented frame had slowly dragged itself, drained of vitality, into the center of the cave. Skubli's nearby siblings gave him a glance or two, however none of them cared enough to approach him. Grandpa gently pushed forward a hunk of a strange substance Skubli hoped was edible towards the quivering frame underneath the black mantle. A small, clawed hand had reached out and drug the food underneath the mantle before noisily devouring the morsel with great delight. Grandpa and Skubli continued this routine two or three more times before the tiny goblin's hunger pains were sated and he returned to his corner, dragging along a small piece of food with him. After the third day when Grandpa announced that he would no longer be proving them food, Skubli forced himself from his corner. Without the source of food in the center of the room, Skubli would soon starve unless he found another form of sustanance. The small creature hadn't spoken another word to the creatures in the cave. He had formed no friendships or allies of any kind. He was weak and without a weapon aside from his wicked claws. Skubli crawled to the entrance of the cave as a trio of colorful-eyed goblins rushed off into the woods, hunting for food. Crouching near the cave's mouth, Skubli looked over his shoulder at the indistinct, shuffling forms of this brethren. Skubli opened his mouth to speak to the nearest Goblin, however his voice failed him and all that emerged was a small, quivering wail. Skubli immediately shrank back from the other Goblins and cast his gaze back out into the world of light. There were so many potentials, and that scared him. He had no one to defend him or fight for him, and he was too small to do it for himself. Skubli faced the fear that he might die before he ever left the cave.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs While the other Goblins mastered walking and talking he spent most of his free time trying to figure out what a gardener was. He instinctively made sure not to fall too much behind the others when it came to walking and talking, but his near constant quietness and stillness would no doubt give the illusion he was lazy. It was only at the end of the second day that he could walk more than five steps without hugging the cave wall. Stegs as he was recently named did talk to some of the others a bit, though that was more to imitate what words they could say than it was to get to know them. There was plenty of time for that after all. Mere seconds after he was finally able to say gardener, which when spoken out loud briefly made him envision things called plants and strange tools, Grandpa told them that the next day they had to provide for themselves. The young Goblin spent the rest of the day near the entrance of the cave imagining all the different plants he would see and then grow in the cave for food and to make it look nicer, until he eventually fell asleep. The next morning when he woke up he nearly ran outside, until he remembered about the dangers Grandpa had warned him about. so he waited and watched other goblins go first. Including a trio that brought weapons along. After some deliberation he decided to follow them and maybe team up, but he tripped on something as he headed towards the entrance. On closer inspection the "something" turned out to be another Goblin, one he had never seen before. "Sorry about that." Suddenly he got an idea a Goblin that was that good at not being seen might be a real help. "Wanna hunt together?"</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Ink Thank goodness! Kishi silently thanked the universe for being allowed to join the two other goblins. As he hands a spear to Sister Isurta, he realized just how crude and cumbersome it would be to use. The shaft was sharp and splintered and the head was haphazardly attached with a basic knot. Despite this, it had more range over fists, and even if it has horrible durability, the most expensive thing used to make it was time. He hands one of the three spears he made, hoping she wouldn't comment on the shoddy construction. "Thanks for the weapon Kish!" Sister Isurta seems thankful, at least. Kishi awkwardly hands the weqpon to her, not used to the spear's length and grip. He heard Brother Lothar make a remark about scouting the area first, and while Kishi would normally agree... He was not about to argue with the hunger. Kishi pretends to ignore Lothar as he walks out of the cave. Gripping his weapon tightly, he stumbles into the bright sunlight. The three of them traveled a few steps when Brother Xaal quickly fell to the ground. Kishi rushed to help him up, but he soon noticed that it was a crouch instead. When Sister Isurta did the same, Kishi attempted to copy the movement, falling silently on his behind. In a clearing barely out of view from the cave's mouth, a small furry creature with a massive horn protruding from it's skull was resting. Kishi licked his lips, not only for the anticipated meal, but also of the possibilities he saw with the horn. Kishi lightly poked the spear on the ground to test it's integrity and listened to the others. Brother Xall wanted a direct assault, while Sister Isurta wanted a distraction to assassinate the rabbit. Kishi was astonished with Brother Xaal's bravery. Never in his short life would he have thought about jumping in to his possible death so quickly. Sister Isurta, meanwhile, surprised him by demonstrating tactics and planning he wouldn't think of for days. Kishi, having never been hunting before, didn't have any idea which tactic should be employed, but he did see a compromise. "Brother Xaal and I could charge the beast when ready, leaving an opening for Sister Isurta to attack." Kishi was terrified of the rabbit, however... The promise of meat and the horn persuaded him into gambling his life with the rabbit. Kishi gripped his crude spear in anticipation.</s>	<\|message\|>Skubli A surprising force collided with Skubli's side, causing a small, panicked noise to escape his throat before he instinctively curled into a small ball, trying to disappear underneath his mantle. After a few seconds of silence, a voice apologized to Skubli. "Wanna hunt together?" The smaller goblin looked up at the figure standing over him. He was a typical Goblish creature, standing at average height and weight, however the one thing that drew Skubli's attention was his skin. The bright green hue of the newcomer's skin was remarkably distracting. Pausing for a moment, Skubli considered his options. The bigger goblin's skin drew attention away from Skubli, so that could be a possible way to avoid danger. Additionally, he was the first Goblin to speak to Skubli, and he was offering exactly what Skubli needed. [color=aba000]"Hunting with you good." Skubli croaked. /color] The lackluster grammar of Skubli's speech didn't go unnoticed by the tiny goblin, but he was proud he had managed a semi-complete sentence on his first try.</s>
<\|description\|>Skubli Gender: Male Appearance: Skubli is remarkably small, even among goblin folk. Standing at a pathetic 3 foot 5 inches, Skubli is smaller than most goblins you'll meet. He possesses a hunched posture and and sleek shape. Skubli's skin is a shadowy green shade, contrasted sharply by his piercing yellow eyes. His lack of hair persists throughout his entire body, even across his scalp. The small goblin wears the typical dark loincloth, however he differs in the fact that he wears a small mantle of black cloth over his shoulders. Physically, this goblish creature is rather fragile. His hands possess sharp nails and flexible fingers. His nose hooks downwards over his mouth, giving him a sleek form. Personality: Skubli is not a particularly warm creature. While his loyalty is undying, his trust is a hard thing to come by. Skulbi won't cause you trouble if you leave him alone, however the little guy can be surprisingly spiteful if you cross him; however, due to his size, Skubli tends to ere on the side of timidity and not anger the big fish in the pond. He finds his anchor in familiarity, such as the black mantle he wears. The surrounding grasp of the cloth brings him comfort. If the goblin can lend you a hand without causing himself too much trouble, he'll usually do it, however Skubli will always try to get something out of it. While he is known to think for himself, Skubli is not a cruel creature. He despises senseless pain, however he has learned that it is simply a fact of life. Past Life History: Skubli's human life had everything that he needed to survive, but not much more. He grew up in the slums of Detroit. He kept his head down and did his best to avoid trouble. His parents weren't the best, however they were always there for him. His mother was a bit of a drunk and his father had an issue with anger, but they raised him as best they could. He never had any siblings to look out for him, so he grew up learning how to take a hit and how to stay out of serious trouble. Skubli always knew that unsuspected acts of violence always happened, but he had become so accustomed to being able to avoid trouble that he never considered he could be a victim. One wrong look at the wrong guy ended up with him living his last few minutes in the corner of an ally, slashed up and bleeding out his last pint of blood. Skill: Skubli's small form, sharp claws for climbing, and dark skin/mantle let him be pretty sneaky. Nothing too astounding, but it takes a pretty sharp goblin to catch him. Other: The mantle he wears is basically his comfort blanket. It keeps him warm and hides him from other people. Without it, he loses a lot of his vitality. Additionally, he's so small that he will probably never be the mightiest goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Ink Thank goodness! Kishi silently thanked the universe for being allowed to join the two other goblins. As he hands a spear to Sister Isurta, he realized just how crude and cumbersome it would be to use. The shaft was sharp and splintered and the head was haphazardly attached with a basic knot. Despite this, it had more range over fists, and even if it has horrible durability, the most expensive thing used to make it was time. He hands one of the three spears he made, hoping she wouldn't comment on the shoddy construction. "Thanks for the weapon Kish!" Sister Isurta seems thankful, at least. Kishi awkwardly hands the weqpon to her, not used to the spear's length and grip. He heard Brother Lothar make a remark about scouting the area first, and while Kishi would normally agree... He was not about to argue with the hunger. Kishi pretends to ignore Lothar as he walks out of the cave. Gripping his weapon tightly, he stumbles into the bright sunlight. The three of them traveled a few steps when Brother Xaal quickly fell to the ground. Kishi rushed to help him up, but he soon noticed that it was a crouch instead. When Sister Isurta did the same, Kishi attempted to copy the movement, falling silently on his behind. In a clearing barely out of view from the cave's mouth, a small furry creature with a massive horn protruding from it's skull was resting. Kishi licked his lips, not only for the anticipated meal, but also of the possibilities he saw with the horn. Kishi lightly poked the spear on the ground to test it's integrity and listened to the others. Brother Xall wanted a direct assault, while Sister Isurta wanted a distraction to assassinate the rabbit. Kishi was astonished with Brother Xaal's bravery. Never in his short life would he have thought about jumping in to his possible death so quickly. Sister Isurta, meanwhile, surprised him by demonstrating tactics and planning he wouldn't think of for days. Kishi, having never been hunting before, didn't have any idea which tactic should be employed, but he did see a compromise. "Brother Xaal and I could charge the beast when ready, leaving an opening for Sister Isurta to attack." Kishi was terrified of the rabbit, however... The promise of meat and the horn persuaded him into gambling his life with the rabbit. Kishi gripped his crude spear in anticipation.</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - --- A surprising force collided with Skubli's side, causing a small, panicked noise to escape his throat before he instinctively curled into a small ball, trying to disappear underneath his mantle. After a few seconds of silence, a voice apologized to Skubli. "Wanna hunt together?" The smaller goblin looked up at the figure standing over him. He was a typical Goblish creature, standing at average height and weight, however the one thing that drew Skubli's attention was his skin. The bright green hue of the newcomer's skin was remarkably distracting. Pausing for a moment, Skubli considered his options. The bigger goblin's skin drew attention away from Skubli, so that could be a possible way to avoid danger. Additionally, he was the first Goblin to speak to Skubli, and he was offering exactly what Skubli needed. [color=aba000]"Hunting with you good." Skubli croaked. /color] The lackluster grammar of Skubli's speech didn't go unnoticed by the tiny goblin, but he was proud he had managed a semi-complete sentence on his first try.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba Grandpa soon watched as the others were left behind. The two that were left were the odd ones of the group and he knew that those two could have a hard time surviving but that was because the scrawny one which he named Skubli was by no doubt the runt in the litter as their was always one after all. He had to wait for him to come out of his corner as he was fed enough to last so that he could go back into the corner and hide away. No question that he was sneaky but Grandpa also knew that sneaky wasn't the same as smart or strong. The other one though which he named Stegs was something of a mystery to Grandpa as he seemed to be lazy at first but he could sense it was a ploy. What he couldn't figure out is if he was a leader or a follower or if he had the brains to survive out in the world. He couldn't interfere though he couldn't coddle the young ones or they will never thrive. He laughed a bit when Stegs actually tripped over Skubli and soon he was left inside the cave waiting till nightfall when the young ones would soon return after all it gets much more dangerous at night out their. --- @Duthguy -on the hunt- As the two would set out together in a different direction from the trio before they would soon come across a horned rabbit drinking in a nearby stream where fish were sure to live... --- @Rune_Alchemist@Wasted Ink As they got hidden within the brush the rabbit poked its head up as it heard the rustling of leaves. It ran its paw over its long ear as if trying to see if it was just hearing things. When he saw no movement it hopped a few inches away to another brush and started eating the berries on it. The small clearing they found themselves in was perfect for hiding around the rabbit to ambush it however if they made any noise above the whisper the Rabbit will take it as a threat and either attack head on and skewer them or run off as quick as possible making them loose their first target. It was up to how they approached the rabbit that will determine a successful hunt...</s> <\|message\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] X a a l --- "If one of you distract it for me, I could leap on it from behind." It wasn't a bad idea, and was rather similar to what he already had in mind. She was the fastest of the three, no doubt, and she had something a bit better than her fists to hunt with. The plan could work...but, once again, selfish thoughts fleeted through his mind. The horn, and the meat. The rabbit was too small for them to share three-way, and he knew that Isurta wasn't stupid - she'd want the horn, as well. It was sharp and a decent length. Something in the back of his mind told him that it was better than the pig-sticker he currently gripped in his hands. Maybe he should have went off on his own...then, he wouldn't be having these thoughts. "Brother Xaal and I could charge the beast when ready, leaving an opening for Sister Isurta to attack." He snapped out of his reveries, taking in the details of Kishi's words. That was the plan, then. Xaal was pleased that he managed to stay quiet, leaving the two to come up with the plan on their own. He could have said what was on his mind immediately, of course, but that would have made him the psuedo-leader of their little trio. Xaal wasn't so sure that he wanted that responsibility. That same little voice at the back of his head told him that family dying because of his actions wouldn't feel too good. He had never experienced grief before, and he had no intentions of doing so on his third day of being. The rabbit then chose the moment to move, it's long ears twitching as it moved towards a nearby bush of berries. A smirk pulled on Xaal's lips - the plan would work, considering the rabbit chose to show it's back to the bush. It was now directly across from their place in the clearing. If they managed to send it scurrying towards the bush, where Isurta was waiting, then maybe...if she was fast enough, she could run out and take it by surprise, although she would have to be mindful of the horn. His plan solidified, Xaal finally turned his eyes towards his siblings, his voice barely a whisper. "Isurta, stay hidden, but be fast. We will go around and lead it towards you, and you be ready to strike. It won't expect you here. Kishi, make sure it runs towards Isurta's bush. No...fear." His voice, nearly silent, and still rough from disuse, cracked a bit at the end, but Xaal ignored the soreness for now, giving Brother Kishi a nod. They'd put the plan into action now. His footsteps were quiet, Xaal hyper-aware of any sticks or leaves underneath his feet as he carefully moved around the rabbit, towards it's front. Kishi was big, for a goblin, and Xaal wasn't too bad himself. They could do this. With a subconscious twitch of his fingers, Xaal tore out of the bushes, eyes sharp and fierce as he leaped through the berries and towards the horned rabbit. The horn was even sharper up-close, but from the subconscious knowledge of prey, he knew that they ran first, and attacked later. Crimson eyes watched the horn religiously, even as Xaal made a lunge towards the rabbit, stabbing swiftly towards the soft flesh of the rabbit's neck. It would either have to die here, or make a swift 360 and run in the opposite direction. He would leave it no choice. If it attacked, then he would dodge. His reflexes and instincts were very sharp, if not sensitive. Kishi would, hopefully, be nearby, ready to make scary movements and corral the rabbit towards Isurta's waiting spot.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs Not knowing which way the others went Stegs just took off in a random direction, certain that they would find something to eat. He suddenly realized he had no idea what the other Goblin was called, that was actually a bit embarrassing. He would have to do something about that. "What name did Grandpa give you? He called me Stegs." As he waited for his partner to answer he remembered that the others had some kind of sharp sticks they were planning to use as weapons. Thinking that was incredibly smart, he looked for a good heavy branch. Eventually he found one and picked it up, along with some berries he was planning to plant in the cave. To make carrying things easier, and to find the way back he used to them to mark for now. On the way back he would pick the berries up again. It didn't take too long for the two youngster to arrive at a stream where they found a horned rabbit. Knowing how good his partner was at not being seen Stegs already had a plan. color=39b54a]"I'll distract and you catch it by surprise,okay?"[/color] He never even considered that the other Goblin might not have a weapon or any way to hurt the rabbit.</s>	<\|message\|>Skubli Skubli slowly stalked after the bigger goblin, still wary. His posture was slightly stooped, pulling his body closer to the ground and he scrambled awkwardly along after his companion. After a small amount of time had passed, the other Goblin spoke. "What name did Grandpa give you? He called me Stegs." The other Goblin looked down at Skubli in a kind manner. When Skubli didn't immediately reply, Stegs began scrounging around in the bushes nearby. Soon, he had armed himself with a hefty branch and continued along the path. After trailing behind his partner for a small while, Skubli spoke. "Grandpa gave me Skubli." Right after Skubli had finished speaking, the two goblins arrived at a stream. The cool water flowed smoothly over a shallow bed of rocks before growing deeper as it continued along its path. Trees gently shaded the area along the riverbed, creating a peaceful scene. Down by the stream sat what seemed to Skubli a giant, furry creature, armed with a wicked horn atop its head. It simply had to be the Horned Rabbits Grandpa had warned the younglings about. Stegs seemed to already have concocted a plan of attack. "I'll distract it and you catch it by surprise, okay?" Skubli's heart skipped a beat, however he didn't want to seem weak. "Don't let us get hurt." His weak limbs shook slightly, however under his mantle he doubted Stegs could see it.</s>
<\|description\|>Skubli Gender: Male Appearance: Skubli is remarkably small, even among goblin folk. Standing at a pathetic 3 foot 5 inches, Skubli is smaller than most goblins you'll meet. He possesses a hunched posture and and sleek shape. Skubli's skin is a shadowy green shade, contrasted sharply by his piercing yellow eyes. His lack of hair persists throughout his entire body, even across his scalp. The small goblin wears the typical dark loincloth, however he differs in the fact that he wears a small mantle of black cloth over his shoulders. Physically, this goblish creature is rather fragile. His hands possess sharp nails and flexible fingers. His nose hooks downwards over his mouth, giving him a sleek form. Personality: Skubli is not a particularly warm creature. While his loyalty is undying, his trust is a hard thing to come by. Skulbi won't cause you trouble if you leave him alone, however the little guy can be surprisingly spiteful if you cross him; however, due to his size, Skubli tends to ere on the side of timidity and not anger the big fish in the pond. He finds his anchor in familiarity, such as the black mantle he wears. The surrounding grasp of the cloth brings him comfort. If the goblin can lend you a hand without causing himself too much trouble, he'll usually do it, however Skubli will always try to get something out of it. While he is known to think for himself, Skubli is not a cruel creature. He despises senseless pain, however he has learned that it is simply a fact of life. Past Life History: Skubli's human life had everything that he needed to survive, but not much more. He grew up in the slums of Detroit. He kept his head down and did his best to avoid trouble. His parents weren't the best, however they were always there for him. His mother was a bit of a drunk and his father had an issue with anger, but they raised him as best they could. He never had any siblings to look out for him, so he grew up learning how to take a hit and how to stay out of serious trouble. Skubli always knew that unsuspected acts of violence always happened, but he had become so accustomed to being able to avoid trouble that he never considered he could be a victim. One wrong look at the wrong guy ended up with him living his last few minutes in the corner of an ally, slashed up and bleeding out his last pint of blood. Skill: Skubli's small form, sharp claws for climbing, and dark skin/mantle let him be pretty sneaky. Nothing too astounding, but it takes a pretty sharp goblin to catch him. Other: The mantle he wears is basically his comfort blanket. It keeps him warm and hides him from other people. Without it, he loses a lot of his vitality. Additionally, he's so small that he will probably never be the mightiest goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen --- As Lomen exited the cave, he heard the start of Grandpa's story and would have to ask both Grandpa and Zectoll for more information. If anything it would be an amazing experience for him and anyone else who would hunt the majestic beast. In a way it was ironic the small party that had come back. One had a deep hatred for wolves, another aspires to resemble them, and himself wanted to be closer to beasts and come to an understanding of them and, if possible, learn to live with them or integrate them into the clan. While Kishi would protest, Lomen respected that beasts survive like the goblins do and would prefer to maybe live with a few as companions as he grows in life. That idea made him smile and he looked back to Kishi. "I am glad you decided to join me even with the ceremony just finished." --- As Lomen joined Kishi he also took into consideration both the size and danger of the boar. "Here is my plan: I'll go in for a direct assault and, while it's distracted, you jump down from one of the trees. Since you don't have much reach with your horn, jumping down is much better than being the bait." "Should be fun. It is important we each play around with different positions and find our own fighting style. Be sure to position yourself in front of a tree or large stone. Although the tusks may be scary, they can also be broken or stuck into a tree. If you desire being the bait you can take my shield. If not I will tie it around you or myself as armor. I would prefer to be the bait but I will not stop you if you believe you would be the better bait." Lomen then took some fur off of the horned rabbit pelt and let it float out of his hand in order to find a position downwind. Lomen moved to a spot with trees that was down wind of the boar and sent a small prayer before turning to Kishi. "This is a good spot. I would rather be the one to take a greater risk as bait since you have experienced dropping from above already and I have a skill to help dodge deadly blows. If you want to switch roles, tell me now so I can either go up or wait on you to get to the top." In reality he did not care either way of where he went, but would prefer to have Kishi stay out of immediate danger. Where it would be nice for Kihi to have some front line and bait experience, this is much more dangerous than a horned rabbit and should not be taken lightly. "God of Beasts, I thank you for this hunt. God of Origin please watch over us and help us. God of Life, let my heart beat strongly. God of Death, may you guide the spirits of the fallen. God of Wind guide my strikes. God of Storms please strengthen by blows with thunderous power and lightning speed. To all the Gods, thank you for this world I live in." Lomen is ready to take up position in tree or in front of a tree as bait. After Kishi decides, he will proceed with the plan. If bait will do a challenging roar, waiting to dodge any oncoming charges and possibly slash at legs of boar. If in tree, will wait for an opportune moment to silently drop onto the boar, using heavy strike to drive the horn into the beast. @Duoya</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Dreams of Conquest Listening intently to Grandpa Goblins story, Zectoll munched on his portion of wolf meat with haste, his eyes wide and gleaming. His imagination began to run wild, visions of a huge monstrous wolf with blood drenched fangs and a shimmering noir coat, racing through the shadows of the forest delivering death upon those who would oppose its rule upon the mountaintop and devouring the life of the various beasts of prey to be found within its domain. The visions both frightened and excited him. His spirit was renewed though, as Grandpa Goblin had fed him just as the elder had done when he was but a mere infant. Though the morsel imparted unto him this time was not of plant nor animal flesh, but of knowledge, food for the mind. Zectoll rose to his feet, his stone tipped hunting spear grasped tightly at his side. Thank you, Grandpa. I now know what path I must take. The path of Conquest Conquest.The word had sprung into his mind like lightning during a storm. He would face his fear, build his strength, ascend the mountain to the north and conquer it, usurping the mantle of King from this Great Wolf. Though such a feat was far from his grasp at the current moment, he knew with hard work and determination, he could reach this goal. Why else would the Elder Goblin share this tale with him, if such a goal was impossible to achieve. Zectoll bowed to the Elder Goblin, and then made his way out of the cave, remembering that Lomen had said something about going out to hunt again. Zectoll had barely heard his brother speak, so enraptured was he by the tales of Grandpa. It appeared to him that Kishi had gone as well. Zectoll was alone again. He knew what he must do. The process to defeating the King of the Wolves was simple. He would need to learn more skills and develop them. He would also need better equipment. Finally, he would need to eat and grow bigger and stronger. All of these steps could be accomplished by going out and defeating the various beasts of the forest. Zectoll decided that he would start off small, since he was alone. It was apparent to him that both Kishi and Lomen had each killed horned rabbits on their own, each having a deadly horn as a testament to such a fact. Both also had pelts in which to cover themselves. Zectoll looked down at the dirty rags that encircled his groin. Not good enough. Zectoll said to himself as he stood at the mouth of the cave. Stone spear in hand Zectoll made his way into the forest, making sure to be as quiet as possible. His eyes were focused, as he searched for his intended prey, Horned Rabbit. Deciding he wouldn't stray far from the cave, Zectoll looked for a berry bush. He planned to hide near such a bush, in hopes of ambushing a Horned rabbit. He hoped one with a large horn would come. The Larger the horn, the deadlier the weapon Zectoll thought to himself as he imagined the type of weapon a large rabbit horn could become.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba Noche -rite of passage- As the goblin went to the berry bush he was rewarded for his patience as a large horned rabbit appeared. This was another Alpha having a larger horn then a regular horned rabbit as it didn't smell the goblin nearby but it moved closer to the goblins bush because it had berries. If the goblin didn't move then the goblin would be caught by the rabbit and it will have the first strike and considering how close it would be getting the goblins chances of winning were getting slimmer by the second.</s>	<\|message\|>Skubli Skubli sat, staring mesmerized at the fish as they swam through the river. Their brilliant iridescent sheen gave a wonderful, haunting effect as they twisted their bodies in odd patterns to propel themselves forward through the water. Despite his initial reservations of spending any more time outside of the cave, something drew Skubli to them. As they slowly drifted away, the goblin runt submerged his body into the stream and slowly creeped along the bottom of the riverbed, blending in with the muddy, rocky surface beneath the school of fish. He slowly stalked beneath them, his previous concerns merely a shade of a memory in the back of his mind. His lungs screamed in pain, however the desire to continue to observe the fish was far too powerful for the small, simple minded goblin to resist. Seconds faded into minutes, and it felt as if minutes faded into hours as he followed them, all the while without air to breathe. The school weaved themselves in and out of each other, swimming in dazzling group patters that displayed the wonderful light of their scales. Soft yellows faded into burnt oranges into crimson reds and vibrant violets. Their shining beauty ensnared the goblin, making him forget himself, thinking only of the brilliance of their light... Pain shot through his torso as his body overrode his commands to hold his breath as his lungs sucked in a deep breath of murky water. The tiny runt thrashed, overcome by the pain, and searched for anything to orient himself towards the surface. The shining fish were nowhere to be found, and muddled darkness surrounded him. A faint white light shone to his right, beckoning him towards it. Unaware of which way the surface was, Skubli flailed in the direction of the glow. Fire burned within his lungs, fueled by the cold waters suppressing him. His head broke the surface and air flooded into his half flooded lungs, inducing a coughing fit that brought fresh pain but also relief. After a few minutes, the small creature was able to reorient himself as to his surroundings. He tread water roughly fifty feet off of the shore in a lake, with murky waters reflecting the shining moon above. Trees dotted the shoreline, offering haunting shadows and twisted branches. His limbs slowly gave out as he attempted to stay afloat; swimming was something he wasn't particularly able to do, and the exhaustion made it that much more difficult. Skubli began making his way back towards shore, terrified of the thought of a creature lurking beneath the waters, waiting for him to tire out. Within a couple minutes, the goblin had reached the shore and dragged himself up upon the beach, resting on the cool sand. The water behind him lapped quietly against the shore, reminding Skubli that he had to keep moving to find shelter for the night. He warily entered the forest, his small frame shivering in the cold night air. He walked for hours, searching for shelter, unable to find a safe place to rest. Multiple night creatures followed him throughout the night, searching for an easy meal, however Skubli slipped away from each predator, sneaking through the surrounding underbrush to avoid being slain. Eventually, a massive tree presented itself with minimal low hanging branches. Skubli dug his claws into the bark and ascended, quickly scaling the plant and finding a comfortable perch around forty feet off of the ground. Skubli wrapped himself in his mantle and curled into a tiny ball, letting his exhaustion overtake him as the sun peeked over the horizon. --- The sun was high in the sky when Skubli awoke. His limbs ached and his innards grumbled, desiring of food. The tiny goblin slowly descended from his perch and scrambled along the ground, quickly making his way towards the sound of running water. Whether it was mere luck or some higher power smiling down upon him, he recognized it as the stream that he and his siblings had been hunting near. He followed its path downstream, back towards the lake. He had walked a great distance the previous night and had most likely passed the spot where they had slain the horned rabbit. After almost an hour of quick scampering, he reached the spot where the dazzling fish had first been discovered. Across the river laid the corpse of the horned rabbit, picked clean of anything desirable by Stegs and the second goblin who's name Skubli couldn't recall. The water was pleasantly cool on Skubli's skin as he swam across, moving past the corpse and to the cave as soon as possible. He knew the way back fairly well, despite having only traveled this path once. Soon the cave came into view, with a couple of goblins near the entrance. Skubli slowly crawled back inside, sitting in the entrance and letting his persistent exhaustion overtake him.</s>
<\|description\|>Skubli Gender: Male Appearance: Skubli is remarkably small, even among goblin folk. Standing at a pathetic 3 foot 5 inches, Skubli is smaller than most goblins you'll meet. He possesses a hunched posture and and sleek shape. Skubli's skin is a shadowy green shade, contrasted sharply by his piercing yellow eyes. His lack of hair persists throughout his entire body, even across his scalp. The small goblin wears the typical dark loincloth, however he differs in the fact that he wears a small mantle of black cloth over his shoulders. Physically, this goblish creature is rather fragile. His hands possess sharp nails and flexible fingers. His nose hooks downwards over his mouth, giving him a sleek form. Personality: Skubli is not a particularly warm creature. While his loyalty is undying, his trust is a hard thing to come by. Skulbi won't cause you trouble if you leave him alone, however the little guy can be surprisingly spiteful if you cross him; however, due to his size, Skubli tends to ere on the side of timidity and not anger the big fish in the pond. He finds his anchor in familiarity, such as the black mantle he wears. The surrounding grasp of the cloth brings him comfort. If the goblin can lend you a hand without causing himself too much trouble, he'll usually do it, however Skubli will always try to get something out of it. While he is known to think for himself, Skubli is not a cruel creature. He despises senseless pain, however he has learned that it is simply a fact of life. Past Life History: Skubli's human life had everything that he needed to survive, but not much more. He grew up in the slums of Detroit. He kept his head down and did his best to avoid trouble. His parents weren't the best, however they were always there for him. His mother was a bit of a drunk and his father had an issue with anger, but they raised him as best they could. He never had any siblings to look out for him, so he grew up learning how to take a hit and how to stay out of serious trouble. Skubli always knew that unsuspected acts of violence always happened, but he had become so accustomed to being able to avoid trouble that he never considered he could be a victim. One wrong look at the wrong guy ended up with him living his last few minutes in the corner of an ally, slashed up and bleeding out his last pint of blood. Skill: Skubli's small form, sharp claws for climbing, and dark skin/mantle let him be pretty sneaky. Nothing too astounding, but it takes a pretty sharp goblin to catch him. Other: The mantle he wears is basically his comfort blanket. It keeps him warm and hides him from other people. Without it, he loses a lot of his vitality. Additionally, he's so small that he will probably never be the mightiest goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Lomen's screech did the job, and the injured boar turned to face him. As he did so, Kishi maneuvered himself to it's side, before driving the spear through the mighty beasts flank. The feeling of flesh give way as easy as air caused the goblin to grin. Surely, this is how the wolves must have felt. Killing something so easily... It made Kishi grin. Not out of happiness, but out of satisfaction. He was going to kill anything and everything that threatened his kind, his family. This boar was no exception. Kishi held the spear firmly, before twisting it and letting it go. The boar trembled slightly, almost as if it was trying to fight the fact that it nearly died, before it's legs simply gave way. The eyes of the creature rolled back in it's head, and it remained still. A long, drawn out breath exited, and the creature expired. Kishi grinned. The fear of death was gone, at least temporarily. It was imposible for him to die, at least right now. He refused to die as long as there was one creature that threatened the goblin existence. His kind were not meant to be stepping stones, as food. Not anymore, at least. Lomen moved close to the east and began to extract the heart, which Kishi had honestly thought was destroyed. Lomen turned to the goblin. "You should eat a bit as well before we take this back to camp. I think it would be best to share our hunt with the clan since I am well fed and we still have a wolf I need to show you how to skin." Kishi's eyes turned towards the tusks of the creature, and he carefully removed his spear so as to not harm Lomen. Kishi quickly slashed at the two blade-like bones with his spear. Both broke off cleanly, and Kishi tossed one of them to Lomen. As Kishi replaced the horn of the rabbit with the tusk, he gave out his response. "I refuse to eat this. At least, right now. I will not eat this until every other goblin in our home has had their fill. Grandfather especially. He is far to old to be doing his own hunting." Kishi wasn't going to let any goblin in his home die, even if they couldn't hunt. If he had to, he was going to feed every damn one of them himself. The tusk was curved and, as a result, Kishi's spear was now more akin to a halberd than anything else. Kishi gave the weapon several practice swings before Lomen spoke again. "Also, Kishi, I do not know what happened when you made your screech earlier, but I have gotten a skill called 'challenge'..." An intense wave of pain flooded throughout all of Kishi's body. All around him was pure blackness, and an intense feeling of hunger consumed his being. Slowly, the hunger faded, leaving in it's place a cold numbness. Just as soon as it appeared, it faded away, and Lomen's voice reappeared. "...something like this after the fight with the wolves?" Kishi breathed heavily, a look of fear in his eyes. He tuned away from Lomen, and gave out his reply. "...I don't know what you're talking about, Brother Lomen." A wetness appeared on his face, and Kishi reached up to remove it. As he pulled away, a red liquid followed. ...Blood? Kishi wiped away the fluid quickly, before moving to the rear of the beast and grabbing hold of it's hooves. "...We should take this back home. We can divide up the parts back there. Besides, this thing is too large to carry back with anything else, and the blood will draw lot's of attention." The fear of death had returned. 4 Winds,@Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen --- "...I don't know what you're talking about, Brother Lomen....We should take this back home. We can divide up the parts back there. Besides, this thing is too large to carry back with anything else, and the blood will draw lot's of attention." "So you mean to say you have never acquired any skills from your previous battles? Not even any special strikes or the kind? I was hoping I could possibly see if I could learn a few of your skills and teach you some of mine. Either way, I agree that we need to take this back together brother Kishi." Lomen smiled and helped lift the boar and started them off towards the cave. He kept an even pace so that Kishi would match it and they would be able to get back to the cave within a good amount of time. Meanwhile Lomen kept his ear open to Kishi and enjoyed the clean air of the forest as a small breeze brushed past. Lomen sniffed the air to see how it smelled and also to see if there was anything unusual upwind that would be better off avoided. @Duoya</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- First Blood As quickly as it had began, the conflict between Goblin and Horned rabbit was over. Zectoll's savage strike ended the Alpha's life quickly, before it could attempt to fight back. The feeling of slaying a beast in such a fast and complete fashion was exhilarating to Zectoll. He could feel the new skill he had learned, without reading its description. The skill savage strike and predator stance had begun to affect his mind, and how he felt. Crouching down eyes narrowed and ears alert, Zectoll observed his surroundings, for any potential threat. For a moment he thought that perhaps he should find Lomen and Kishi, but the thought soon faded, replaced by a desire to feast upon this fresh kill. Zectoll ripped the Alpha's large horn from its head and used it to puncture the fallen rabbits throat. A stream of blood, still warm with fading life began to spill from the wound. Zectoll lapped up the blood greedily. After draining much of the blood from the carcass, Zectoll hoisted the kill onto his back. In his new found predator stance Zectoll stalked through the shadows of the forest quietly, making his way back to the cave.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba @demonspade64 -After a flower- The flower was dead and as such once they figured out what to do with the remains they soon saw that it was starting to get dark. The remains of the flower had many uses with its petals being able to be created into a bag even the lure was useful as it could make small animals like horned rabbits come to eat it. The flower was useful and their was no doubt a live flower next time could be even better even as a primitive form of defense if they thought to use the flower that way. --- @The 4 Winds As the goblins spoke the sun was starting to set showing that it was dark and while they were no doubt productive in gaining such a large bounty they would no doubt need to hurry back before it got to dark. The meat was hard to carry back even if they ate some before trying to carry it back. The tusks were very sharp and perfect to made into a weapon which one of the goblins already did. No doubt tomorrow would be an even better day considering they didn't need to worry about food with the meat they brought back so tomorrow they would be able to relax without worry of starving. --- Noche Predator heads back- The goblin soon enjoyed its kill eating the remains of his prey happily. This goblin was soon gaining the skills necessary to be a great killer but not just any killer but a predator in his own right. As the goblin went into his predators stance his steps seemed not to make a sound making the trip back safe. The sun was setting and it was time to head back anyways as he soon found himself at the cave first and Grandpa only noticed the young one when he was near him "You were so quiet. Make some noise when you walk you could have given this old goblin a heart attack" He said panting a little still surprised but smiling at the young one being able to be so quiet would no doubt serve the young one well</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Overall, the trip back home was long and arduous. The boar, which was larger than either goblin and weighed many times more, offered no assistance, and the wound that Kishi had inflicted had made the fur slick with blood in certain parts. Overall, the trip was spent with idle chit-chat and labored grunting. After Kishi had given his response to Lomen, he continued on his discussion of these so called "Skills" "So you mean to say you have never acquired any skills from your previous battl-" Once again, Lomen was cut off. Darkness had encompassed all of Kishi's view. All that remained was a light pain in his stomach, and the sound of waves in the distance. Kishi could feel soft sand beneath his body, and the scent of ocean air filled his senses. By the time he tried to grasp any meaning on the strange event, it immediately vanished, with Lomen returning to his view. "-we need to take this back together brother Kishi." "I apologize, but I do not know what you mean when you refer to these skills. I agree, we seem to develop traits and actions quite easily... But I never got a skill with a name. Perhaps you are special in that regard. You should ask Grandfather about it. He is quite wise in regards to the ways of the world." After he finished giving advice, Kishi slowly lifted the boars back legs, and the rest of the trip consisted of chit-chat and Kishi instructing Lomen on the directions he needed to follow in order to not slam into a tree or trip. --- What felt like hours passed by, and by the time the goblins had finally reached the cavern, it was already dusk, the sun turning the sky into a crimson expanse. Slowly, the boar was carried inside, much to the envy of the less fortunate goblins in the family. The boar was laid at the feet of Grandfather. It wasn't until Kishi wiped the sweat from his face that he noticed Brother Zectoll was standing next to Grandfather, and looked... much more threatening than he usually did. Dismissing this thought, Kishi lightly tapped the side of the boar, creating a soft slapping sound that echoed throughout the entire cave. Kishi began to speak. "Greetings, Grandfather! I apoligize that I interrupted your conversation with Brother Zectoll, but I bring great news! Brother Lomen and I have returned with a feast for the family! If you would be so kind, I would be in your debt if you distributed this to those who are unable to catch their own food. If brother Lomen-" Kishi turns to face both Grandfather and Lomen at the same time. "-is done claiming his share, it would be an honor to allow you the first cut." Kishi grinned happily. Surely, this boar would be able to feed the rest of his kin. His people would be able to live another day. And all it cost was the life of one disgusting monster! @The 4 Winds@El Noche</s> <\|message\|>Stegs Stegs --- After Stegs successfully tore one of the petals off he placed the berries and plants he collected on it and used the petal as a makeshift bag. He didn't really see what uses the other parts of the plant could be, but maybe that goblin who made the spears could think of something and if not there were still plenty of future bags so on the way back he made sure to memorize the path. Once he arrived at the cave Stegs heard some goblin talk about a feast for the whole family which was convenient cause he was starving, though the downside was that both Grandpa and the weapon maker were busy. Impatiently he waited until either the old goblin was free so he could try and convince him to help identify his loot, or until he could tell the weaponmaker about the flower and the possibilities it might offer. @demonspade64</s>	<\|message\|>Skubli Skulbi slept for hours, his eyes fluttering back and forth beneath his closed lids. Haunted dreams and dark half memories led to surreal hallucinations, however they blurred together into nothingness. When the goblin awoke, he was further into the cave than he last remembered, snuggled warmly in his mantle. A few goblins murmured faintly near the mouth of the cave. Skubli allowed himself to rest, trembling slightly as he reflected upon his newfound life. He had been keeping a mental barrier to remove himself from the negative emotions of his existence since the moment he was born, however it was at its breaking point. The small goblin trembled violently in his warm mantle, unable to handle the thought of his new life. Time passed, and eventually he made his way out to the rest of the cave to continue his life.</s>
<\|description\|>Skubli Gender: Male Appearance: Skubli is remarkably small, even among goblin folk. Standing at a pathetic 3 foot 5 inches, Skubli is smaller than most goblins you'll meet. He possesses a hunched posture and and sleek shape. Skubli's skin is a shadowy green shade, contrasted sharply by his piercing yellow eyes. His lack of hair persists throughout his entire body, even across his scalp. The small goblin wears the typical dark loincloth, however he differs in the fact that he wears a small mantle of black cloth over his shoulders. Physically, this goblish creature is rather fragile. His hands possess sharp nails and flexible fingers. His nose hooks downwards over his mouth, giving him a sleek form. Personality: Skubli is not a particularly warm creature. While his loyalty is undying, his trust is a hard thing to come by. Skulbi won't cause you trouble if you leave him alone, however the little guy can be surprisingly spiteful if you cross him; however, due to his size, Skubli tends to ere on the side of timidity and not anger the big fish in the pond. He finds his anchor in familiarity, such as the black mantle he wears. The surrounding grasp of the cloth brings him comfort. If the goblin can lend you a hand without causing himself too much trouble, he'll usually do it, however Skubli will always try to get something out of it. While he is known to think for himself, Skubli is not a cruel creature. He despises senseless pain, however he has learned that it is simply a fact of life. Past Life History: Skubli's human life had everything that he needed to survive, but not much more. He grew up in the slums of Detroit. He kept his head down and did his best to avoid trouble. His parents weren't the best, however they were always there for him. His mother was a bit of a drunk and his father had an issue with anger, but they raised him as best they could. He never had any siblings to look out for him, so he grew up learning how to take a hit and how to stay out of serious trouble. Skubli always knew that unsuspected acts of violence always happened, but he had become so accustomed to being able to avoid trouble that he never considered he could be a victim. One wrong look at the wrong guy ended up with him living his last few minutes in the corner of an ally, slashed up and bleeding out his last pint of blood. Skill: Skubli's small form, sharp claws for climbing, and dark skin/mantle let him be pretty sneaky. Nothing too astounding, but it takes a pretty sharp goblin to catch him. Other: The mantle he wears is basically his comfort blanket. It keeps him warm and hides him from other people. Without it, he loses a lot of his vitality. Additionally, he's so small that he will probably never be the mightiest goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Day 4:Duel of Goblins, continued Zectoll's muscled pumped with blood, bulging under the strain of throwing his opponent over his shoulder. He watched as Lomen hit the ground, rolling roughly upon the ground before springing back up, a small bit of blood leaking from his back. Zectoll watched as he brother touched the small wound, licking up the blood. For a brief moment his mind receded out to memories of his fateful dream, of being bathed in blood. The thought passed as quickly as it came and Zectoll slipped back into his predatory trance, fixated once again on the duel. Throwing Lomen had winded Zectoll slightly, so in the brief moments of Lomen recovering from the throw, Zectoll breathed deeply out of his nose taking a moment to recover himself. His muscles were still pumped as he watched Lomen go on the offense. Zectoll expected another heavy blow and began to dodge, not anticipating a quick short jab to the body. The jab caught him squarely in the side. Zectoll gritted his teeth as he took the blow that was lighter than he expected, and immediately countered with a left right jab combination aimed at Lomen's upper torso and head, this time performing the attacks as fast as he was able. 4 winds@Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen @El Noche --- With the hit Lomen had anticipated the attacks but still got hit squarely in the chest with the first jab, barely able to step back and dodge the right jab. It appeared that even with his ability to dodge it only went so far against speed. This was an invaluable lesson for Lomen in that he couldn't only rely on his skills to pull him through a fight unscathed. With that in mind Lomen backed up so that he was a bit further than before, attempting to stay just outside Zectoll's reach and inside his own. Since he was already moving the punch didn't damage him too much but it was a hit that could add up faster than Lomen wanted to take. Lomen stepped forwards with his left leg and drew his right hand back, seeming to go for another big swing. What he would actually aim for would be a jab with his left using Heavy strike. Lomen was attempting a feint. After he would crouch down and use the momentum from the punch to try a leg sweeping move with his right leg, using the left leg as a pivot and his hands as stabilizers to help him dash back a bit if the attack was successful. Either way this was an interesting bout as blood pulsed through his body, making a small growl escape as he was crouched down. Lomen was still vigilant and kept his eyes on Zectoll's movements, trying to find attacks that he could replicate later on and how to best avoid them.</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Day 4:Duel of Goblins, continued His left fist hit squarely into Lomen's chest, resounding off as his right fist flew forward, barely missing as Lomen evaded the blow out . Zectoll could feel the rhythm of the fight intensifying, and he would not let the beat fall in tempo. He began to press Lomen, aggressively moving in. He could see that Lomen was going for another heavy hit, but Zectoll pressed on, his guard up ready to take the blow in order to get inside Lomen's guard. Zectoll began to attempt to access the stream of consciousness that had flowed within him earlier in the day, gifting him the knowledge of unarmed fighting, his mind praying to whatever higher power he subconsciously felt he was connected with. Lomen's heavy strike flew, not from the right, but from the left. Fully anticipating to take the strike, the blow landed against Zectoll's guard heavily, stopping his advancement. The force of the blow flowed through him, breaking his guard. Unable to continue forward and reeling from the heavy strike Zectoll barely glimpsed the sweeping of Lomen's legs just in time to tuck his own legs underneath him, rolling to the side, feigning as if he had truly been tripped, using the maneuver and momentum of the heavy strike to deftly roll springing up behind Lomen and using the force of the roll to perform a side kick aimed at Lomen's midsection. The kick was a mirror of what Lomen had done, only aimed higher up on the body. 4 winds@Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen @El Noche --- Lomen felt the impact and snapped his eyes on Zectol as he felt nothing but the air greet his attempt at a leg sweep. With the lack of impact Lomen was cautious as Zectoll rolled and was rewarded with seeing a kick incoming with momentum. Lomen was able to use his hands and left leg to jump back but his left forearm was hit by the blow. It was a strong blow and threw off Lomen's balance, causing him to skid and tumble on the ground. The rocks were not kind to the other cuts, increasing their number, along with tearing open the cuts on Lomen's back, now gently bleeding. Again Lomen touched his back and felt a slight increase in pain than last time, licking the blood off of his fingers as he stood up. This was a good bout but Lomen felt that he couldn't say it was in his favor. He seemed to be outclassed in speed and that last hit made his left arm feel a bit numb, so it would need a few moments to recover. Moments he wouldn't have. He also had a nagging feeling that he was on the edge of learning something and must push on. Keeping Zectoll in sight was paramount as Lomen focused, taking a few deep breaths to clear his head and he slightly crouched a bit. He lifted his hands in front him to be able to judge how far his fists could truly reach and bounced on the balls of his feet. A few bounces made him feel as if he was a heart pulsing blood through his body, although it made him feel the small tinge of pain on his back from the open scratches. Cautiously he made his way forward, keeping Zectoll in vision as to not lose him. A few feet of slowly approaching, Lomen would try to quickly approach with a zig-zag pattern, much like he did with against the Alpha Horned Rabbit on his first hunt. As he got close, he would dash to the left and try a quick right knee at Zectoll's midsection using Heavy Strike. It would be using Lomen's full body weight behind it. In order to pull the knee back, Lomen would then twist his body to throw a left hook aiming at Zectoll's right shoulder. It was a risky move, but Lomen was more interested in how Zectoll would react that what would happen to himself.</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Day 4:Duel of Goblins, continued Zectoll felt his foot collide with Lomen's arm, the blow throwing his brother off balance, sending him tumbling away once again. His dexterity and speed had proved to be critical in this bout, he landed lightly on his feet after delivering the kick. Zectoll used this brief moment of separation to recover as well, reforming his guard and readying his stance. He eyed Lomen intensely, preparing for the next onslaught his brother would bring to bare. Lomen began to charge at him, darting from left to right. It seemed that Lomen was going for an all out attack. A wide grin appeared on Zectoll's face, as he realized that Lomen's fighting spirit was much like his own. Zectoll was prepared, his stance and guard ready, he would accept Lomen's fighting spirit. He would not run from Lomen's risky attack, he would meet it with his own, two fighting spirits colliding. As Lomen dashed towards him, right knee outstretched, Zectoll threw a powerful jab, putting as much speed and power into the blow as he could muster. The reach of his arm was longer than Lomen's knee, and with Lomen committing his full body-weight to the attack, Zectoll doubted his brother would be able to change course in time to dodge the blow. Excitement coursed through him as his fist flew, a look of intensity on his face, a low growl escaping his lips, confident that his jab would land true preventing Lomen's knee attack from landing with full force. Though he felt that Lomen's endurance was very great, he imagined that the force of his jab combined with the momentum of Lomen's dash would be enough to end the bout. 4 winds@Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen @El Noche --- Lomen knew this would be bad going in and was ready to face the consequences. It seemed to happen in slow motion as he left the ground, smiling back at Zectoll's grin. The motion as Zectoll threw the jab, using a slight swinging motion in order to place more weight behind the blow and to strike true in Lomen's exposed midsection. Lomen could do nothing but feel the impact crash into his body, shocking him to the core, causing some of his breath to escape him as the shock ravaged through him. Even so Zectoll had shown bravery in fighting him head on so Lomen did not regret his hasty decision. Although he still had to follow through to the end, even with no breath left in him, his body reeling in shock from the impact, Lomen still had something left to give. With his last strength, he let out a rallying roar, using the last of his breath to revitalize himself enough to turn his body and attempt a last left hook at Zectoll's midsection. Afterwards Lomen knew he would likely crash to the ground, with little strength left, but was happy that he could give it his all. This would be his last strike and he knew that after this he would not be able to get up for some time. It would be a bit painful to not be able to stand without help, but the bout was worth that consequence and he would accept his defeat.</s> <\|message\|>Luz Luz Luz heard that there was going to be a mock hunt between goblins Lomen and Kishi, and to be honested the idea of watching such an event sound awesome; Sadly Luz didn't have the time to watch such an event for she was one of the only goblins without a skill yet. In her mind to fall so far behind the other goblins was a disgrace. So the prideful goblin when into a quiet yet well-lit area to train alone. Once she found a place to train Luz took the spear off makeshift spear off her back and begin practicing on thrusting her spear for tomorrow's hunt. woosh woosh woosh The female goblin has been practicing thrust her weapon for about 5 minutes. her skin was drench in sweat. Her new body wasn't used yet used to the practice as her old was, that was something she had to fix. So she used her shame of falling behind as a drive to push her body past its limits. She wanted to perform about 20 more good thrust before she took a break, any thrust without the effort put behind it wouldn't count.</s>	<\|message\|>Skubli Skubli spent a few more minutes attempting to remove a couple more of the odd rocks from the walls, however, it was a fruitless effort. They remained fused inside the wall, unwilling to relent from their position within in the stone. The small goblin collected the three rocks he had managed to remove from the wall and moved over towards the larger room of the alcove. Skubli slid one of the rocks into a crevice in the wall, hiding it securely. He took the other two with him outside of the alcove, intending to keep one and show the other to Grandpa. The main room of the cave was live with activity; brothers Zectoll and Lomen battled ferociously in their "mock hunt" as many other goblins watched from the sidelines. A goblin with an odd form that Skubli didn't recognize dueled with an invisible opponent, thrusting their staff into the air again and again in a stabbing motion. Intimidated by the conflict, Skubli hugged the cave wall, passing by the crowds undetected, slowly sneaking up behind Grandpa. The runt reached out and tugged gently on the older Goblin's cloak, gaining his attention as he offered up the odd rock he had found in the wall. "Grandpa, I found this strange rock," He stated, unwilling to reveal the location of where he had discovered it for fear of the other Goblins wanting into his alcove. "It's very hard, maybe unbreakable. What is it?"</s>
<\|description\|>Stegs Gender: Male Appearance: Being no taller or shorter than the average goblin Stegs's distinguishing mark is the fact his skin color is bright green, similar to leafs in spring Personality: While not a lone wolf, Stegs does appreciate some privacy every now and then. He has no issues killing non intelligent animals, but prefers to avoid combat with sentient creatures. Though he will fight in either selfdefense or to protect other members of his colony/clan/tribe/whatever a group of goblins is called. Despite the dangers he prefers being out in the forest over staying in the cave, mostly because he likes all the different plants. He is industrious but has a tendency to get wrapped up in his pet projects, especially if he feels it can help the colony. Past Life History : Once in another world Stegs was a gardener named Danny Richards. One day while putting the finishing touches on a topiary turtle, the middle aged man suffered a fatal heart attack. when he opened his eyes again all memories of Danny Richard and that other world were gone. Skill: Stegs has basic instinctive knowledge on how to grow plants, or in other words he has both literally and figuratively green thumbs. Other (anything you think should be put up): I'm a Mighty Goblin EXP: 3/100 Inventory: * Stick (equipped) * Flower Petal Acquired Skills: * lesser medicine creation: learned how to make minor healing salves and medication powder. * Planting This skill was learned when he planted the berries into the ground. He gained lesser knowledge on how to plant and harvest low level plants. !Blessings gained!: * honor the fallen: Has a higher affinity with death</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen @Duoya@El Noche --- "Of course I will show you! However... I will decide where we go to hunt. After all, you have never been outside before right, Brother Zectoll? Here, this is yours now." It was nice to see how other goblins got along but it made Lomen feel somewhat lonely. Even though it would be nice to be a watcher of history and see people live their lives out, he would prefer to live with them. With this in mind he turned to leave before hearing someone approach, when he looked back he saw Goblin Zectoll eagerly standig nearby with his spear. Lomen showed a toothless smiled and listened to him with an open stance. You have tasted of death as well, like Goblin Kishi. Horned rabbits are fierce opponent yes, Goblin Lomen? Zectoll thinks that it is the horned rabbit who should worry about being impaledI am waiting on Goblin Kishi, he agreed to teach one such as I what he has learned of life and death. You also seem to have knowledge of life and death. Would you join our party as well? Lomen kept his smile but didn't show teeth while he took a moment to consider the option. Meanwhile he took the horn that he had gotten from the alpha and measured it against the spears horn. His was somewhat larger and this caused a toothy grin and almost dreadful feeling exhuming from Lomen before he stopped and put the horn back on his hip with the stick. "The horned rabbit is a fast opponent. It's legs is where its life lies, but once you take that away, even large ones will fall. It seems I killed a larger version of the rabbit, but I must admit that Goblin Kishi did encounter more rabbits than I. Could you lead us to a good hunting ground for horned rabbits? If so we could make a strategy before fighting them and I have a few ideas that could help us." Lomen then gave both Gblin Zectol and Kishi with some good berries he acquired yesterday. Even though he would have liked a snack before leaving, Zectol's stomach had growled earlier and Kishi faced the loss of two party members on the first hunt. Both could have negative influences on the hunt. "Also eat a bit before the hunt. Food is important for strength and life." Lomen took off the pelt and wrapped it into an over the shoulder strap for his shield as he walked towards the edge of the cave. While doing so, he straightened his back, making a few audible snapping sounds before continuing. For a short time you could see his spine protruding a bit like a mountainside along his back before it was quickly covered by the shield. "Kishi, whenever you are ready, let's head out to the hunt. And Zectol. . ." Lomen looked over at him with almost jovial eyes."I think the best teacher of life and death are the experiences of both. The life you live, and witnessing death, be it for good or bad." Afterwards Lomen put his hands together and gave a thanks to the gods for the opportunity to live another day. Lomen will be ready to leave with hunting party.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba 4 Winds@El Noche@Duoya -day two: the next hunt- The day would start again and a new hunt would begin as their leader goblin Kishi went to where he last saw his first goblin companions. What they soon found were two corpses that could only belong to the two goblins they were stripped to the bone the only thing identifying them as their companions were the equipment that was still on them. However before they could even get close to them their were two Black wolves feasting on the remains. Their leader was long gone but their were tracks leading to where they were going. The two wolves before them were obviously runts of the litter getting the scraps the stronger wolves left behind they were eating what was left of the two goblins. While they may be runts they were still wolves that could rip them to pieces should they try to go on the frontal assault they needed to be very careful if they were to live should they try to attack the wolves as revenge for their fallen comrades</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Kishi walked with fake confidence as he led the other two goblins down the path. The rabbit corpse was missing a leg, which was currently being eaten by the goblin. Even if he didn't have an appetite at the moment, he needed all the strength he could get. The pathway the followed was all too familiar to Kishi; his fear had made the moment retain perfect clarity in his memories. Kishi finished his small meal, storing the bone in his loincloth, next to his rock. He slowed down slightly as they approached the area, when Kishi noticed the two wolves in the distance. The mere sight of them caused Kishi's blood to boil, his vision briefly flaring red. He had to spend several seconds to resist the urge to simply jump on them. After all, running in without a plan was suicidal. He quickly looked around, taking in his surroundings. The pathway was a large path of beaten dirt, and blood littered the round everywhere. The two rabbit corpses were lying with the goblins, having been picked to the bone. Along the sides of the pathway were numerous bushes, allowing Kishi to quickly move behind them and motion for Zectoll and Lomen to do the same. Trees were abundant in the area, and blocked a decent amount of sunlight from reaching the ground. Kishi did not take this in as significant, however; even if the light was blocked enough to prevent sight, the wolves most likely had much more acute senses. The corpses (The sight of which caused Kishi to become slightly nauseous) were in the center of the road and the bones that showed were covered in bite marks. A plan slowly awoke in Kishi's mind, but it was risky. It could leave him severely wounded, if not dead should it be performed without proper timing. Despite this, however, he decided to silently voice his plan to the goblins. "Here is my plan: I will climb one of the trees and, once I am in position, you two will launch an attack from the back of the wolf furthest from my tree. As you do so, I will leap down onto the other wolf, skewering him to the ground." "If either of you can think of something that doesn't have a good chance of breaking my legs, however, please tell me." Despite saying the last part of his plan jokingly, the fear that had permeated him earlier was gone. In it's place, a cold vengeance washed over Kishi's being. ,@The 4 Winds,@El Noche</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen @Duoya@El Noche --- Lomen followed Kishi carefully, keeping track of him when they got to the wolves in case he needed to jump in to fight. Fortunately that was not the case. He took a moment to look over the fallen goblins and took a second to mill over the fact that the wolves who killed them were doing the same as they were, huntin to survive and grow. With this in mind Lomen sent a small prayer to the gods of beasts, death, and life for allowing him to see this early in life. When Kishi moved to the brush, Lomen silently followed and listened intently. Kishi's plan was good but Lomen still wanted to expand upon it for himself and Zectoll. "It sounds like a good plan Kishi, but a few points first. One, we make sure to attempt the tree attack from downwind. Second, I and Zectoll will attack to cut off the tracked route. And don't worry about the fall, the wolves look like a comfy landing. Lomen smiled showing his toothy grin that immediately went away as he realized that their was a possibility of Kishi missing his drop. "Ok. Lastly, Zectoll, stay behind me and be ready to back up Kishi in the case he misses the drop. Where I don't think that will be the case, I am the only one with any protection and Kishi may be left open if he misses the drop. I should be able to fend off one of the wolves long enough for you two to kill the other. Ready? If so lets get into position and above all. Stay alive." Lomen took a few hairs off of the rabbit pelt and let them fall to the ground, that would show where the wind was blowing and would establish where downwind actually is. He prepped his shield and decided the medium horn would be better for this hunt, since wounding the legs and neck would be critical to victory. Although in case of emergency, he still had the stick. Lomen is fully prepped for the hunt to begin and is waiting for others to get into position before the assault.</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Greedily, Zectoll consumed Lomen's berries and advice. The pleasantly sweet fruit calmed his starving stomach and the advice his fellow goblin gave produced a measure of confidence within him. The big eared goblin followed Kishi and Lomen out of the cave and into the forest. Zectoll observed his surroundings with awe, and a small measure of fear. For it was in this place, so green and full of life, that he and his fellow goblins would glean through lethal struggle the means to live another day. Zectoll clutched his spear tightly, treading softly on the forest floor as to not make a sound. His red goblin eyes peering intently into the surrounding forest, attempting to see some trace of horned rabbit. He wanted a similar trophy as Lomen, a wicked rabbit horn to call his own. Soon they had reached their intended destination, Kishi quickly motioning for them to take up positions as to ambush their intended prey. Zectoll obliged with haste, crouching low as he peered into the thicket. The sight of macabre scene of the two canines feasting on the remains of his kin shook Zectoll. His earlier confidence wavered. No longer was the concept of death simply an abstract idea in his head. For it was here before him, in the form of two black wolves. He did his best to hide his fear from Lomen and Kishi, his face showed an expression of calm. "Here is my plan: I will climb one of the trees and, once I am in position, you two will launch an attack from the back of the wolf furthest from my tree. As you do so, I will leap down onto the other wolf, skewering him to the ground." "If either of you can think of something that doesn't have a good chance of breaking my legs, however, please tell me." Zectoll was quite surprised by Brother Kishi's idea. It sounded quite risky. Zectoll glanced back at the wolves, taking note of their biting fangs. He then looked to his spear. For the wolf to do him harm, it would have to come quite close. But for Zectoll, the biting point of his spear was far away from his own body. He knew that he had the advantage in regards to reach, Kishi as well being similarly armed as he. He perhaps thought it would be best, if the three made a formation, with Lomen in the middle shield up, Kishi and Zectoll on each flank. Together they would ambush and corral one of the wolves, hoping to finish the kill quickly before the second wolf could come to into the fight. But Zectoll kept his thoughts to himself, as this was his first hunt. He would go along with whatever plan Lomen and Kishi came up with. Zectoll nodded at Lomen at Kishi and quietly got into position to ambush the wolf beneath tree. He watched the wolf eating, and how it's chest and stomach undulated as it ate and breathed. Deciding the life of the wolf lay in that area of the body, Zectoll planned to impale the wolf in the side, attacking from its rear flank should brother Kishi miss or fail to kill the wolf off in one hit. Instinctively he knew that most of the power from his strike should come from his legs, and flow up into his arms. If the wolf turned on him, he would take up and defensive stance using the length of the spear to keep the wolf at bay so that Kishi could finish it off. Though if Kishi's attack struck true, Zectoll would immediately rush to aid Lomen utilizing quick jabs aimed at the wolf's legs, and using the length of his spear to keep the wolf at bay. 4 winds @Duoya @El Noche Zectoll is ready to strike</s>	<\|message\|>Stegs Stegs knew full well the risks that came with going out in to the forest alone, in no small part thanks to the injury he received the other day, but he felt it would be unfair to ask any of the others to help him look for what might be well inedible berries even if they were the ones he wanted. Since he was going from memory Stegs picked a few berries of every bush he came across and left a small symbol of whatever items he could find on the forest floor to mark the bushes he tried. He ran into issues carrying the berries pretty fast seeing as he only had one free hand. He wondered if he should go back to the cave and drop his loot off there but quickly decided against it, not only would make it take much longer to collect more berries he might accidentally end up poisoning his brothers and sisters. He sat down for a while to ponder his dilemma and stopped paying attention to his surroundings.</s>
<\|description\|>Stegs Gender: Male Appearance: Being no taller or shorter than the average goblin Stegs's distinguishing mark is the fact his skin color is bright green, similar to leafs in spring Personality: While not a lone wolf, Stegs does appreciate some privacy every now and then. He has no issues killing non intelligent animals, but prefers to avoid combat with sentient creatures. Though he will fight in either selfdefense or to protect other members of his colony/clan/tribe/whatever a group of goblins is called. Despite the dangers he prefers being out in the forest over staying in the cave, mostly because he likes all the different plants. He is industrious but has a tendency to get wrapped up in his pet projects, especially if he feels it can help the colony. Past Life History : Once in another world Stegs was a gardener named Danny Richards. One day while putting the finishing touches on a topiary turtle, the middle aged man suffered a fatal heart attack. when he opened his eyes again all memories of Danny Richard and that other world were gone. Skill: Stegs has basic instinctive knowledge on how to grow plants, or in other words he has both literally and figuratively green thumbs. Other (anything you think should be put up): I'm a Mighty Goblin EXP: 3/100 Inventory: * Stick (equipped) * Flower Petal Acquired Skills: * lesser medicine creation: learned how to make minor healing salves and medication powder. * Planting This skill was learned when he planted the berries into the ground. He gained lesser knowledge on how to plant and harvest low level plants. !Blessings gained!: * honor the fallen: Has a higher affinity with death</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Day 4: The mantled one As Zectoll felt the weight of the spear leaving his hands he felt as if a path had been closed off from him. A destiny different from the one in which a spear wield Zectoll would inhabit, a reality he would now never know. "Thank you Brother Zectoll, I hope my weapon has served you well. I am glad to see that you have created your own weapons! Maybe you'll take after me? Ha Ha Ha! But... Why did you name the weapon? It isn't really my place to ask, but a weapon is a tool, not something that is deserving of a name." Zectoll thought for a moment, and then merely shrugged. He could not find the words to convey what he felt. That the naming of the weapon was more of a declaration of intent, a capitalization of his hope and desire for a particular future. With the matter of the bones settled, and his spear in the hands of goblin Luz, Zectoll was satisfied. Zectoll looked about the cave, observing the various goblins going about their day. He noticed Brother Lomen speaking with Grandpa and later motioning him over to the back of the cave. Earlier Zectoll had noticed something going back there, covered in a black material. He had recalled days earlier, during his tormented time that there was such a creature in the cave. A creature that rarely came out from under it's black covering. He wasn't sure if this being that shared the cave with them was a goblin, or something else entirely, as he had never spoken to it nor gleamed a glimpse of what it looked like underneath its black mantle. Zectoll sauntered over to Lomen cautiously, and peaked into the alcove. You called for me Brother Lomen? The alcove seemed to have become somewhat of a living space for the mantled one. Not wanting to intrude Zectoll took several steps back. Greetings mantled one, I am the goblin known as Zectoll. Zectoll was interested in finding out the nature of this being. 4 winds @December</s> <\|message\|>Luz Luz @Jangel13@Duthguy Luz looked a bit surprised When Kishi decided to just give the spear to her, she wanted to learn how to make her own weapons so she would be a burden but it seems that this guy wanted to be the clan's blacksmith so he can increase his production skills. either way, she happily accepted the spear. "Thank you. I own you one" She told him nicely before grabbing her new weapon and practicing a jab "I'll see if i can find you some adhesive tomorrow if it stops raining." She told him. By giving him adhesive she can be repaid her debt to him. She also found the idea of using the barbs as protection an interesting idea. She's glad that she and Greg killed the flower the other day. She then moves to him to shake his hand. "I'm Luz by the way." She told him. Once she had the time Luz begins practicing jabbing with her new spear, she did so very violently.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs Stegs --- \|Having discussed what he wanted with Kishi Stegs decided to ask Luz if she wanted to help the day if it wasn't raining then. Since she was busy swinging her spear around he made sure to stay at a safe distance just in case. "I understand if you would prefer to hunt but do you think you have time to help me and hopefully drag that flower back here?" As soon as he had gotten her answer he went on to look for other goblins to assist with the task. After walking through the cave for a while he came across two goblins who were looking in a hole. He heard one of them talk about a "mantled one" which reminded him of Skubli. A quick peek inside revealed it almost had to be the smal goblin. Hey Skubli, is that you? If so do you think you can help me out with something tomorrow? It shouldn't be dangerous at all." @demonspade64@December</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - Noche@Duthguy@The 4 Winds --- The sudden arrival of three goblins made Skubli hesitant to move, nervous about the amount of attention he was receiving. He listened to each of their statements one by one and slowly crawled towards the entrance of the alcove, looking up in awe at the larger, stronger goblins. After hearing brother Lomen's request, he shook his head. "Skubli likes the way the rocks are." He stated matter-of-factly, hesitant to allow another Goblin into his private space. As brother Zectoll spoke, Skubli slowly poked his head out from underneath his mantle and gave a hint of a smile at his eloquent language, however it left the lesser Goblin feeling confused as to what exactly he meant. "I'm Skubli." Pausing for a moment, he considered his introduction carefully before continuing. "You can call me Skubli. Nice to meet you." Proud of his introduction and mastery over language, he moved on to focus on brother Stegs. "Skubli survived night outside of cave. Skubli can handle danger." The little Goblin nodded his head in affirmation to his own statement before continuing. "Skubli can help brother Stegs."</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Zectoll offered a shrug to Kishi, but he didn't really mind the indecisiveness. All that mattered to Kishi was that his brothers and sisters were safe, and if naming his weapon made Zectoll feel better, Kishi didn't mind.The young female goblin, Luz, seemed to enjoy the gift which Kishi had given her. Then again, it was less of a gift, and more of a type of insurance. It would surely be harder for her to die if she had an actual weapon, especially if she ever planned on hunting. Kinsih nodded towards the girl. "Thank you for the effort, Luz. If you succeed in finding an adhesive, I'll be sure to use it for you first!" Kishi really didn't have any expectations for the young goblin. After all, where would she even find an adhesive strong enough for what he needed? Despite this, Kishi was indeed grateful for the thought, and he made certain to craft anything she asks for extra well. After he had finished his conversation with both Luz and Stegs, Kishi returned to the crafting of his map, which was quite barren all things considered. While the cave itself was mapped out quite well, the only part of the outside of the cave that had been mapped with any clarity was the path that Isurta and Xaal had died. Kishi quickly made his way back towards the small corner that was his home, and placed the stone dagger he carved into the small crevice of the wall. After doing so, he simply sat and looked around his small area, observing all the small trinkets that he had gathered. Compared to many of the other goblins, he owned far more than them... Kishi laid on the wolf pelt, warming himself against the cold that the rain had brought. Kishi's thoughts soon returned to the pit and moat he planned to construct, and he quickly went to work constructing a shovel. Using a flat stone as a blade and another of the sticks as a shaft, Kishi quickly tied his new creation together and held it in the air. ...Before it came undone almost immediatly. Kishi really needed an adhesive, and badly. Without it, anything beyond the most basic of tools was impossible. Kishi laid back on his pelt, clutching the stick in his hand and staring at it for several seconds. As he did, he remembered the struggles he had been through. The animals he had hunted, the anger he felt towards the monsters, and how difficult it was to protect his kind. The cold, the raw meat... Then, like a lighting bolt, inspiration struck him. Quickly jumping to his feet, Kishi began to carve away at the stick with his knife, pulling off strands of bark as he did so. He nearly clipped his thumb twice, but in the end, he had a small collection of wood shavings and a sharpened piece of along with it. Not wasting any time, Kishi ran throughout the entire cavern, searching for a larger branch. After nearly 30 minutes of searching, Kishi finally found his prize, wedged near the back of the cavern. Quickly removing it, Kishi quickly made his way back to his collection of materials, carving a small groove into the larger branch as he did so. After making his way back, Kishi quickly laid the larger branch on the ground and grabbed the sharpened stick. Kishi lightly placed the small amount of shavings and strips of wood into the groove. After preparing himself, Kishi rapidly moved the stick between the groove, moving as fast as possible. In Kishi's mind, this told him that it would give him something he didn't even know of, a light that protected those who knew to use it, and harmed the ignorant. Kishi tried to make fire. In Kishi's mind, doubt began to rise. He didn't even know what fire looked like, and surely it couldn't be strong if it was merely made by rubbing sticks together. Besides, the way he moved was awkward and without any sense of rhythm... But his sense hasn't been wrong before, and Kishi was willing to risk it. At it's worst, Kishi would come out of this with a few splinters, blisters, and a hurt pride. @Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Shiba 4 Winds Grandpa sighed a bit but smiled as the young one asked him to teach him how to make leather bags out of the skin of the rabbit and wolf. "Okay but this it the last question you get to ask for the day. To start off with you need to...... and then the goblin went on explaining how to treat the skin and how to connect the leather together and so force showing him how to make a basic bag. Goblin Lomen has learned: Crafting the goblin now knows how to make basic leather items. --- @El Noche@Duthguy The two goblins one a brute force fighter and another goblin somewhat secretive yet small. They both introduced themselves to each other and the question is will they become brothers or will they resent each other. Soon it was Stegs who came over to see the so called mantled one by Zectoll and asking him to help him perform a task. Then Skubli said that because he survived the night outside the cave that he could handle danger. This statement was something that one wouldn't expect from someone so small but he would be dead if he was lying. --- -FireStarter- The goblin kishi was thinking alone on top of his pelt when he had an epiphany he then went work grabbing shavings of wood and when he gathered his materials he started to rub two sticks together on a groove. After a while it almost seemed like his plan was in vain but then smoke started to rise from the groove. He kept rubbing when he thought their was hope and after another few precious moments a small flame appeared. He followed his idea and then started to blow on the small flame trying to get it started and before long Kishi did it flame appeared. Goblin kishi was no longer just the crafter he was then the fire starter. Goblin Kishi: The goblin has learned Fire crafting the goblin now learned the secret of creating fire! Goblin Kishi has also earned the title The Fire Starter</s> <\|message\|>Luz Luz Luz then stopped for a second to answer him. "Sure I'll help you as soon as your ready." She told Steg before strap her new spear on her back and following him to Skubli who was pretty much bragging about sleeping out the cave once. "Wow that should pretty brave." Luz said sounding proud of him. "I have to try that sometime." Luz told them so casually. Yes Luz knew the risks and yet she wanted the bragging right.</s>	<\|message\|>Stegs Stegs was impressed to hear that Skubli survived a night in the forest, and a bit jealous. What he knew about the forest was despite the dangers a lot more to his liking, but he doubted he could handle being out there in the darkness by himself, the now fully healed semi-selfinflicted injury he received on his first and so far only hunt was proof of that. He decided to focus on other things like the berries. He might not be cut out to be a hunter with but any luck he might have a future making medicine and maybe growing food other than meat. When he passed Grandpa Stegs heard the older goblin say that that was the last question he was gonna answer for his current pupil. Seeing his change he collected al the berries he had collected the other day along with the flower petal and headed over to their tribe's elder, in order to both ask his own question and hopefully as a bonus pick up a few bits from the current lesson.</s>
<\|description\|>Kishi. Gender: Male. Appearance: Kishi is taller than the average goblin, standing at an impressive 4 foot 3 inches. He has a thick head of oily black hair and currently wears a tattered loincloth. His eyes are lime green, which are the same color as his skin. Kishi has a hooked nose, which shares a striking similarity to a beak. He stands up straight and has a very civilized air about him. Personality: Kishi is warm and kind, always ready to lend a hand. He does not share anything personal unless people ask and he doesn't want to bother anyone with his problems. Kishi has a strong sense of morals, refusing to do anything that is unhonorable or hurts innocent people. He has a strong sense of justice, and will protect those who are weaker than him. Kishi has a distaste for those who would lie or cheat him, but his sense of justice extends to his enemies as well. Enemies who promise to change their ways are almost always guaranteed to avoid his wrath, which can backfire easily. He also has an obsession over a small rock he found, constantly feeling for it and checking to make sure it is safe. The rock is light blue, smooth, and not magical in any way. He would fly into a rage and use everything he has available to get it back if he ever lost it. He also is obsessed about making things as efficient as possible. Past Life History: Kishi was once known as Dana White, future engineer and plane crash survivor. As a child, Dana played in the forest with a wooden sword and studied to enter a good university. At the age of 18, he graduated top of his class, and it was clear that he was on the path towards greatness. Unfortunately, on the flight to his new university, his plane crashed on a remote island, killing everyone but himself. He spent the next 6 years fighting to stay alive. He rarely wasted anything he found, making all of his weapons and tools. The only reason he died was because of a particularly cruel winter. The next time he opened his eyes, he was much smaller and had no memory of his past life. Starting Skill: Kishi is talented at crafting. Other: Kishi is right-handed and has a light hoarding problem. I'm a mighty goblin. EXP: 68 Inventory: Boar Tusk Halberd (Equipped), Kishi's Stone, Horned rabbit skeleton, 28 Rabbit Teeth, Loincloth (Equipped), Sharpened Stone Blade, Small Rabbit Horn, wolf pelt. Acquired Skills: Escape: The ability to escape from a stronger opponent more easily. Precise Strike: The ability to aim a strike at a vulnerable point, ignoring enemy armor. Intimidation: The ability to display a strong front and force the weaker creatures to back down. Depending on evolution can cause paralysis in weaker creatures Charge: Causes major damage to the enemy. Requires the user to be moving at max speed and has a high chance of missing. Trap-Making Beginner: Can create pit traps and snares. Fire Crafting: The secret of creating fire. Titles: The Fire Starter Blessings: Honor the Fallen: Higher affinity with death. Curses: Chained Grief: Weakness to psychological effects and a constant fear of death. Allows easier transition into the Death or Hooded class.</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - @Heyitsjiwon @Jangel13 --- As Stegs floundered about the fish, Skubli took a more subtle approach. He grabbed a few smooth river stones and began stalking his prey. Once they swam near to Lothar, the runt threw the stone into the air and submerged himself in the water. He immediately swum at the fish, scaring it away from him. As the aquatic prey fled, the stone landed in the stream where Skubli had thrown it. It landed on the other side of the fish, trapping it between the stone and Skubli. Scared by both disturbances, the fish fled in the general direction that Skubli desired, however he could never seem to get it to work as he wanted, and as a result Lothar was not provided with very many targets. While swimming beneath the calm waters, Skubli heard a voice speaking above the waters. It was distorted through the waves, but before Skubli could surface, a brilliant glow entered the waters. Startled by the new development, Skubli dove to the bottom of the stream and hid himself within the rocks. Peering out, he could see a line of rainbow-fluorescent fish swimming through the waters, displaying a dazzling light that left Skubli awestruck. After what seemed to be an eternity, Skubli felt pain in his chest as he hadn't had any air to breath. Forcing himself to ignore his trepidation towards the new creatures, Skubli surfaced, inhaling deeply as he broke the water. After a small bout of coughing, he turned to the other Goblins, who also watched the fish. "What are they?" Skubli couldn't keep a small quiver out of his voice, however he doubted the others noticed.</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen --- Lomen looked at Grandpa Goblin and nodded his head to show acknowledgement of the wisdom. He began picking out the yellow berries from the bunch he had gathered on his way home and sat down next to Grandpa goblin. Lomen presented the Alpha horned rabbit body and bowed one his hands and knees. "I know it is a lot to ask after being given advice about the berries, but please teach me how to skin this rabbit." In his previous life, Lomen had never before skinned an animal and as such had no experience with it. If he was to survive, it would be best to collect all he could from the area around him, be it wisdom, food, or materials. In order to become stronger and acquire more skills, Lomen believed that he would have to make as many good connections with those that are alive in the clan and strive to better himself as much as possible every day.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs @Jangel13 @Heyitsjiwon --- While the rainbow colored fish were pretty, and their scales would no doubt be useful for making jewelry if they ever felt like it, the setting sun made Stegs nervous. Wanting to avoid any more injuries to himself and any injuries at all to the other two he wondered if they should back to the cave. Staying out at night might be doable after they had gotten stronger. Besides though he hadn't taken the time to see how many fish Lothar had speared he was sure it would be enough to convince Grandpa to look at his injury and hopefully leave some food over for themselves. If it wasn't Stegs would try and make sure the other two at least would have something to eat since they went through all this trouble on his suggestion. "Don't know, pretty though. Still it might be better to go back."</s> <\|message\|>Shiba 4 Winds -how to skin- Grandpa goblin was relaxing against the wall of the cave until he soon saw the little one known as Lomen come over and bowed before presenting him with an alpha horned rabbit. Grandpa had to admit he was a little impressed that he was able to catch an alpha on his first day out hunting. He then asked about how to properly skin a rabbit and while he was opposed to teaching more then the essentials he decided he would be nice for a price. Grandpa went and grabbed a few berries from the little one and said "Nothing comes free" he said simply before he took the rabbit and put it on the ground to show him how to properly skin the rabbit. When he was done he presented the finished skin to the goblin. skill gained Lesser Skinning</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen --- Lomen paid intent attention to the skinning and learned the skill to do so. After a few moments of milling over what to do with the pelt, Lomen ripped the right hind leg and sat next to Grandpa Goblin. He then offered the hind leg to Grandpa Goblin and started eating. Mind telling a young goblin more about this world? In truth he wanted to know more about the monsters and possible ways to acquire abilities. Though after a good first day hunting, he would just be happy to have a regular conversation. Grandpa Goblin was wise due to being alive longer and would be a wealth of knowledge. For a moment Lomen pondered what morals he should follow in this life and decided that would be done later, as of now he was a bit tired. He resolved to figure out a few morals before heading out tomorrow. If anything, it would be better to live a short life true to himself rather than regret a long life of mistakes so finding out morals was a must. Satisfied with his thoughts, Lomen returned his full attention to Grandpa Goblin, still offering the leg and eating the rest of the alpha horned rabbit.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs @December@Heyitsjiwon --- As pretty as those fish looked both Stegs and Skubli had decided they wanted to head back to the cave. While not too sure about what Lothar wanted Stegs found a two to one majority enough to act on and headed back to the shore to grab the remains of the Horned Rabbit, which he wanted to bring back as proof of a successful hunt in case their third member either refused to come along or had failed to catch any of the fish.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba @December@Heyitsjiwon -On their way back- The three goblins had agreed to head back to their cave and be ready for the next day instead of staying out after dark. Their decision was wise but they will still think about those beautiful fish that's shined brighter then anything they have ever seen. As they left they could hear the growl of a bear thankfully the fish was distracting them allowing them to easily slip away from the bear as it hunted for its fish dinner. --- 4 Winds -The wise Goblin- Grandpa goblin watched as the young goblin gave him a piece of the young ones kills and he had to admit that he was intrigued this young one not only gave him food but wanted him to teach her about the world around them. He had to admit that it was odd considering the previous generations didn't take his wisdom seriously of course that lead to many death but it was different. He took the hind leg the young one offered then started to think about what to tell the young one. If anything he was a caretaker and only left the cave in his younger years but he could tell him a bit more about what was waiting for him on the outside. "Seems only fair to tell you a bit since you gave me part of your kill. I will tell you about what you can expect to find out their in the world. To begin with you have these rabbits to kill they are the easiest to kill yet some goblins never survive their first hunt with one let alone against an alpha like this one. Be mindful of one thing though the farther you travel from this cave the more dangerous creatures you will find that can easily kill you if your not strong enough to handle the fight. If nothing else don't forget this Prepare for every eventuality anything can happen and anything can kill you if your not careful" he warned thinking that would be enough in exchange for the meal but he wouldn't mind talking a bit more. So rarely does he have one of the young ones so interested in his wisdom.</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen --- Lomen listened eagerly and even if no specifics were given, Grandpa goblin still gave him sound advice that would help him stay alive. " Prepare for every eventuality " This specifically resonated within him and as such, would make sure to prepare what he could for himself before leaving the cave for a hunt in the future. " Thank you Elder, I will remember your words. Rest easy. I am going to sleep now and will see you in the morning. " With that Lomen finished the rest of his rabbit and went to a nice spot near the wall. He put the pelt under his head like a pillow and laid the shield over his torso to act like a blanket. As he tried to sleep he milled over the rabbit's movements and ways of fighting them, since it would most certainly be a good source of food in the days to come.</s>	<\|message\|>Kishi. Things were going amazingly. Kishi had three kills under his belt, two new friends, and plenty of supplies for his tinkering. Nothing felt like it could go wrong. This was without a doubt, the happiest moment in Kishis' short life. The sun was slowly setting, the trees blew in the wind, and a faint metallic scent followed the strong gale. A low, barely audible growl also roes to meet his ears. Before he could even register what had occurred, Isurta's neck was being dug into by some furry creature's fangs, blood squirting to stain the already crimson grass. They then began to consume the comparatively small rodent that the goblins had all felled earlier. Kishi didn't even have time to scream, before his legs dragged him away from the horrible event. Some primal, unconscious thing had awoken inside him, and it had only a single goal in mind. Survival --- By the time Kishi returned to the mouth of the cave, the sun had just disappeared down the horizon, and his legs had finally given out. He had run for what felt like an eternity, and his legs refused to hold his small weight any longer. He sighed in relief, as the voice in his head, a once helpful and intellectual entity, ringed out in his head. Wolf Kishi laid in astonishment at the entrance of his home, before breaking out into a chuckle. This soon evolved into a howling laughter, fueled by a horrible and all encompassing sense of dread. Just as abruptly as it began, however, it ceased. Xaal was no where in sight. --- Kishi made his way back to his corner of the cave, directly next to the hole in the wall where he had stored his spears. He sluggishly tied the horn of his rabbit onto the tip of his spear, storing the old head into the hole apathetically. He was too tired to make anything right now. He slowly set to work, searching for a large stone. He had no idea why, but something told him that this was the right thing to do.</s>
<\|description\|>Lomen Gender: Male Appearance: A notable physical difference is that he has a somewhat thinner build than most of his kin. as a result, his spine protrudes out almost like spikes lining his back. Other than that his skin and eyes have a medium grey tint similar to a storm cloud. Personality: Lomen prefers to be a hard worker and will genuinely put effort into his goals. For the most part he is easygoing, but not the best when it comes to social niceties, coming off as rather blunt. Lomen doesn't mind working alone, but enjoys relaxing with others as he would feel lonely without some social time. He prefers the truth over dancing around questions and trust with people over time. Where he is open to meeting and depending on others, he prefers to have the ability to be self reliant. He believes this allows him to not only be free to do what he believes is right, but also to help those around him without dragging anyone down. Past Life History: Lomen grew up in a healthy family that always found pride in working a shipping company. Because of this, Lomen gained a wealth of stamina and resistance to fatigue as he continuously worked for his future benefit. Although this didn't sit well with his elder brother. Due to the strenuous work, his elder brother rebelled against their parents time and time again, usually resulting in physical punishment. After years of it, he ran away into the streets of their hometown. Lomen was concerned for who he considered his only friend at the time and searched through their city till he found his brother. It was a dark alleyway and his brother occupied a dumpster next to a busy road. Lomen desperately tried to bring his brother back home, but in the process was knocked away by his brother into the street. The last thing he remembers is looking up into the light of a big rig before everything turned dark. Skill: - Increased endurance: Stage. 1: Is a hard worker and has the mental fortitude to continue on even when exhausted. - Heavy strike: stage. 2: Able to cause damage to weak armors like leather. - Gathering: stage. 1 - Lesser Skinning: stage. 1 - Evasion: stage. 1: Has a higher understanding of strikes can better avoid deadly attacks - Challenge: Stage. 1: This move is used when the goblin creates a battle cry roaring at the opponent and makes the enemy focus solely on him. While this may seem like a dangerous move if used correctly can create a perfect ambush as being bait. -Crafting Stage. 1: The goblin now knows how to make basic leather items. - All or nothing: Stage. 1: This move can only be used when the goblin is close to loosing a fight this skill increases his strike power immensely for his next strike against his enemy, however if the attack should miss or does not connect the goblin will loose all the strength to fight. - Tactician Stage. 1: This goblin learned throughout his fight how to strike and where to strike when to strike. This skill is a passive skill allowing the goblin to analyze the opponents movement and can calculate attacks accordingly. This skill can be enhanced multiple times till the goblin is a strategic genius. - Shrine to the fallen the goblin learned how to create a shrine to honor the goddess of death and give tribute to her. Inventory - Bark Shield - Branch - Alpha Medium Horn - Small leatehr bag - Black wolf short/armor - Stamp boar tusk Blessings - Honor the fallen Has learned to honor those that die, as a result gains a higher affinity with death - Homage to the Cycle This blessing is gives the goblin a better understanding of the food chain and as such is alerted when an animal that could eat them is nearby. - Notice from the earth the goblin has learned the name of the god of earth and can identify usable metals and rocks - Notice from the hunter the goblin has learned the name of the god of the hunt and can upgrade their hunting skills faster - Notice from the Dead one the goblin has learned the name of the god of death and can perform proper burial services - Deaths favor The goblin has seen the burial of death and performed it himself properly. The goddess of death has taken notice and can now be contacted if given proper tribute. Curses - Chained Grief Chained grief now follows the goblins and death is now a permanent fear in their minds: Each are weaker to psychological attacks but now understand death better and as such gain more influence into joining the Death or Hooded class Other: I'm a Mighty Goblin Lomen always enjoyed the light, thunder, and wind of storms EXP: 65</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Lomen gave his approval, and then began to speak with Grandfather about something. Kishi was too preoccupied with traveling around the cave, delivering the good news of the boar and returned to find Lomen giving out the boar to all of the inhabitants of the cave. As Kishi noticed that Lomen was giving the meat to the new-born and less-able first, he smiled. After all, those were the people who deserved it most, and Kishi knew how dangerous it could be out in the wilderness. For those that could not brave it, all that remained were bugs that scattered across the cavern floor, and the philanthropy of the stronger inhabitants. Kishi felt sick as he reached his small corner of the cave. The large rock, which he had planned to use for the gravestone of his fallen companions, lied in wait for his return. The stone stood as a monument. It represented the struggle he has so far overcome for survival, and the sacrifice that he has already made, even in his few days of life. His companions were in the ground, he knew that. He was the one to bury them. The fear of death had implanted himself in that moment, but it was no longer the dominatrix of his mind. That title was currently claimed by a silent, almost serene sense of peace. He had overcome the challenges thus far. He was strong. Using the newly upgraded halberd at his disposal, he carved into the large rock. Kishi Kishi bent down and attempted to remove the pelt of his rabbit corpse cleanly. Even if he failed, he would still to devour the meat that stuck to it's bones. That would sate the hunger he had developed after felling the great boar. Kishi planned to ask for the date of his birth from either Grandfather, or one of the elder goblins. After all, what kind of gravestone doesn't have a birth date? Kishi laid down on the cold floor, and began to contemplate using a pelt to keep his body warm on these cold nights. Kishi's eyes closed, and he entered into a dreamless slumber. --- The sound of light tapping and a chill awoke Kishi the next morning. The cavern was far colder than it had been the previous night, and the humidity was at least twice as high. A soft pitter-patter echoed throughout the confines of the cave, and a walk to the enterance revealed what appeared to be a torrent of some substance was raining down from the heavens themselves! Kishi reached for his spear, believing a threat has posed itself to the cave, before a sense of calm passed over him. This was normal. The voice rung out throughout his mind, presenting the young goblin with information. Rain. Grandfather's voice soon pierced the cavern, and alerted the inhabitants if the dangers that the outside proposed. Kishi, following the words of his elder, began to make way towards the goblin, before Lomen began a conversation with the wise one. Kishi, deciding that butting in would be rude, simply moved to one of the goblins who was fully grown already. Having spotted one who looked fairly old, Kishi walked up to him and voiced his question. "Excuse me, brother, but do you know what day it is? I need the information, and grandfather is busy." As soon as the request ended, however, a goblin with bright green skin that almost burned the eyes walked up to Kishi, carrying a single blue petal. The goblin, whom Kishi had finally realized was named Brother Stegs, seemed to want Kishi's input on the matter. Of course, Kishi knew he had a slight reputation in the cavern. He was the person who created arguably the strongest weapon in the entire cave, and he also supplied equipment to several goblins. But top think that another one of his kind would come to him in search of aid was somewhat... questionable. Regardless, the goblin was asking a favor, and Kishi would, if nothing else, cement his position in the cavern as a creator if he agreed. Kishi softly took the petal into his own hands, examining every angle he could. "Hmm... If we attached it to something like gloves, it would provide for a much better grip on items. Or, we could do the same with a buckler or shield, creating a weapon as well as a defensive device. If we had enough, we would easily be capable of creating traps of the material that would be able to trap smaller prey in it's barbs... This is all theoretical, of course. As of now, we could probably make a bag or storage container, but for anything else I mentioned, we would need a proper adhesive." Kishi finished the quick listing, and returned to his normal breathing. The trap he had mentioned before would be useful for small prey, and would definitely be easier to create and maintain than a pitfall, but a pitfall could catch much largere prey and was theoretically a permanent trap. You needed to simply dig a very large hole, place spike sticks or stones on the bottom, and layer over it with weak sticks and leaves. Then, you simply replace the sticks, covering, and bait whenever you catch anything, and voila; a somewhat sustainable supply of meat. Of course, a snare would also suffice for small prey, but i offered the worst of both worlds, requiring both a constant maintenance, and also the need to replace bait. Kishi handed the petal back to the young goblin, before making another remark. "Tomorrow, I plan to begin construction on a pit trap. As such, I will be unable to accompany you on your retrieval for the petals. But, as long as you bring me the necessary supplies, I can build you anything you wish. Just remember: to build anything grand, we will need a far more advanced adhesive than what I am currently in possession of-" Kishi stresses this statement by pointing out the dingy cloth which held the boar tusk to his staff. "Until then, I am fairly limited in my options. I apologize again, brother Stegs." After having several more seconds of idle chitchat, Kishi turns to a random wall of the cavern, both carving his stone spear head into a dagger, and also creating a basic outline for his long-term plan of protection, an idea originally sparked from the rain itself: A moat. @Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Shiba 4 Winds Knowledge- Grandfather was sitting on a rock nearby when he saw the young one come over giving him a piece of meat that was still left over from last night and he accepted taking small bites to make it last longer. He soon heard his request wanting to know about everything he had to admit he was happy seeing one so thirsty for knowledge at such a young age. He needed to be careful because otherwise this young pup might become even wiser then him and that made him laugh a bit not at the idea of being dethroned but at the idea that he could leave someone with his knowledge after all he knew he was old. Grandpa leaned back to think on his questions before he would answer them in order. "Young one their is no such thing as to much knowledge so long as I am fed I will give you young ones advice for a long while. So first about the gods, I know of them but I am no priest. Their is first Agrithor the god of the earth he is the one who give us rain, sunlight, and the plants that flourish outside this cave he is benevolent god and one that many alchemists follow for he supplies the ingredients for their potions. Second is Sargosa god of the hunt he is actually seen as a large beast though which I don't know he is the one that hunters pray to for he dictates how fruitful the hunt may be and if one survives against a stronger predator. He is a wild god and does not seem as benevolent or outwardly vengeful. Then finally their is Izanami the goddess of death she is said to be dressed in black rags and wears a white mask that clashes with her dark form they say its because underneath is a face that would kill you if you weren't already dead. She resides over those that pass on and she is the one who decides who goes when. Their are more gods im sure but those are the one 3 I know by both name and what they hold dominion over. He said with a sigh thinking about how death took the young ones Isurta and Xaal far to soon but their was no use crying about it. goblin Lomen gained blessings: * Notice from the earth the goblin has learned the name of the god of earth and can identify usable metals and rocks * notice from the hunter the goblin has learned the name of the god of the hunt and can upgrade their hunting skills faster * Notice from the Dead one the goblin has learned the name of the god of death and can perform proper burial services --- Noche The goblin as he worked on the brand new weaponry he later dubbed fist fangs he was then given knowledge that would no doubt help him. As he put the new weapons on his fist he was then bombarded with unknown knowledge that showed him punches and kicks of unarmed combat. Although if this was because of his mindset making him into a fiercer hunter or if the god of the hunt took an interest in the goblin one couldn't tell. Once the knowledge was gone he was then able to understand how to throw a proper punch with his new weapons. Goblin Zectoll learned: crafting beginner, Also learned unarmed fighting beginner the goblin has learned how to use his fist to throw a jab properly more knowledge is needed to be a proper unarmed fighter --- @Duoya As the goblins discussed how to properly use the petals they soon got onto the subject of traps and this knowledge was given before the proper skill was gained. Goblin Stegs and kishi: Both have learned Trap making beginner with any good hunter their exists the need to create better way to hunt without expending the energy to go out everyday to do so. They have learned how to make pit fall traps and snares to hunt both large and small animals.</s>	<\|message\|>Lomen Lomen listened with intent and repeated the names of the gods and what they reigned over. After a few moments of repeating the names and locking them into his memory, Lomen focused back onto Grandpa Goblin and munched a bit on the bones he had brought over. "Then what of the beasts of this world? I have only seen the rabbit, wolf, and boar so far but there must be more. What are these creatures and are there any that are much more dangerous than the common breed?" Lomen remembered a similar question being asked by Zectoll and had been pondering what the answer could be. Hopefully Grandpa Goblin could enlighten him. As he thought this he looked around and saw a new Goblin talking with Kishi and Zectoll practicing with some fanged gloves. Lomen smiled. "It is good to see the others making progress." The smile quickly faded as he realized he hadn't made anything for himself yet and had only what was given to him by his hunts and Agrithor the god of the earth. With that small point hitting home, he refocused again onto Grandpa Goblin with eyes hungry for Knowledge.</s>
<\|description\|>Zectoll Gender: Male Appearance: Zectoll is a goblin of average height and build. What distinguishes him from his brethren is peculiarly large and pointy ears, and his large wide mouth filled with gleaming white teeth. Zectoll almost always has a self amused grin on his face. Personality: Zectoll is a goblin who gives off the appearance of being calm, collected, and self amused. Zectoll does not like to show mental emotional weakness, dealing with tragedy and loss with dark humor. Zectoll is highly driven and disciplined when it comes to accomplishing the goals that he has set for himself. It is in the furtherance of these goals that the calm collected aspect of Zectoll's personality gives way to burning passion. In times of challenge or conflict Zectoll often gets fired up into a frenzy, giving his all to the task at hand. He enjoys undertaking a mighty challenge, not only for material rewards but also the glory of overcoming the odds. For Zectoll there is no right or wrong, there is only victory or defeat. All things are permitted in the pursuit of victory, save betraying his friends and family. Zectoll is a very loyal to those he calls friends, and will go to great lengths to help them. To him, there is little point in acquiring wealth and glory if there is no one to share and revel in it with. Past Life History: In his past life Zectoll was a man known as Leon Tracy, also known as Lucky Ace. He grew up a poor street urchin, getting by from pick pocketing, thievery, and shell games. As he grew older he became proficient in many card tricks, cons, and various other games gamblers play. Thus he went through life as a professional gambler, cheating his way into the pockets of unsuspecting marks. Eventually he and his friends put together a thriving business with all their ill gotten cash. Ace would meet his demise from alcohol poisoning during a night of binge drinking in celebration of the success he and his friends had found in their business ventures. Birth Skill: Physical Adroitness - Zectoll is quick and skillful in body, possessing a great measure of readiness and grace in physical activity; especially in skill and ease in using the hands. Acquired Skills Savage Strike: a very violent attack, savage strike not only causes heavy damage to the target but can scare the enemies around them. At higher levels can cause fear from other enemies. Predator Stance:the predetor stance is a permanent ability that can be switched on or off by the goblin. The stance gives the goblin muffled movement and ambush bonus when not detected before attacking. Much like a predator that silently gets closer to its prey before it strikes with ferocity. unarmed fighting beginner: the goblin has learned how to use his fist to throw a jab properly more knowledge is needed to be a proper unarmed fighter crafting beginner Adrenaline Surge! This goblin grinning widely and using superior speed and power to win against his opponent learned this enhancement skill. This skill can only be used when the goblin is fighting an opponent equal or stronger them himself, Adrenaline surge allows this goblin to enhance his speed and his strength incredibly. However once the fight is finished the goblin will automatically have his adrenaline surge stop forcing him to feel every ache and pain he experienced till its conclusion. CounterstrikeThis skill was learned when the goblin was able to strike his opponent despite the attack that was used against him by his opponent. This skill is a passive skill allowing the goblin to judge how he can attack his enemy while avoiding the full force of his opponents attack. Blessings -Honor the fallen Has learned to honor those that die, as a result gains a higher affinity with death Curses -Chain of Grief Chained grief now follows the goblins and death is now a permanent fear in their minds: Each are weaker to psychological attacks but now understand death better and as such gain more influence into joining the Death or Hooded class Other: Zectoll has a great fondness for organ meat, for it's spongy texture. Zectoll also has a great fondness of blood, for it's metallitc taste and deep red luster. Equipment -Stone Spear -Alpha Rabbit Horn -Alpha Rabbit pelt -Dirty Loincloth -Fist Fang - A primitive knuckle weapon made from cloth and wolf bones. I am a mighty Goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen @El Noche@Duoya@December@Heyitsjiwon --- Lomen allowed for the service to finish before approaching each make-ship gravestone and getting onto his knees to send a short personal prayer for each of them. He spend a good few minutes looking at the stones and decided to give thanks to those who were almighty. "For the gods above and below, thank you. I thank you for this chance at life and to live as free as my will can allow. I thank you for the water, the earth, the warmth of light, the cool of shade, and the wind from the sky. I thank you for your lessons of the danger and rewards I have seen thus far. Above all else, thank you all for creating this world I live in. Please do guide me so that I may lead my allies into places of well being and to live a truthful life. I hope to make you proud." When he finished his thanks to the gods above, he felt refreshed mentally. He wasn't sure if they truly existed, but it felt like a good thing to do in order to remind himself that he indeed is astonishingly lucky to have this life when two others had it snatched away before even a week alive. With that finished, he took a moment to stretch out and get ready for the hunt. He wore the pelt of the rabbit over his chest, as to cover some of his upper front and back. Some protection is better than nothing, even if it is only a pelt. Standing up, Lomen went to the entrance of the cave and looked back in at the optimistic goblin. "Just be careful not to get impaled by a horned rabbit. They move pretty fast. I am going to head out as well, you and anyone else willing to hunt are welcome to join me." Lomen did not mind having to hunt alone, but it would be nice to have someone to help. If anything it increased his chances of survival as well as the other goblins.</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Numerous hours were spent, scouring the cave for just the appropriate stone. Kishi planned to build a similar structure for Xaal if he did not return by tomorrow, but the search compelled him to find the stone. He clutched his own stone in his hands, just as he found a stone, roughly half his height. The rock he had found weighed nearly as much as he did, and it too multiple hours to drag it back to his corner of the cavern. Just as he managed to pull it there, he quickly fell asleep, not even eating the rabbit he had caught that night. It felt like he had just closed his eyes when Grandpa began to call all the goblins to him. Kishi rose groggily, slolwly limping his way towards the cave mouth. Standing before him, Grandpa and the other goblins were surrounding a rock with strange lettering. Despite never learning to read, Kishi knew what they meant. Xaal had not returned last night. The ramblings of Grandpa passed through Kishi's mind, not even registering properly. As soon as the speech was over, Kishi quickly turned and walked away. He wasn't going to stay there. Not when it was his fault that they died in the first place. If he wasn't such a coward, if he didn't run, maybe he could have saved them. Even if he couldn't, at least he wouldn't need to live with this guilt. Kishi slowly made it back to his corner, leaning against the now useless rock. Tears threatened to erupt from his face, and he gripped his spear until his knuckles turned white. This wasn't right. He wasn't going to let them go. He was going to kill those damn monsters and, at the very least, get whatever was left of the two goblins. As he made this resolution, the weakest goblin in the cave... Walked up to him? "Goblin Kishi, strongest of the cave. The one who has seen death with his own eyes. The one who has killed yet has not been killed. Show me what you have learned of life and death, for on this day, I ZECTOLL! will be your hunting party." Kishi slowly began to get up, and faked a smile. "Of course I will show you! However... I will decide where we go to hunt. After all, you have never been outside before right, Brother Zectoll? Here, this is yours now." Kishi tossed the stone spear, the one that had never been used, towards the goblin. ,@December,@Jangel13,@The 4 Winds,@Duthguy,@El Noche</s>	<\|message\|>Zectoll "Of course I will show you! However... I will decide where we go to hunt. After all, you have never been outside before right, Brother Zectoll? Here, this is yours now." Kishi tossed the stone spear, the one that had never been used, towards the goblin. Instinctively Zectoll raised one hand into air, letting the spear fall firmly into his hand. He looked at the weapon with glee holding it awkwardly in his hands. The conception of such a weapon was beyond him and he was unsure of its direct applications and how best to use it. He slowly began twirling the spear in his hands, slowly transitioning from left to right to spinning it above his head. He ended the maneuver with the spear point facing outwards with his feet planted in a wide stance. Yes, never have I been outside the cave, nor stood upright for more than twenty minutes. But I am ready now...Brother Kishi? Zectoll had spent little time speaking with the other Goblins, the convention of referencing each other by brother and sister was rather odd. Thank you for this opportunity. I will follow where ever you lead. I will wait for you at the mouth of the cave when you are ready. Zectoll bowed, and then walked to the mouth of the cave, head held high, spinning and twirling the spear like a baton. "Just be careful not to get impaled by a horned rabbit. They move pretty fast. I am going to head out as well, you and anyone else willing to hunt are welcome to join me." Zectoll stopped playing with his new spear to regard the goblin who had just addressed him. A look of admiration appearing on his face as he examined the Goblin's equipment, and most notably the pelt the goblin wore on his chest. You have tasted of death as well, like Goblin Kishi. Horned rabbits are fierce opponent yes, Goblin Lomen? Zectoll said as he rubbed his chin. Impalement, Zectoll inquired about the word in his head? Zectoll took his spear and performed a swift jab into the air. Zectoll thinks that it is the horned rabbit who should worry about being impaled Zectoll said to Lomen with a sly grin on his face. I am waiting on Goblin Kishi, he agreed to teach one such as I what he has learned of life and death. You also seem to have knowledge of life and death. Would you join our party as well? Zectoll said to Lomen, an eager grin splayed across his face.</s>
<\|description\|>Zectoll Gender: Male Appearance: Zectoll is a goblin of average height and build. What distinguishes him from his brethren is peculiarly large and pointy ears, and his large wide mouth filled with gleaming white teeth. Zectoll almost always has a self amused grin on his face. Personality: Zectoll is a goblin who gives off the appearance of being calm, collected, and self amused. Zectoll does not like to show mental emotional weakness, dealing with tragedy and loss with dark humor. Zectoll is highly driven and disciplined when it comes to accomplishing the goals that he has set for himself. It is in the furtherance of these goals that the calm collected aspect of Zectoll's personality gives way to burning passion. In times of challenge or conflict Zectoll often gets fired up into a frenzy, giving his all to the task at hand. He enjoys undertaking a mighty challenge, not only for material rewards but also the glory of overcoming the odds. For Zectoll there is no right or wrong, there is only victory or defeat. All things are permitted in the pursuit of victory, save betraying his friends and family. Zectoll is a very loyal to those he calls friends, and will go to great lengths to help them. To him, there is little point in acquiring wealth and glory if there is no one to share and revel in it with. Past Life History: In his past life Zectoll was a man known as Leon Tracy, also known as Lucky Ace. He grew up a poor street urchin, getting by from pick pocketing, thievery, and shell games. As he grew older he became proficient in many card tricks, cons, and various other games gamblers play. Thus he went through life as a professional gambler, cheating his way into the pockets of unsuspecting marks. Eventually he and his friends put together a thriving business with all their ill gotten cash. Ace would meet his demise from alcohol poisoning during a night of binge drinking in celebration of the success he and his friends had found in their business ventures. Birth Skill: Physical Adroitness - Zectoll is quick and skillful in body, possessing a great measure of readiness and grace in physical activity; especially in skill and ease in using the hands. Acquired Skills Savage Strike: a very violent attack, savage strike not only causes heavy damage to the target but can scare the enemies around them. At higher levels can cause fear from other enemies. Predator Stance:the predetor stance is a permanent ability that can be switched on or off by the goblin. The stance gives the goblin muffled movement and ambush bonus when not detected before attacking. Much like a predator that silently gets closer to its prey before it strikes with ferocity. unarmed fighting beginner: the goblin has learned how to use his fist to throw a jab properly more knowledge is needed to be a proper unarmed fighter crafting beginner Adrenaline Surge! This goblin grinning widely and using superior speed and power to win against his opponent learned this enhancement skill. This skill can only be used when the goblin is fighting an opponent equal or stronger them himself, Adrenaline surge allows this goblin to enhance his speed and his strength incredibly. However once the fight is finished the goblin will automatically have his adrenaline surge stop forcing him to feel every ache and pain he experienced till its conclusion. CounterstrikeThis skill was learned when the goblin was able to strike his opponent despite the attack that was used against him by his opponent. This skill is a passive skill allowing the goblin to judge how he can attack his enemy while avoiding the full force of his opponents attack. Blessings -Honor the fallen Has learned to honor those that die, as a result gains a higher affinity with death Curses -Chain of Grief Chained grief now follows the goblins and death is now a permanent fear in their minds: Each are weaker to psychological attacks but now understand death better and as such gain more influence into joining the Death or Hooded class Other: Zectoll has a great fondness for organ meat, for it's spongy texture. Zectoll also has a great fondness of blood, for it's metallitc taste and deep red luster. Equipment -Stone Spear -Alpha Rabbit Horn -Alpha Rabbit pelt -Dirty Loincloth -Fist Fang - A primitive knuckle weapon made from cloth and wolf bones. I am a mighty Goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba 4 Winds@El Noche@Duoya -Burial of the fallen: a proper send off- Grandpa looked to the three of them as they talked about whether or not they would help him and in all honestly he was old and wouldn't be able to perform it properly. He was glad to hear that both Lomen and Zectoll would help him bury their brother and sister. Honestly he was a little perplexed at Zectoll in how he said that their deaths flowed into his body allowing him to live it would explain why he thought the goblin was a still born when he didn't wake up. He wouldn't say anything about it though not wanting the young one to get a swelled head but he would keep an eye on him nevertheless. He then went back into the cave and got what they needed he grabbed two crude shovels made from dead bark and a sharpened stone wrapped together. This was meant for ceremonial purposes and not actual combat since it wasn't designed to do anything else. He then lead the two a few feet away to a much smaller cave opening that he decided to use as their burial site. He told them to start digging the graves as they started to dig Grandpa took the skeletons of the young ones feeling such sadness for having to do this to ones who never truly lived. He then started speaking in a language that none of the goblins could understand as he bowed his head as if talking to their spirits himself. Once the graves were done Grandpa then put the bodies in the graves, he then partially covered them in the dirt before he put three black flowers into the graves then covered the graves in dirt completely. "They were born, they then lived, before they died. Death tulips meant to signify death we are sorry they died so soon. he said before he finished and he started to walk back to the cave. Goblins Zectoll, Lomen, and Kishi: Curse obtained For being the ones to bury the dead and watch the service these goblins gain the curse Chained Grief=Chained grief now follows the goblins and death is now a permanent fear in their minds: Each are weaker to psychological attacks but now understand death better and as such gain more influence into joining the Death or Hooded class</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. As his companions walked over, Kishi felt confident that they would remain. Zectoll had just finished his first hunt, and surely must have been tired after consuming so much meat. Lomen seemed like the type to hunt alone, but the funeral ceremony might scare that thought from his mind. As he pondered this the sight of Xaal's mangled corpse returned to the forefront of his thoughts. The young goblin had been... difficult, but he was family dammit. Kishi slowly gazed over the corpse. Scratch marks permeated every piece of flesh that remained, and the bones that stuck out like daggers of white rock had dozens of bite marks. A once-over of Isurta proved not much difference. The thought of their demise reminded Kishi of that cold, numbing sensation he felt 4 days ago, and fear immediately leaped at his heart. Not the fear he felt with the wolves, no, he could run from that. This was a deep seeded, immense fear, a sense of helplessness. The though chilled him to the bones. The bones marked by teeth. It was at this moment the, now unfeeling and cold voice in his mind injected more information in Kishi's mind. Mortality. It was at this moment that Kishi's body became cold as ice, and Zectoll exclaimed a response. "Maybe it is just a coincidence, just a random dream. But I feel that somehow in death their strength flowed into me, and lifted whatever curse it was that afflicted me.I will do whatever I can to help in the burial ceremony. Hunting can wait, I would rather see this task to its end here and now". Kishi turned to the young goblin and, in place of rage at the comment and joy at the assistance, responded in a monotone. "Thank you, brother Zectoll. I appreciate the help." Lomen also voiced his opinion on the matter of hunting, and laid out an apology. "I agree with Zectoll. It is best to give the dead a proper burial. And Kishi, I apologize for my comment earlier. I have no idea what the experience must have been for you so I am sorry if I have offended you in any way. Grandpa, please show us the ceremony so we can give them a proper burial. After the ceremony if you two would like I can show you how to skin the wolf." "I appreciate that, Lomen. Your comment had offended me slightly, but it doesn't matter." After he said this, another thought reverberated throughout Kishi's mind. None of this matters. --- After digging the holes underneath the two stones, grandfather had begun to recite some scripture in a tongue that had no meaning to Kishi. All he thought about the entire service was his own body, cruelly twisted and mutilated in the same way these bodies had been. Grandfather placed numerous small flowers on top of their gravestones. "They were born, they then lived, before they died. Death tulips meant to signify death we are sorry they died so soon." A new fear, one that made his hunger look like a spark and his fear of the wolves akin to a flame, shined through his being like the distant sun. The fear of death. 4 Winds,@El Noche,@Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Luz Luz @Duthguy Well, the good news is Luz and Stegs survived that test. Though always had a hunch that if something goes's wrong all she would lose was a stick. They could easily replace a stick so that not a big deal. Not the problem was how they were going tog et a tool to remove it from out of the plant's reach. "How do you think we should get it out?" Luz asked Stags? Luz was more of a fighter than a farmer so maybe Stegs could take the lead as they deal with this plant issue.</s>	<\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll went about following Grandpa Goblins instructions. The ceremony was a solemn one indeed. The sadness of Grandpa Goblin shown itself clearly, and Zectoll found the sadness of the cave's patriarch to be off putting. The sight of his kin's corpses being laid to rest distrubed him. It was as if some dormant part of his mind was activated. A sense of dread and anxiety washed over the young goblin, and he felt himself becoming restless. What could he do, to ease this feeling of dread. "Become stong, become fierce, become savage." Zectoll thought to himself. If he became stronger, perhaps this pang of fear in the back of his mind would ease. After the ceremony Zectoll retired into the cave, his share of the spoils of the wolf hunt in hand. He thought to perhaps converse and wind down from the ordeals of current events with his hunting partners, only to quickly dismiss the notion. His comrades reaction to him sharing his inner personal revelations involving Xaal and Isurta were strange to him. It would seem that perhaps he had offended them in some way, though Kishi and Lomen had not shown such feelings completely. Zectoll remembered how Lomen had apologized for saying something out of turn to Kishi earlier in the day, and surmised that his two brothers held peculiar personalities. Or perhaps it was simply the stress of having family die in front of him, as well as the stress of mortal combat that produced such feelings in his brothers. Either way, Zectoll decided that He would keep his personal reflections to himself from now on. Though there was one that Zectoll felt he could freely share his inner machinations with. Zectoll gathered two hinder quarters from his stash of wolf meat and went to talk with Grandpa Goblin. In his days of torment, the only relief he felt was when Grandpa Goblin came to give him food. Now he was strong enough to acquire food on his own, food he would gladly share with the cave's patriarch. Zectoll held out his arm outstretched to Grandpa Goblin, his hand clutching a hindquarter of black wolf. For you Zectoll said as he made himself comfortable, sitting with his legs crossed, as he began to eat the opposite hind quarter of wolf. Today in our fight with the wolves, I acquired a skill. Savage Strike. The words appeared before my eyes describing the skill and it's effects. Do all goblins gain skills like this? Zectoll was eager to live, and in order to live he guessed that he would need more knowledge. Unlike Kishi, he was not naturally talented in crafting, nor had the natural wisdom that Lomen possessed. He would need to figure out what path he should take, in order to survive. I want to become strong and swift in body, like the black wolves. I doubt that they live in fear like we goblins do Zectoll said dejectedly. How can I accomplish this dream Grandpa?</s>
<\|description\|>Amelia My Character (more will follow) Titles: Duchess of Transylvania, The Elder Princess (not to her face) Race: Vampire (Elder) Age: Over 700 years old but allegedly over 800. Physical Appearance: (If you don't have an image or simply wish to add more detail) Biography: Not much is known of Amelia in her early life. Her history only accurately beginning after the founding of Nocturne, of course even then the Vampire Elders did much to rewrite history in their own image, so even then much may be conjecture or outright lies. Much of her history is told in the Annum Vampirum and the Annals of Nocturne. In the Annum Vampirum which gives a timeline of her life states she was born in the 'Old World' and was one of the original Vampire Elders. Helping lead the Vampire race and their newfound Human allies into driving back the hordes at their doors. Helping found Valeria and ultimately forming Nocturne. Personality wise Amelia is well received by Vampires and Humans alike. Being held as beautiful and just in her duties. Able to lead men into battle but not much into politicking. Caring little for legislation but will take Court cases should they fancy her. Amelia is also the only Elder to be the head of a Province. Holding the title of Duchess of Transylvania and as such is usually engaged in protecting the Eastern Frontier and prosecuting campaigns into the endless wilderness there. At the start of the role play Amelia is the reigning Vampire Elder for the last thirty-three years. Being the only female Elder her hand in marriage is much sought after, and the tale of many a minstrel. Additional Information: As the Duchess of Translyvania she has control over its military forces. The Athanatoi or Deathless Ones is the military order dedicated to her. Athanatoi Warrior If a Provincial Lord Name of Province: Transylvania Name of Provincial Capital: Drakenberg Population: 125,000 Military Size: 10,000 Military Info: The Athanatoi prefer to fight as heavy infantry, cavalry, and missile troops organized into companies of 100-250 warriors. Economy Info: Transylvania is economically mediocre with its primary industry being mines and woodworking. Most of its people outside of Drakenberg live in small hamlets and villages. History/Information of Province: Transylvania is the Easternmost province of the Realm of Nocturne. Bording Magyan to the West and Balkora to the South-West. To the East it is bordered by the Kingdom of Rumova while its Northern marches give way to the Ukrainian plains and the mutant tribes that call those lands home. Border raids and sorties from the provinces military are commonplace. Though the Mountains provide a natural barrier they are not impervious. The mountain passes must be watched and while the communities in the Carpathians are few and far between they are a hardy bunch. Often the first line of defense should a foe seek to penetrate the mountains and enter the Transylvanian basin. Transylvania's provincial capital is the City of Targon Minas (former Targu Mures), population of 28,000, and situated within the Transylvanian basin. It is from here that the provincial government reigns in Amelia's stead when she is not present. As such the Province can be seen as a Oligarchy made up of appointed officers while Amelia is away, and then transitioning into a feudal monarchy when she is present and reigning as Duchess. Transylvania, before Nocturne, was a land of vast forests giving way to snowy mountains. It's people scarce and constantly at war with the beasts of the forests. When the Elders took power and began building Valeria, they also expanded Nocturne. In the Provinces own history Amelia led an army of Nocturne into the Transylvania and drove the beasts from the forests. The people in joy crowned her as their overlord. A more fanciful story is that Amelia alone wandered into Transylvania, and following the call of a raven climbed the highest mountain. Slayed the Dragon Durogast, and with that deed the land bent to her will, proclaiming her Lord of all Transylvania.</s> <\|message\|>Hatuum That had been quick. Almost too quick. While Hatuum had come here hoping to acquire a new contract, he had been nowhere near expecting to get it so quickly. It almost seemed like that his sheer appearance was making enough of a first impression to let people think thad he'd be suited for the job. However this also added to the pressure resting on his giant shoulders now. He would have to deliver: early and decisively. Otherwise the damage to his reputation could become unrecoverable. Additionally there were other circumstances that gave this contract the potential to be one of the most important and most special of his entire career. The fact that one of his clients was one of the three elders, for example. Hell given that Amelia was standing so close to him he suddenly felt quite ashamed of himself. Was he behaving correctly ? Was his clothing something that could annoy some of the very high ranking persons here or was it at least halfway adequate for the situation ? Normally Hatuum didn't bother about such things at all except when doing his job, but right now these thoughs suddenly hit him so fiercly that the colossal man almost seemed to slightly shrink, though only briefly. Hatuum made unvarnished use of his size, taking a quick survey of the crowd to check if there was anyone eavesdropping. Personally he thought that speaking openly about such a mission in such a room was a big mistake, but it had not been him who started it. There was no point left in urging to relocate the discussion now. "Alright." He cleared his throat, partly due to embarrassment. "So I think there is a multitude of matters we have to discuss beforehand. First: Who is in command ? I'm not an official part of your mercenary group, Amiartys, but still it must be clear who has the duty to obey orders and who has the privilege to issue them. Second: The german territory is quite far away from here. I assume it is rather urgent ? So what do we do in order to get there if not walk ? Third: When and where to meet ? I'd like to have a little bit of time to prepare myself beforehand. A different set of clothes, something more adapted to the situation. And we need a plan."</s> <\|message\|>Anriette Argentine (Du'lac) The 'meeting' that followed the actual grand affair was something that interested the young Argentine heiress considerably more than all the lower level politics that had proceeded it, loitering for some time, the flame-haired woman approached the increasingly eclectic group, a pleasing, easy smile on her lips. She could be quite the charmer when she wanted to be, and right now she exuded the careful grace of a diplomat and noblewoman. "I couldn't help but notice that this discussion quite focuses on the possibility of this new German King, frightful business no?" Her accent was clear, a rolling, smooth tone, but not enough to disguise the meaning of her words. "Both interests I represent here have little to gain from a powerful barbarian ruler, and I do have a few connections in the region." She continued, tossing her ginger mane, heavily styled, slightly. It wasn't a shade naturally found among the peoples of the Coast, and was a clear hallmark of her father's mysterious origins in the North, and whatever contacts she might have there. "I can provide whatever support is necessary, provided I am involved." she added, with a slight grin, not quite reaching her ears.</s>	<\|message\|>Amelia Amelia listened to Alenios speak, and it was a concern, Nocturne was not exempt from courtly intrigues. Backstabbing, gossip, swindling, bribery, even down right murder have and probably will happen within the political circles of Nocturne. Despite being what could be the epitome of civilization in this world, it was immune to the depredations of humanity and trans humans, it was not immune to the decay seeking to worm its way through society. "Bring your guards." she said to Alenios. Turning to Amiartys and Hatuum, but speaking to the former, Amelia regarded them all before her eyes. "A dangerous threat is forming to the North, within the forest of Germania, rumors of a High King. A united Germania is a dangerous reality, tens of thousands of them pouring across our borders, a long and grueling war that would be. But if we can kill this in its nursery, excise the root from the soil, before its sprouts fruit it'd be a boon to us all. Arielle, you will accompany Alenios as well, your request is accepted. You all may take what you need." Amelia at that stood up and made to leave, but stopped, and turned half way to everyone, "If you all accept, gather at the Western Gate of Valeria's outer wall." At that she left, to prepare, and lay plans to keep Nocturne's clockwork government working efficiently without her being present to exercise executive powers. Moving throughout the citadel, progressively downwards, through hallways and dim galleries. Down many stair cases. Until she came to a vaulted chamber deep within the earth. The air was cool, mist hung around the stone masonry, and on the ground was a set of three gold icons. Stylized letters, the first letters in the names of the Elders, their place of rest when not awake. A sealed chamber to keep them safe. The advanced locking mechanisms using devices held over by the Elders since before the atomic wars long forgotten by mankind. For none but the Elders remained who knew of their workings. Moving to the one with the icon 'V' she flicked aside a small gold panel. Raising her wrist to her mouth she gave a small bite. Ruby rich blood trickled down into the pan. A pan cold to the touch, kept cold by some mechanical means long forgotten, and she closed the panel. With her index finger she adjusted a set of numerals to read 31. Thirty-one days until the blood preserved in the pan would be dispensed to whomever slumbered in the vault. To Vlad. So that he may awaken from hibernation and take the reins of power in Amelia's stead should anything befall her.</s>
<\|description\|>Hatuum Titles: Officially none. Inofficially however he has earned himself the nickname of 'The Phantom' Race: Human Age: 35 Physical Appearance: One can easily see that he's unusually pale for a human being and his eyes look somewhat strange. Yet there are no fangs and no fur is sprouting during a full moon. What appears to be quite altered or randomly mutated in his bloodline however are the portions of the genome controlling growth: At more than eight feet while still maintaining a very well visible heap of muscular bulk, he's rather unmistakable. The clothing/armor shown in the picture should not be taken as a precise reference to how he dresses. Given his job, Hatuum can appear in many different things. Usually it's the one that fits the situation he wants to confront himself with best. Biography: Hatuum's short history can be tracked back to a small region in the Alps, roughly at the point where the provinces of Westmark, Tyrstria and Veiern meet each other. It has not yet been possible to pinpoint his true origin, but this is the area where the first sighting of him has been confirmed. Given the medieval stage of development, not everybody carries around a passport and a bunch of legal documents which are forgery-proof - and he has proven to be quite elusive and able to go around guard posts. This is no accident. His profession is not exactly what an 'ordinary' man would do: Hatuum's an assassin. While he behaves like a submarine for most of time, there are secret ways to make him surface. Ways spread only by rumor and reserved for the rich and powerful. He's far beyond working for everyone. It makes it even harder to acquire his helping hand. He knows that the count, duchess or other person of noble rank calling for him today could very well be the one whose court he has spread terror in sometime before. Who knows on which list of suspects someone has put him on ? It is also the reason why his region of interest spreads across the entirity of Nocturne. The less frequent one returns to the same region, the better. Basically he's always on the search for the most promising contract. Hatuum's time on earth is comparatively limited - he has the intention to make as much glory out of it as possible. He doesn't control any kind of army, but on the smaller scale of a locked room he can be considered a one man variant of it.</s> <\|message\|>Alenios As soon as he saw her mood, Alenios rose from his seat, his two Blood Guards moving close to him as if they were his shadows. As soon as he got up, he could hear the people around him start to whisper names. Most of the people there whispered his favorite name, the Bloody Count or names like that, however, a few higher ranked dukes outright whispered the name... lapdog... something which he was not a very big fan of. However, he could not start arguing with other dukes here in the courts of Valeria, it make him and Amelia look bad. After a few moments of walking where the entire court had his eyes on him, he reached next to Amelia and stood up next to her. He could feel everyone's eyes watching, some were confused looks, some were looks of respect, however, most were looks of jealousy, everyone there probably thinking at why he was deserving to be so close to her when he was such a low rank. "What is it you wish me to do, my lady?" he asked with a courteous smile before his eyes fell upon the pages detailing the info of the tribes uniting. Part of him felt distress at this as he would have to face a powerful enemy if Amelia sent him to deal with the tribes, but another part of him felt excitement surging through him. So many enemies to kill... so many enemies to capture, a victory would increase his prestige greatly and maybe silence some of the people who judged him. Either way, he only smiled and awaited her commands, he would obey whatever she would command, even if it meant facing death.</s> <\|message\|>Arielle Dryell Amiartys rode from dawn, the sun following behind him as he and his Northern Swordsmen arrived to the Elder City of Valeria from the east. Thirty years since the siege of Prague did Amiartys last gaze upon the most opulent and populated city in the world, a time in which he fought alongside many of those who were willing and brave enough to put forth their own lives for a cause that was said to be certain to fail. Though the same could be said against their adversaries during that instant. A grave reminder, as many memories were of battle, written into a person's head as fate is so often written in stone. It was an old, almost desolate memory, one like many others he wished to forget had he not remembered the valor of many soldiers who fought during that battle. Though valor and honor were common themes to write about in the many grand tales, poems, and songs of an artist, hardly any names of the many souls who fight and died are seldom mentioned and quite often are those names lost in the sands of time. War is hell, they say, for those willing to risk gain either pretentious fame, or serve as lost and once living voices in the eternal sea of echoes were still nonetheless destined to bare witness the horrors of battle. The Siege of Prague being the most recent and bloody battle that Amiartys was ever a veteran of and many considered Amiartys to be an great and forgotten hero, as he led many company men and men-at-arms when they could not find any shred of motivation to fight in this battle though he was not the only leader of this battle nor the most important. Nonetheless, he did lead, and quite possibly contributed heavily to the victory of this battle. Amiartys, however, could care less about the historians who chose to not write about him. For only in living so many years and the experience to fill in those many days did he learn and accept modesty as an important developing behavior in contrast to his younger self. So many defeats, and victories, so many distant memories that made him again realize why some vampires and those born 'unnaturally' (as he liked to put it) who are destined to live extended lives sometimes envied humans. Time on this earth for humans and mortals are far more valuable than all the coins or all the valuables in the world, and like currency, it must spend it wisely and meaningfully, something a vampire could easily forget later in the course of his or her unnaturally extended life. It was rational therefore that the majority of Amiartys's company members would rather prefer to spend their own time outside the affairs of a typical city council gathering and spend time in the city itself, either visiting family or to find recreation as they typically did when reaching a rather large city. Valeria was certainly no exception. After arriving, Amiartys had almost forgotten how formal and intricate political discussions were, not to mention in a major city like Valeria. Perhaps attending the meeting would teach him something of value in his old age of 120 years, though he did not appear an age over 30 he was quite knowledgeable about the world. The council room itself was fairly crowded, though was large enough to house a host of many others who would wish to take part in political discussion. Many of the faces of the nobles who stood among the higher pedestals were recognizable as they were clients of his who had hired Amiartys for several tasks need to be occupied by a mercenary. A mercenary they knew they could depend on and were never disappointed. He looked around the room with his radiant brown eyes until he saw Amelia the Elder who he had not seen in thirty years since the seige and many others including Alenios the Bloody Count, Anriette Argentine, and Arielle Dyrell who seemed to be bored out of her mind and almost fast asleep listening to typical political discussion. There was also a strange-looking, pale human who looked like a veteran of trained combat who Amiartys thought was another mercenary looking for a job. He wore tribal-like armor which Amiartys found to be rather impractical, though it was his height that drew his attention. He was the tallest man he had ever seen! The man certainly could have not been human for he was eight feet tall and had skin even more pale than his own. All of Amiartys's five vampire guards remained by his side during the course of the council meeting with the exception of Daramous who needed to attend to a blacksmith in order to purchase ingot for preparations for their next potential job offer. In his place, was a human boy, a fresh recruit to the Northern Swordsmen Company who decided to spend his time in the council hall and remained at Amiartys's side. He was 12, almost 13 in a month and given to Amiartys under certain conditions in which he would not otherwise accept with such meager experience. Although the boy proved that he was an exceptional fighter, he was still just a boy with all the youth and passion life had so temporarily gave him and the rest of his race. "Have you eva' been ne'er or even seen an Elder before?", he asked almost excitingly, referring to Amelia. Amiartys could almost see the glow in his eyes through his peripheral vision. "Yes, a few years ago." He exchanged quietly, almost uninterested in what the boy had to say while still keeping an open ear. "And how long ag'o was tha'?", the boy asked, knowing that a few years for a vampire could easily mean more than fifty to a mortal man well past his prime. "Thirty. Since the siege of Prague. Didn't I already tell you?" "I wasn' ther', rememba'? I was ou' into town fetchin' the rations that we so gladly paid those farmers for. Thos' muffins were quite tasty. Ye rememba' don't y-" "I believe that was Aeros that I intended for that task. Did he make you take his place instead?" He calmly and quietly groaned to himself, already knowing the answer. "Yes. He tol' me you wanted me to do it." Amiartys almost wanted to sigh. That lazy buffoon he thought to himself. Although the boy was three-months fresh, he was not the only new recruit. Aeros himself had not even been two months introduced to the group when the boy himself was taken in, though he was far more experienced in conflict than most his age. Aeros was also young, being 23 in the height of his own prime. An excellent swordsmen, but an even better bowman who Amiartys could rely on, though not when it came to keeping him in his place as he slowly began to realize within the past month. "If I wanted summon you for a task, I would've sent you myself. Understand" The boy then nodded. "You should not always do what others tell you to do." He said carefully. "Oh. So, doe' tha' mean I shouldn't listen to ye" He asked, almost sounding like a tease. "Yes boy, only if you wish to go back to Milaria with your five older brothers." Amiartys smiled playfully with the boy though couldn't quite tell whether or not he was serious. The boy in return gave a shy grin before looking down submissively. Amiartys wanted to just assume the boy was either stupid or foolish, though he wasn't, in fact not even in the slightest - even if he did look and sounded that way. Naïve was the more appropriate term for a young human boy. The boy was of house Dresos, a noble family who had earned their revenue from farming wheat and corn to the west. Amiartys almost forgotten what it was like being young, truly young. The boy was raised by the Dresos who owned a subtle, modest community which Amiartys believed to breed some of the most competent human farmers and peasant in the land, and they were very well-to-do, even as peasants. Commodry was his name, a boy given to him only because Amiartys gave his word to take him under his wing. A skinny and ragged boy with crooked teeth, brown hair to complement his dusty appearance, and an unorganized complexion. From the beginning of this journey, Amiartys just knew he needed to work on this child and make him into a man as he so promised his family. In the meantime, there were manners in the council hall that needed to be attended and the conversations transitioned from unimportant, manners to more important and disconcerting ones as the meeting progressed. He could tell just by the looks of Amelia, who always tended to have a poker face. Rumors were beginning to form that Germans just north of the border were patrolling the parameters of Nocturne more frequently and seem to be collaborating with one another. Men of different tribes are often now seen together, sometimes exchanging important conversation in an alarmingly discreet manner, and have been seizing their raids. Dealing with raiders was not uncommon for Amiartys as he dealt with them so many times. So much in fact, he is infamous for slaying many great Germanic warriors though that was long ago even before the battle of Prague. If these rumors were in fact true, he would perhaps be of service as many other mercenaries could be during these potentially troubled times.</s>	<\|message\|>Hatuum The majority of the public session proved itself to be even more boring than Hatuum's anxiety had anticipated. Political discussions of the kind that was going on would not net him any new contract. What had he expected however ? A mercenary's life was no bed of roses, so what should an assassin's life be ? Yet the situation started to become more and more boring at an alarming rate. The unnaturally pale man started to spend an increasing portion of his time on tasks other than paying attention to the words spoken down there. He heard the large entrance gates open and close multiple times and on almost every occasion, Hatuum turned his head around to look who's coming. Only very few were of real interest for him though - one of them being Amiartys. It had rather not been the man himself that had attracted Hatuum's attention, but the fact that he had gathered five guards around him - and... a boy ? Why would anyone bring a young kid in here ? Hatuum found his words rather erratic and being a clear indication of inexperience. However on the other hand there was some implication behind the mere circumstance that someone who appeared to be as important or at least well-situated like Amiartys was actually willing to have such a person around himself. Hatuum was on his way making the decision to get up and approach him in a casual manner, but shortly before he was able to finalize his thoughts, things changed down where the elder was talking. So... Germans. He smirked. Why were historians still bothering about taking notes of their malicious activity ? Wouldn't it save a lot of parchment and memory if one started to mention peaceful times only ? His own life hardly covered any timespan worth being mentioned from a vampire's perspective, but he roughly knew what had happened over the course of the late last century. The question was... Was he willing to engage himself in open combat against them ? The thing was bound to earn him something, but it would be quite off his usual approach as well. Hatuum decided to defer his decision. The issue would not run away from him. Most likely not even the ongoing debate would do since these were prone to last long. The man who many considered to be some sort of strange monster got up sluggishly, turned around and went up the stairs taking several of them at once with each step he made. The mercenary Amiartys was dead ahead and was now approached by him. Hatuum wasn't sure about what to say, but everything would be better than sitting around there and doing... nothing... until things cleared up. "Hello there."</s>
<\|description\|>Hatuum Titles: Officially none. Inofficially however he has earned himself the nickname of 'The Phantom' Race: Human Age: 35 Physical Appearance: One can easily see that he's unusually pale for a human being and his eyes look somewhat strange. Yet there are no fangs and no fur is sprouting during a full moon. What appears to be quite altered or randomly mutated in his bloodline however are the portions of the genome controlling growth: At more than eight feet while still maintaining a very well visible heap of muscular bulk, he's rather unmistakable. The clothing/armor shown in the picture should not be taken as a precise reference to how he dresses. Given his job, Hatuum can appear in many different things. Usually it's the one that fits the situation he wants to confront himself with best. Biography: Hatuum's short history can be tracked back to a small region in the Alps, roughly at the point where the provinces of Westmark, Tyrstria and Veiern meet each other. It has not yet been possible to pinpoint his true origin, but this is the area where the first sighting of him has been confirmed. Given the medieval stage of development, not everybody carries around a passport and a bunch of legal documents which are forgery-proof - and he has proven to be quite elusive and able to go around guard posts. This is no accident. His profession is not exactly what an 'ordinary' man would do: Hatuum's an assassin. While he behaves like a submarine for most of time, there are secret ways to make him surface. Ways spread only by rumor and reserved for the rich and powerful. He's far beyond working for everyone. It makes it even harder to acquire his helping hand. He knows that the count, duchess or other person of noble rank calling for him today could very well be the one whose court he has spread terror in sometime before. Who knows on which list of suspects someone has put him on ? It is also the reason why his region of interest spreads across the entirity of Nocturne. The less frequent one returns to the same region, the better. Basically he's always on the search for the most promising contract. Hatuum's time on earth is comparatively limited - he has the intention to make as much glory out of it as possible. He doesn't control any kind of army, but on the smaller scale of a locked room he can be considered a one man variant of it.</s> <\|message\|>Alenios Zero Alenios fell to his knees before Amelia as if his his strings had been cut. "Of course not, my lady." he said, not daring to rise from this position. Even as his good friend Amyiartis was choked. It was a real pity if he were to die, but he vauled Amelia above all, even above his own person. And though he did not intervene, he did offer the Duke of Magyan a smile. Whether the duke chose to take this smile as a threat or as an apology, he did not care. As soon as the bell chimed, he rose to his feet and stood at Amelia's side, as he had always done. He saw it in her expressions that she was thinking of how she could deal with this situation. "My lady, know, that whatever you decide to do, you will have my support" he spoke, smiling, though for the first time, this was a genuine and caring smile. "If you order me now, I will gather my men and kill the barbarians to the last man." Though he knew that the enemy outnumbered his own Blood Guard by a great deal, all of his men were vampire from throughout Nocturne, be they first generation vampires or the weakest of vampires... they were all vampires and they were all loyal. However, he did not delude himself that he had any chance of victory against so great odds, but if Amelia ordered him to charge into the germanic tribes, he would do so without a second thought. Now he simply stood, and awaited her own answer, whatever that order might be.</s> <\|message\|>Hatuum Hatuum had to make a considerable effort to stop himself from smirking. Was anyone one the persons in front of him aware of how much unvarnished... unfriendliness... they had just released towards him ? Well of course he could be wrong objectively, but for subjective feelings nothing but one's own and current point of view was relevant. First of all there was this Alenios or whoever he was. Admittedly, Hatuum didn't have much to do with politics and courtly affairs - at least not from an 'ordinary' point of view. He wasn't completely aware of the man's role here, but suspecting someone of having an intent to satisfy multiple desires while that someone had hardly done anything more but to say 'hello' was quite unexpected. And then the man lost track of his schedule on when to pretend which positive emotion. All this smiling - all this false smiling. Amiartys, the one he had initially addressed, appeared to be of a much more friendly kind. The person appearing behind him and being called Mycandros however was not. It didn't escape Hatuum's attention that the vampire had been very close to openly threatening him with his impressive long sword and the giant was quite glad about Amiartys stopping the hostility while it was still in its subtle infancy. The vampire bodyguard or whatever he was had already earned his place on the list of possibly dangerous persons though. Hatuum had been hesitant enough not to carry a weapon in here. That was with the exception of his own body of course. Quite a lot of people probably considered him to be a weapon himself. He didn't. Raw flesh was pretty defenseless against a sharp blade, no matter how much there was available of it. Hatuum had blasted his way through a few taverns though... When Amelia decided to take things into her own hands literally, Hatuum became seriously concerned about the possibility of the situation escalating. How would Amiartys react to this kind of demonstration ? The self-appointed assassin didn't wait for the reaction of the mercenary leader but instead opted for sitting down as told quickly. Given that his biceps were thicker than many men's thighs already, one could probably imagine the extent of Hatuum's own legs burying the bench beneath them. Sometimes he really hated himself for being what he was, but most of the time he did the opposite. "Hatuum. Just... Hatuum. There's nothing more to add to my name." He briefly paused, waiting for an reaction before he decided to just go on. "So... a mercenary leader ? May I ask what you do exactly ?"</s> <\|message\|>Arielle Dryell A small drop of blood trickled down from Amiartys's slightly bruised neck where the markings of Amelia's hands had just been only a few seconds before. He had known that feeling of being strangled once, though that was many years ago when he was younger in age and in spirit. One moment he had tried to amiably control a situation that could have gotten out of hand, the next, he had completely lost that control, leaving Amelia to gasp not only that very heated incident but a tight gasp around Amiarty's neck. Her speed was impeccable, her strike against his pale neck, firm and elegant as she was. Amelia had a tight and very uncomfortable grip around his neck, her fingernails lightly digging into his skin and her hands as tight as steel around his neck. He looked into at her and saw nothing in her face but disappointment and deep into her piercing radiant eyes, Amelia looked at Amiartys as a predator so looks into its prey and in that moment, he understood true fear. Amiartys felt vulnerable in that moment, yet there was nothing he could do in that moment, he didn't resist. He knew that she wouldn't kill him over something as what he considered as frivolous as this though leaders seldom should miss the opportunity to discipline wrong-doers and in that moment, he understood why she did it. She held him with her left arm, lifting him from the ground as if he were as light as some helpless infant, her hands crushing his throat as he subtly struggled against her might. Though despite this, there was no use in even trying, her hands were both as cold and hard as steel. She even appeared to not be straining from lifting Amiartys, even with his gear on that made him a few pounds heavier. Amelia was quite un-ordinarily strong as the rumors had mentioned, then again Amelia was a very un-ordinary vampire. Amiartys throughout his long life had always been told the tales of the Elders and their vigorous ferocity in battle though he had not witnessed it himself until later in his life in the many wars he had so loyally fought for Nocturne, though never expecting such power to be pointed in his direction. The soldiers during the times of war had circulated rumors that an Elder had strange physical prowess over ordinary people and seldom were rumors ever refuted. Amiartys took Amelia's words and advice with the utmost consideration, for this easily could've been his last. He was even graciously wanted to thank her for her complement on his appearance as she examined him as if he were some sort of specimen. He smiled at her despite his face turning from crisp red to now a light blue. Amiartys could see that Amelia was almost, as some would say, amused with torturing him. Perhaps it was her way of flirting with him and it was something Amiartys had always grown to be used to though never quite in this manner. After grinning at her, Amelia released the grip she so tightly had over his neck, letting Amiartys almost stumble onto the ground had he not been caught by Mycandros. "I do apologize, my lady." Mycandros had so apologetically said to her, wanting to drop to his knees if he had not caught Amiartys. He help Amiartys back on his feet and dragged him several paces backward. Quietly, he then apologized to Amiartys. "I am so sorry sir. I would have tried to protect you, Amiartys, bu-" "You and I would've been dead in this very council hall, of all places to die." He struggled to admit though not because he didn't want to, but because of his struggle to even breathe. "I'm glad you at least understand that." Amiartys managed to say in light-hearted tone. He then cleared his throat before looking towards Commodry, seeing that he and Amelia exchanged a brief look before Amelia turned away. Commodry had always been a cowardly boy, though he appeared to be rather calm and tranquil with Amelia's presence and had a look of admiration towards her, smiling even as she was walking away. Of all people, Commodry seemed to have developed a fond liking to this Elder woman who he had ever saw the privilege of seeing for himself. Amiartys took a few seconds to recover himself and turned back to the giant man who he had just tried to defend earlier. "I do apologize again for what happened earlier, some of my men need to know their place." He turned to Mycandros, who then smiled sheepishly. "Now. What was your name again?" "Hatuum. Just... Hatuum. There's nothing more to add to my name." He replied, though there was a strange pause as if to say that he was nothing more than just some soldier. He was modest, which Amiartys could respect. "So... a mercenary leader ? May I ask what you do exactly ?" He asked. "I attend to matters that require my expertise and with a generous amount of coins and both I and my men will be loyal to those who employ us like many other mercenary companies. We mainly focus our business in Nocturne for now and though we are small, we comprise of the best men in these lands and beyond, with the exception of a few." He turned to Commodry, seeing that his eyes were still fixated on Amelia. "And you, Hatuum, what is your profession?" He asked, though he already knew that answer in some form. --- Arielle could not remember what she had dreamt about earlier though she could tell by her mood before abruptly waking up that it was a good dream like the ones she typically had whenever she had slept in a recreational manner during these tedious council meetings. She woke up to the sound of stumbling, only to realize that someone who looked like Amiartys, the mercenary leader who had fought along side both her father and grandfather, had just taken a considerable blow from Amelia though she had not known why. "What just happened, Contentos? Is that Amiartys?" She turned to her older adviser, who had been pinching the bridge of his nose frustratingly. He was a man no older than sixty and was a hardened veteran of the many battles he had fought alongside Arielle's father many years ago, something Arielle had always been told of since her youth. Though burdened by old age, he carried with him a strong appearance he had conditioned since youth. An excellent swordsman as proven many times in battle as shown by the scar that dragged along his face, just barely missing his eyeball. "Did something exciting finally happen during these boring meetings for once?" "Yes and yes, madam, that is him. I have not seen him in three years. I'm also afraid you have missed that very opportunity of something you consider 'interesting'. May I remind you that you are in a very important council meeting?" Contentos lectured her silently. "Yes, yes." She said annoyingly. "And when something interesting finally occurs, you don't even bother to wake me." She groaned before wiping the saliva she had left on her boiled leather forearm on her legs. "I was afraid of what repercussions that might ensue in the event that I should awake you after your 'peaceful' slumber." He reminded her of what happened last time. "Oh" She caught on. "I never quite expected you to be a man living in fear of anyone." She said teasingly, knowing that he was a proud man. "I do not, Baroness. Only strong women with a passion to discipline at a moment's notice." He replied, though Arielle could not tell whether or not Contentos was referring to either her or Amelia. They both watched as the meeting progressed.</s>	<\|message\|>Hatuum Hatuum made a waving gesture with his left hand, indicating that the matter was essentially dealt with for him. "As you can see, I have survived without suffering any physical harm. I think that is what counts on the bottom line ? I can understand that people feel uneasy when they see me and I am, though unfortunately, rather used to this kind of behaviour. However you can trust me that I don't intend and never had the intention to use my few extra feet and several hundred extra pounds to threaten you or anybody else. Even with weapons it would be quite a bit foolish to do such a thing here, wouldn't it ? It would be overly daring to attempt this against an entire group of mercenaries in general, no matter the location." The man arched an eyebrow and spent several seconds on looking at Amiartys before continuing with the actual topic. "So, a mercenary leader. Well..." Hatuum put his right leg on top of the left one. "Than we are not that different after all. I too am a... mercenary... leader, with the exception being that my 'group' consists of only one member." Logic would dictate that this single and only member could only be Hatuum himself. It wasn't a lie after all - just a bit of an unprecise, generalized wording. He wasn't eager to completely and directly let Amiartys or any of his companions in on the fact that he was an assassin. "I could imagine that one of the upcoming things could be either me asking if you'd have a job for me or you asking if I'd be willing to accept one."</s>
<\|description\|>Alenios I have decided to send this to you first so that I do not clutter the thread should this be not good enough. Well, is it good enough? Titles: Count of Sibiu, The Bloody Count(much to his pleasure) Race: Vampire (First Generation) Age: 680 years old Physical Appearance: (If you don't have an image or simply wish to add more detail) Biography: Alenios, also known as the Bloody Count in Nocturne for his rather bloody way of killing his enemies, is the current count of Sibiu and has been for the past 33 years, being appointed as Count at the same time that Amelia was appointed as Duchess of Transylvania, most likely thanks to her own influence as an Elder Vampire. Before being appointed as Count of Sibiu, there was little historical information on this First Generation Vampire other than him being one of her closest bodyguards and advisers during the conquest of the province. However, it was as soon as he became count that he showed who he truly was. While in court he is as refined as one can be with all the mannerisms of a nobled, on the battlefield he is a Vampire who wants nothing more than to achieve the complete destruction of Amelia's enemies and by extension, his enemies. Thanks to this attitude, he always accompanies Amelia on her campaigns outside the province and commands quite a large amount of troops to crush all her enemies in her name. In Nocturne he is both respected and somewhat feared by other lords and counts, human or otherwise, though humans tend trust him a whole deal less for his brutality in war. However, what people have questioned about him often is his loyalty towards Amelia, not that he lacks said loyalty, is that he is too loyal to her, if such a thing ever existed. And Amelia repaid his loyalty in kind, he is now her most trusted count and adviser when it comes to matters of war and a very close friend of hers. Her trust towards him is great enough for people to even spread rumors that the two are actually secretly lovers, much to his amusement. Additional Information: As the Count of the border county of Sibiu, a great deal of fighting is to be done here, resulting in his regular troops to be more experienced than their counterparts in other sides of Nocturne. Province/County Name of Province: Sibiu Name of Provincial Capital: Sibiu Population: 15.000 Military Size: 2.500 Military Info: Alenios' elite, called the Blood Guard are formed mostly of light cavalry and heavy infantry regiments with a few archers put in more for support than for actual battle. All of the men in the Blood Guard must have vampire blood - no matter how much - in order to be able to join the Blood Guard. They are usually split into regiments of 250 men each. Economy Info: The city of Sibiu is one of the few more industrial cities of Transylvania, as the bordering mountains provide the city with many minerals such as cooper and iron and even a few silver and gold deposits, making the small city quite rich compared to several cities from the province. As in the case with the rest of Transylvania, most of the lands around the city are mostly villages and hamlets, with one or two small castles and military outposts dotting the borders of the county.</s> <\|message\|>Anriette Argentine (Du'lac) Previously There was only the slightest of creaking as the wheels of the carriage bit into the road of the countryside road it trundled down. Well maintained and elegant in its styling, it was clear that this was the transport of either someone born of high blood, or rich enough to make up for it. Both factors played into the position of one Anriette Argentine, a position that now meant she found herself surrounded by reports of both mercantile and diplomatic persuasions. "Sir, could you refrain from staring, it quite puts me off." Her Aquatayne accent, carefully crafted, was pronounced, but not a hindrance to, her Nocturne. It was always best to sound like the nation that you were representing, and even more so, she, along with many others she had encountered, found it rather pleasing. "I'm watching the road m'lady, I've never once gazed at you." The somewhat perplexed guard captain that sat across from her, in the rather roomy carriage, replied with confusion. He was of this land, but paid by the Embassy. It made him quite useful for excursions out and about, but still, it was clear he was never quite sure if he had offended some sort of Aquatayne tradition. "Precisely, you're making it impossible to think of nothing but bandits and other rogues out there, surely there are better things to look at then the dark of night." She laughed a little at his sudden expression. Anriette was a fair woman, and rarely dressed to hide it, and she had made to deliberately tease him, before handing over a letter she had yet to cast her eyes over. "Please, read that to me while I check through these accounts." Recovering, the guard soon followed through with her demand, beginning to recount to her the latest communication that the head of the embassy had sent to her. A few minutes passed before a thud shook through the carriage, jostling those within, sending much of the paperwork flying around the carriage as the horse-drawn transport came to a sudden halt, the whiney and scream of horses soon following, before the whole carriage began to sag. "Wait here m'lady, I'll see what this is about." The captain drew his blade before exciting the carriage, his form followed by the concerned gaze of the lady in his charge, once the door was shut, Anriette busied herself in restoring her hair to its proper place, a few ginger strands having come loose in the commotion. When the twang of crossbows and the thud of a body striking the ground resounded from outside, the woman could only roll her eyes. "...Oh for the love of...this was a new gown." With that she stood herself, exciting the carriage. It was a well lit night, and the group of bandits that had gathered around the embellished carriage were treated to a near perfect view of the noblewoman leaving her transport, the ermine gown she wore studded with enough precious stones as to glisten in the moonlight. "Looks like we've struck lucky lads." The common accent of what must have been their ring leader washed over her, as badly as the smell that emnated from the lot. "Oh, I rather think you are mistaken." Anriette replied with a grin, which only seemed to grow wider, her teeth suddenly far too large to be contained by such a pretty smile. --- It had been quite the challenge to secure transport into Valeria after that. The first trader to happen open them of course believed her tear-sobbed story about a combined bandit and subsequent lycan attack, the young noblewoman only surviving by baring herself in the storage of the carriage, her gown torn to pieces by foul men before they had been punished by the arrival of a roving feral wulfen. Alas he wasn't going on the right direction, so had instead taken her to the nearest point of civilisation where she might procure further transportation. This would have been a problem, her with no real funds on her, had she not been able to procure the Argentine seal, in the world of traders, that meant a lot more than the Du'lac family crest she would usually present. With promises of repayment, she had finally been able to make her way to the grand city, on time even, it had been fortunate she had set off early. While not one to ceaselessly show off, Anriette was aware enough of her own appearance to expect to turn a few heads upon her arrival into the open session that the current vampiric elder was holding. The one that could be bothered to stay awake. That she did, dressed in a gown of blue and gold, a hallmark of Aquatayne, the redheaded beauty met a few of the stares directed her way, making sure to curtsy should they be anyone important enough to warrant it. Taking her place in the hall, provided with a comfy enough seat to rest herself upon, the diplomat contented herself with simply watching the process of Nocturne rule.</s> <\|message\|>Amelia Valeria, Council Chambers The Council Chamber buzzed with activity, the sounds of politicking and litigation, the sounds of the heart of an empire. An empire all in but name, for Nocturne covered a variety of lands and peoples, but remained rather unobstructed in the affairs of the Provinces. Only when necessary did the Council or Elders intervene. Now what was deemed necessary is always up to opinion. Nevertheless the Elders went through great pains to project an image of not being monarchs. They wore no crowns, held no scepters, and save for Amelia who took a title of nobility solely by merit alone do not proscribe themselves as some highborn lord or lady. Despite the fact that most in Nocturne would refer to them as if they were. Calling them lords and lady. Amelia, regal in her posture, had a face of blank boredom. She had heard it all before. The idle gossip, the sniveling rumors, the backhanded jabs, and the oratory posturing. She snapped the index and thumb of her left hand, a handmaiden swiftly came over with a silver goblet, handing it to Amelia she held it as a crimson liquid was poured into the chalice. Once it was filled the handmaiden stepped away to the side of the hall. Amelia raised the goblet to her nostrils, gently swirling the liquid, smelling the aromas. For it was wine, vampire wine, she could smell the slight traces of iron. The other aromas were of sweet maple, apples, and grapes grown in the Northern vineyards of Tyrstria. It was an excellent Spring blend. Taking a sip, the liquid staining her lips a slightly darker shade of red, she enjoyed the flavor before swallowing. Casting her eyes about the room, roving like a searchlight, she took in all who was in the crowded room. There where bankers, entrepreneurs, aristocrats, politicians, judicial magistrates, officers, and even artisans. A few of the commoner class were also present, being constituents of some of the politicians present as they heard their pleas, petitions, and grievances. No doubt a few would grace her study by midnight. Nearest to her, blocked by only a few individuals, was Alenios. Count of Sibiu, staunchly loyal to Amelia, so much so that it produced a steady string of gossip about them. The most popular is that Alenios secretly has been bedding Amelia for some time now. Let the vipers tell their fables was Amelia's opinion. As her eyes stopped at Alenios she released a small smile, no doubt others would see it as a sign of silent flirtation, maybe the stories were true? If so Alenios was either insanely lucky, or playing with a very dangerous fire, one that could easily see a head roll. One that certainly wouldn't be Amelia's. Not that Amelia wished him ill will; but that others would see Alenios trying to make a power play and attempt to outright murder him before he could supplant anyone. Amelia's eyes moved on, like gemstones they shown. Roving to the benches Amelia spotted a large fellow, a giant of a man, a name entered her mind. She had heard of such a fellow, for he seemed to match the description, Haerum? Haddum? Hatam?. Movement on the periphery drew her eyes away, a redhead, an elegant girl. Amelia did not know her, but there was something about her, a glint in her eye. She would have to inquire further. "My Lady." Amelia's head snapped back to before her, a Death Dealer knelt, Amelia waved a hand and the warrior rose. "Report from Morhemia." Amelia held out her hand, the soldier took out a parcel and bowing his head handed it to the Elder. Nodding in thanks to the Death Dealer, who promptly left, Amelia snapped open the seals. Several papers packed with scrawling text spanned the pages. As she scanned down the page more and more disturbing information became clear. The Germanic tribes were uniting under a tribal King. Traditionally fractious, the Germans did occasionally unite under a strong High King, and when they did they made their presence known. The last major invasion was in 778 and took the forces of Morhemia, Veiern, Valeria, and elements from Magyan and Transylvania to decisively end that war. The War lasted a solid ten years from 778-788. This coupled with the Cult of the Savior Christ beginning to spread prompted Marcusz to awaken Vlad and Amelia so that they may deal with the various threats. For the later half of the 8th Century was a time of numerous wars with Nocturne's neighbors. This darkened Amelia's mood, folding the pages and depositing them on her side she took heavier sips of wine, her face enraptured with thought. Looking at Alenios once more Amelia flicked her head slightly. Indicating for him to situate himself next to her.</s>	<\|message\|>Alenios As soon as he saw her mood, Alenios rose from his seat, his two Blood Guards moving close to him as if they were his shadows. As soon as he got up, he could hear the people around him start to whisper names. Most of the people there whispered his favorite name, the Bloody Count or names like that, however, a few higher ranked dukes outright whispered the name... lapdog... something which he was not a very big fan of. However, he could not start arguing with other dukes here in the courts of Valeria, it make him and Amelia look bad. After a few moments of walking where the entire court had his eyes on him, he reached next to Amelia and stood up next to her. He could feel everyone's eyes watching, some were confused looks, some were looks of respect, however, most were looks of jealousy, everyone there probably thinking at why he was deserving to be so close to her when he was such a low rank. "What is it you wish me to do, my lady?" he asked with a courteous smile before his eyes fell upon the pages detailing the info of the tribes uniting. Part of him felt distress at this as he would have to face a powerful enemy if Amelia sent him to deal with the tribes, but another part of him felt excitement surging through him. So many enemies to kill... so many enemies to capture, a victory would increase his prestige greatly and maybe silence some of the people who judged him. Either way, he only smiled and awaited her commands, he would obey whatever she would command, even if it meant facing death.</s>
<\|description\|>Arielle Dryell Arielle Dryell "Though life is simple, everyone will naturally intend on making it difficult." Basic Information Title/Occupation: Baroness, House of Dryell. Age: 31 Years Old. Place of Birth: Nocturne, Duchy of Transylvania, Barony of Dyrell. Current Residence: Nocturne, Duchy of Transylvania, Barony of Dyrell, Castle Lune. Title Status Information Title: Baroness, Head of Household to the Barony of Dyrell. Sworn Sword to the Head of Household of the Duchy and Providence of Transylvania, Vassal to the Elders of Nocturne. Barony Population: 13,000 Military Population: 4,546 Military Population Information: - 1,219 Able-Bodied Nobles, Knighted: Serve as Heavy Calvary. - 537 Conscripts: Mixed with Archers and very Light Infantry. - 2,790 Mercenary Company Members: 1,000 Heavy infantry, 1,500 Archers, rest is Light Infantry. Biography and Physical Appearance Physical Appearance Description: Arielle is a beautiful blonde human woman with fair skin, burdened with temporary youth. She is considerably tall, just reaching the height of what many consider what a tall man to be as she is also physically able to manage on her own. As many of her family members are, Arielle is blessed radiant blonde hair and piercing blue eyes like many in her family. Short Biography: Born into human nobility, Arielle shared the fate of the many before her in her family of House Dryell to swear loyalty to those who rule above them. Fortunately, she grew a high noble, completely predisposed to be seen as an important individual though predisposed to living the life as a 'lady'. She was the second youngest born out of five children in the Dryell Household. Growing up, Arielle had always been different, not just because she was an obvious tomboy but because she developed a ever-growing and noticeable aptitude as a soldier. Arielle's father saw this as an opportunity to make her into what she wanted, given he had exhausted all other options in conditioning her to be a traditional 'lady'. So, it was by her own choice, that Arielle decided to become a warrior such as the many famous maidens who happened to be women before her. It is not uncommon to see women serve as great warriors, though a human woman to be specific was. Nonetheless, Arielle was naturally stubborn and driven which would later serve as a positive in her roles not just as a soldier, but as a future leader of the Household. She would receive professional training in fighting as many noble men were given when they were young. At age eleven, tragedy struck the Dryell's on one unfortunate day when the eldest son, Marco was killed falling off his horse at age thirteen. She loved her brother and losing someone she loved taught her humility. Naturally, the second eldest son, Talmond was tasked with leading the Household after the father though growing up spoiled yield a weak man and Arielle had no patience for voluntary weakness. Though she loved him as she loved everyone in her family, she grew to despise having to excuse herself for her brother and the many mistakes he would make later in his life. It was at age fifteen that Talmond confessed himself for never wanting the position that had been placed at his feet at age eight and offered his predisposed position to his stronger sister. Despite insisting her brother keeping his title, Talmond eventually convinced his sister Arielle to take his place which she would later handle gracefully while Talmond traveled South for scholarly study. This would bring many conflicts among the family and the old traditions of household rule, traditions she would later learn to persevere. It was in the last few years of teen-hood did Arielle prove herself worthy of a man's position during the many conflicts the nation was facing regarding the raids by bandits. She was noted for having lead men into fierce battles and against odds that were not in their favor. In the political world, she had honed her skills as a politician as she did a Household leader, having to deal with the constant reprisals, though not because she was a women. It was there that she learned that fighting battles as a warrior compared to a politician were two completely different things that she would learn to disdain for. It is just that a women such as Arielle would grow ever so tired of such frivolous nonsense and it is because of this that she completely disdained and avoided politics altogether, only showing up to meetings only when absolutely needed or when ordered to by a superior. Arielle Dyrell is admired by so many and yet so very despised by those enemies who wish her dreadful misfortune though despite this, she still remains the strong person she wishes to be and aspires others to be like her.</s> <\|message\|>Hatuum "Test my abilities ?" Hatuum seemed to suddenly become even more attentive than he had been before, focusing in on the mercenary leader before turning his eyes briefly towards his companion Mycandros. He really would have liked to undergo such a test, though not because he'd have been absolutely convinced about his own superiority. In fact the very opposite was true: A test focusing on open combat would hardly cover the entire spectrum of an assassin's abilities while covering aspects that typically were not part of those - because they didn't need to. In his case the fall would likely be particularly degrading because one could reasonably expect that expectations were quite high, given his physical appearance. Yet... saying 'No' would be even more ignominious. What would they think if he'd say that ? Certainly there would be questions... "Okay... when, where and how ? And with - or against - whom ?"</s> <\|message\|>Amelia Amelia looked at Alenios as he spoke, her eyes onto him, and she let out a smile at his dedication. He was dedicated to her after all. That was not in doubt. But perhaps it was such that it led to momentary lapses in protocol, in a place where such a thing was paramount, and could not be readily dismissed. "The barbarians will have to be dealt with immediately. Perhaps the mercenaries here will prove useful?" Amelia looked at Amiarty's and Hatuum. Indeed they could prove useful as mercenaries for a mission to kill the new High King. Perhaps kill the king in such a way that would not immediately implicate Nocturne? Prevent the barbarians from solidifying further. A united Germania was a dangerous thought in Amelia's mind. "We need to kill this High King before he could invade Nocturne. But we cannot do something that will cause the barbarians to unite in anger. We will hire Amiartys and Hatuum on a contract to kill the High King. You will accompany them."</s> <\|message\|>Alenios Alenios listened intently of Amelia's proposition, he was not one to question Amelia's orders, but if this were to be an assassination mission, a man as large as Hatuum would be very suspicious and make the mission all the harder. "My lady, I do not doubt that Hatuum would be effective in direct combat, but he would be a bit unsuited for this mission." he said throwing a glance at the large man, before turning back to Amelia. "However, I can tell without any doubt that Amiartys would a great addition, I have seen him accomplish a great deal of amazing things during the Siege of Prague... and you that I don't give compliments that easily." to be honest, other than Amelia and Amiartys, he probably never complimented anyone else and mean it at the same time. However, he would not be one to question her orders, but that didn't mean that he couldn't take assurances. He approached Amelia and whispered in her ear. "To tell you the truth, I do not trust the large one, my lady, but I do not wish to question your decision, so I will take him, but only if you will allow me to take my two personal guards with me." he said, with his ever-present smile. "Plus, some of the nobles who dislike our closeness might see that an "accident" happens to me while on this mission, so I will be able to travel easier if my two trustiest bodyguards are with me."</s>	<\|message\|>Arielle Dryell "Oh, I would not necessarily consider it a trial of combat, Hatuum, though that is one of the obstacles you must grow through, of that I have no doubt you will pass." Amiartys examined him subtly. There was absolutely no doubt as to whether or not he would be a formidable warrior seeing that he frightened both Commodry and Mycandros. He was big, most definitely, in fact the largest man he'd ever seen. As tall as a statue and quite possibly as built, durable, and as strong as one if it were living. Amiartys didn't quite see him fighting in an open battlefield as he could easily be spotted directly and targeted by lancers, pikemen, or could be easily targeted from a volley of arrows. In that case, he would have to use large and thickened armor, perhaps made of titanium which was a very expensive material from the ancient world. Given the armor Hatuum already had on him, Amiartys deduced that it couldn't have been his role in a fight, maybe that was what he was hiding all along during this conversation. "Given we had just met, I don't necessarily know you quite that well, nor have I ever seen a man such as yourself not to mention your face. What are your specialties, you should say, as a mercenary?" Though before Hatuum could answer, the Elder of Nocturne spoke of the predisposition that was facing Nocturne. "Perhaps another time, I assume." Amiartys concluded before listening intently on what the Elder had to say on the matter that was facing Nocturne. An assassination on the High King? Amiartys thought to himself. That'll be no picnic, especially with someone was large as Hatuum here. There were tales once of giants who roamed the lands to the North, though through his own 127 years of living, Amiartys came across no such thing until he met Hatuum who was in fact not anywhere near the north. Certainly he would stand out as Alenio pointed out, though maybe if they had cut across mountain ranges and into forests it would not be as noticeable. He may even be an impressionable figure among the Germans if he had somehow infiltrated their premises, for it wasn't uncommon for those men to talk of such tales in an aspiring manner, but not to mention witness them before their own eyes. That would be a certainly entertaining thing to see. As long as they were quiet as to not arouse suspicion in attempt to assassinate this High King. It would definitely be no picnic, as he put it, especially if this High King, whoever he was, had gathered a host of the thousands of men of all of Germania together, not to mention if this High King had made treaties with the tribes of the northern barren reaches of Scandinavia, or the Ugric tribesmen of Old Russia. Maybe an army rather than a good company of experienced men would be more of a sufficient way to deal with this issue as it was a manner of national security. It wouldn't be a waste of good men, if the plan were to fail. Amiartys's skepticism began to fester within him, though came to terms with the Elder woman, who had lived for nearly a millennium. If a women such as Amelia could pick Amiartys like a babe in her arms with little to no strain, she could certainly kill a mortal human king with ease. After a brief silence, Amiartys finally get go of his skepticism and trusted the old and wise Amelia, subsequently accepting her offer, nodding his head towards Alenios, his old comrade and friend, and Amelia, the ancient Elder. "I'll gather my men whenever you need me to, Elder." Amiartys said. --- In the grand council chambers, Arielle forced herself to listen attentively to the important matters that were growing all the more disconcerting to the peoples of Nocturne. As rumors had speculated that Germans were beginning to form together under a high king were becoming true, Arielle grew all the more anxious about the next war that would take place during this moment of time. A large-scaled war destined to take place in Europa, a war that would determine the course of history like the many others before them. Events, like the ones her forefathers themselves took part in beforehand, the many mortal men who had put forth their lives for either the fame of many heroes they heard of in the grand tales and legends sung and told by generations of men or a few coins richer. History is written in the old papers of scholars and often exaggerated as legends of the common man, though to hold that flame of glory for yourself was, to Arielle, a salient opportunity. An opportunity far too great to miss. "My lady, I am at your disposal. As a loyal and trusted vassal of yours, I beg to take part of this expedition." Arielle implored. She had her father's ambition that was true, though his stubborn ability to prove himself on terms of battle. It would not necessarily be a wise move to send a noble Baroness to fight alongside only a handful of men, this she knew, but if she were to gather a force of perhaps a few good men along with having an Elder on their side might be suffice. She herself was a fine sword master, being taught by both Contentos and Amiartys, both hardened veterans who had fought alongside her father, though Amiartys had been fighting for generations before under their family when needed. The Dryell family had always considered him a good and loyal friend, a mercenary well worth the money needed to employ a soldier of such prowess. It had not been until forty years that he had grown fond of their family, often taking visits and helping condition the young and impressionable children to be better at yielding a sword, Arielle being one of them. She considered him as much of an uncle in the same way she viewed Contentos. They were both old nostalgic and amiable faces that she saw rather warm-heartedly and now she would see them as comrades, ready to fight and die if need be beside one another. Arielle was almost deathly eager to fight alongside Amiartys as she did years ago, as well as many others during this expedition to the mysterious north, which she had little to no personal knowledge or experience of. Though when Arielle turned to see Amiartys, her old and temporary mentor, she only saw a hidden expression of disappointment in his bright, hawkish brown eyes.</s>
<\|description\|>Arielle Dryell Arielle Dryell "Though life is simple, everyone will naturally intend on making it difficult." Basic Information Title/Occupation: Baroness, House of Dryell. Age: 31 Years Old. Place of Birth: Nocturne, Duchy of Transylvania, Barony of Dyrell. Current Residence: Nocturne, Duchy of Transylvania, Barony of Dyrell, Castle Lune. Title Status Information Title: Baroness, Head of Household to the Barony of Dyrell. Sworn Sword to the Head of Household of the Duchy and Providence of Transylvania, Vassal to the Elders of Nocturne. Barony Population: 13,000 Military Population: 4,546 Military Population Information: - 1,219 Able-Bodied Nobles, Knighted: Serve as Heavy Calvary. - 537 Conscripts: Mixed with Archers and very Light Infantry. - 2,790 Mercenary Company Members: 1,000 Heavy infantry, 1,500 Archers, rest is Light Infantry. Biography and Physical Appearance Physical Appearance Description: Arielle is a beautiful blonde human woman with fair skin, burdened with temporary youth. She is considerably tall, just reaching the height of what many consider what a tall man to be as she is also physically able to manage on her own. As many of her family members are, Arielle is blessed radiant blonde hair and piercing blue eyes like many in her family. Short Biography: Born into human nobility, Arielle shared the fate of the many before her in her family of House Dryell to swear loyalty to those who rule above them. Fortunately, she grew a high noble, completely predisposed to be seen as an important individual though predisposed to living the life as a 'lady'. She was the second youngest born out of five children in the Dryell Household. Growing up, Arielle had always been different, not just because she was an obvious tomboy but because she developed a ever-growing and noticeable aptitude as a soldier. Arielle's father saw this as an opportunity to make her into what she wanted, given he had exhausted all other options in conditioning her to be a traditional 'lady'. So, it was by her own choice, that Arielle decided to become a warrior such as the many famous maidens who happened to be women before her. It is not uncommon to see women serve as great warriors, though a human woman to be specific was. Nonetheless, Arielle was naturally stubborn and driven which would later serve as a positive in her roles not just as a soldier, but as a future leader of the Household. She would receive professional training in fighting as many noble men were given when they were young. At age eleven, tragedy struck the Dryell's on one unfortunate day when the eldest son, Marco was killed falling off his horse at age thirteen. She loved her brother and losing someone she loved taught her humility. Naturally, the second eldest son, Talmond was tasked with leading the Household after the father though growing up spoiled yield a weak man and Arielle had no patience for voluntary weakness. Though she loved him as she loved everyone in her family, she grew to despise having to excuse herself for her brother and the many mistakes he would make later in his life. It was at age fifteen that Talmond confessed himself for never wanting the position that had been placed at his feet at age eight and offered his predisposed position to his stronger sister. Despite insisting her brother keeping his title, Talmond eventually convinced his sister Arielle to take his place which she would later handle gracefully while Talmond traveled South for scholarly study. This would bring many conflicts among the family and the old traditions of household rule, traditions she would later learn to persevere. It was in the last few years of teen-hood did Arielle prove herself worthy of a man's position during the many conflicts the nation was facing regarding the raids by bandits. She was noted for having lead men into fierce battles and against odds that were not in their favor. In the political world, she had honed her skills as a politician as she did a Household leader, having to deal with the constant reprisals, though not because she was a women. It was there that she learned that fighting battles as a warrior compared to a politician were two completely different things that she would learn to disdain for. It is just that a women such as Arielle would grow ever so tired of such frivolous nonsense and it is because of this that she completely disdained and avoided politics altogether, only showing up to meetings only when absolutely needed or when ordered to by a superior. Arielle Dyrell is admired by so many and yet so very despised by those enemies who wish her dreadful misfortune though despite this, she still remains the strong person she wishes to be and aspires others to be like her.</s> <\|message\|>Anriette Argentine (Du'lac) The 'meeting' that followed the actual grand affair was something that interested the young Argentine heiress considerably more than all the lower level politics that had proceeded it, loitering for some time, the flame-haired woman approached the increasingly eclectic group, a pleasing, easy smile on her lips. She could be quite the charmer when she wanted to be, and right now she exuded the careful grace of a diplomat and noblewoman. "I couldn't help but notice that this discussion quite focuses on the possibility of this new German King, frightful business no?" Her accent was clear, a rolling, smooth tone, but not enough to disguise the meaning of her words. "Both interests I represent here have little to gain from a powerful barbarian ruler, and I do have a few connections in the region." She continued, tossing her ginger mane, heavily styled, slightly. It wasn't a shade naturally found among the peoples of the Coast, and was a clear hallmark of her father's mysterious origins in the North, and whatever contacts she might have there. "I can provide whatever support is necessary, provided I am involved." she added, with a slight grin, not quite reaching her ears.</s> <\|message\|>Amelia Amelia listened to Alenios speak, and it was a concern, Nocturne was not exempt from courtly intrigues. Backstabbing, gossip, swindling, bribery, even down right murder have and probably will happen within the political circles of Nocturne. Despite being what could be the epitome of civilization in this world, it was immune to the depredations of humanity and trans humans, it was not immune to the decay seeking to worm its way through society. "Bring your guards." she said to Alenios. Turning to Amiartys and Hatuum, but speaking to the former, Amelia regarded them all before her eyes. "A dangerous threat is forming to the North, within the forest of Germania, rumors of a High King. A united Germania is a dangerous reality, tens of thousands of them pouring across our borders, a long and grueling war that would be. But if we can kill this in its nursery, excise the root from the soil, before its sprouts fruit it'd be a boon to us all. Arielle, you will accompany Alenios as well, your request is accepted. You all may take what you need." Amelia at that stood up and made to leave, but stopped, and turned half way to everyone, "If you all accept, gather at the Western Gate of Valeria's outer wall." At that she left, to prepare, and lay plans to keep Nocturne's clockwork government working efficiently without her being present to exercise executive powers. Moving throughout the citadel, progressively downwards, through hallways and dim galleries. Down many stair cases. Until she came to a vaulted chamber deep within the earth. The air was cool, mist hung around the stone masonry, and on the ground was a set of three gold icons. Stylized letters, the first letters in the names of the Elders, their place of rest when not awake. A sealed chamber to keep them safe. The advanced locking mechanisms using devices held over by the Elders since before the atomic wars long forgotten by mankind. For none but the Elders remained who knew of their workings. Moving to the one with the icon 'V' she flicked aside a small gold panel. Raising her wrist to her mouth she gave a small bite. Ruby rich blood trickled down into the pan. A pan cold to the touch, kept cold by some mechanical means long forgotten, and she closed the panel. With her index finger she adjusted a set of numerals to read 31. Thirty-one days until the blood preserved in the pan would be dispensed to whomever slumbered in the vault. To Vlad. So that he may awaken from hibernation and take the reins of power in Amelia's stead should anything befall her.</s> <\|message\|>Hatuum Hatuum nodded in silence, but full of purpose. It was always a good thing to explicity signal the contractee that one did agree with his terms, thereby formally making the deal. The assassin firmly believed that this was true even if one's employer told that the contract would be regarded as accepted implicitly by showing up at a certain location at a certain time. Then he could see the elder vampire leave. There was no point in trying to stop her to ask more questions - he probably would have done it if it had not been her. The information provided could very well be regarded as sparse and he wasn't happy about it. Yet... if it was the elders themselves wanting to hire him there were good chances that the payment would be equally high-ranking, even if the job was bound to be difficult, too. What a lucky decision it had been to go here... Definitely worth listening to all this political gibberish! Hatuum turned his head and attention back to the mercenary leader. "Alright. I'll see you at the allotted rendezvous point then ? Greetings..." He nodded towards Amiartys in a friendly manner as well, then slowly accelerated to make his way out of the building. The assassin deliberately restrained himself to a snail's pace: If the other man would feel the urge to add or ask something - he'd still have the opportunity to do so right now. Otherwise however Hatuum would leave. There was a lot to prepare for he'd not go on this mission without his own equipment.</s>	<\|message\|>Arielle Dryell And with that, the Elder left the council hall, as abruptly as she usually did, though it was Arielle that was on his mind. That fool... Amiartys thought to himself. A baroness, head of the household, wants to go on a mercenary mission? What the hell is she thinking? He could see it in her flamboyant and radiant green eyes, the eager and flaming passion to pursue something she had never done before, to expand her limitations. It was true that she was a different woman, certainly no maiden wanting to be rescued by some knight in shining armor for she was one! No, Arielle was no ordinary woman at all and certainly no ordinary human in addition to that fact. A wild-blooded woman, descended from the Germans who migrated into Nocturne and forged the great noble houses north just several hundred years past. Many could derive her rather masculine behavior from being raised in a household filled with younger brothers, having to lead and deal with men nearly all of her life. Amiartys, however, thought otherwise, perhaps he thought she was born that way, a human born astray from many others. As admittingly intrepid as she was, Arielle was however predisposed to show her worth in the world, often too boldly as it had gotten her in trouble many times in the past when she was smaller as Amiartys could remember. That certainly did not change. Change must only occur someone, so as long as that person is willing to make that change themselves. Arielle was no exception to that. She had her father's ambition, this he could admit, though his rash valor, ready to prance as quickly as a rabbit if ever one was to be so eager to jump into the call to duty. Thus the predisposition was further based downward to his daughter, who he did not expect to be a soldier at all, not to mention the true Head of the Household as a woman. He had yet to teach her humility. Women who fought during vicious wars were definitely not at all uncommon, though hardly of them were human, especially as young as Arielle was. That he could again give her respect for, but to risk throwing her life away for what? To bottle fame, if not for at least once? Like the many shield maidens she heard of in her ancestry many hundreds of years ago? It was idiotic and foolish he thought, why she would allow herself to do this he had no idea but he knew he could not force her to stay. She was too stubborn for that and she was perfectly able to make decisions on her own though Amiartys wished he could've taught her better. "Mycandros, gather the men, wherever they roam, and have them bare arms and have them pack to leave soon from this city." Amiartys ordered. Mycandros complied without hesitation, silent as he normally wasn't though it was whenever he knew he had disappointed Amiartys as he did earlier when Amelia had her hands wrapped around his neck. "You must leave too, Commodry, and let me stay here just for a while." "Aw, but I-" "No buts, go, boy. Unless you want to walk all the way to Germania. Besides, I'm surprised you're not bored in a place like this." He said, referring to the typical and rather boring political discussions. The boy however semed to be impressed by the individuals attending this meeting than by the discussions. "Mycandros, take him with you. You are to take charge for now, I shall meet you at the Inn. Now off with you!" He gesticulated a cue for his men to leave with haste. Amiartys could not deal with them now, he had to talk to his old and rather rash student whom he partially raised. "Yes sir." Mycandros complied, signaling Amiartys's guards to leave his side. Briskly, they left the large council hall that had already been emptying out, the large man following behind the crowd. It wasn't until it was more than halfway empty that Amiartys could admire the architecture of the building. The arches and symmetry of the building, rebuilt from when a time the old world before the Great Wars where those who lived during that era would call it ancient, though it were polished as as if it were new. The waxed mahogany that shined almost as bright as metal, the radiant windows shining from the rising morning sun that pierced into the council hall, the clear, reflective, and fine marble that lay on the floor. It was a fine city, as the rumors said they were, a city Amiartys had nearly forgotten about in these 30 years since being away. "Alright. I'll see you at the allotted rendezvous point then ? Greetings..." Said the large man as he left the building. "Yes, yes, Hatuum. Goodbye, and be sure you are ready before our departure." he reminded him, though Amiartys already knew he was well prepared. He looked as if he were a hardened veteran of violence, he had come across many his many youthful years and with that, Hatuum had left the building, leaving Amiartys to contend with his old student in the council hall.</s>
<\|description\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir Age: 33 Race: Human (Sub-Saharan African in appearance) Appearance: Rintor is a smallish, very dark-skinned man in his early thirties, wiry but muscular. He has dark grey-brown eyes and is vaguely handsome. However, he suffers from Alopecia Universalis, which renders him completely hairless across his entire body. He usually dresses in a simple black robe, with black leather boots, loose black pants, a handful of fur pelts, and a thick brown leather belt with a trio of leather satchels around his waist. In his youth, he would often wear a mask that covered most of his face. However, he doesn't wear it anymore. Role: Linguist, assassin, scout Bio: Rintor comes from Boshir, a powerful fiefdom in the south, where he was the third son in a family from his country's equivalent of the landed gentry. His father and grandfather had both served with distinction in the king's army as armed scouts in previous conflicts, rising to become commanders. Rintor seemed destined for the same path, and indeed demonstrated considerable aptitude as a child. However, he manifested somewhat unexpected magical abilities upon puberty and was sent for schooling in the arcane arts. He showed little promise with higher magicks, but excelled at what was called 'lightbending', which, in short, allows him to bend the visible light spectrum so as to appear all-but invisible. Before long it appeared that he had reached a dead-end. While lightbending was a useful skill, people who trained at the academy of thaumaturgy were strictly forbidden from using the abilities learned there for violent ends. When war erupted with a neighboring Elven kingdom, Rintor, then only seventeen, remained at the academy. He had flourished during his years there and grown into a thoughtful young man. However, after a year, the military situation turned for the worse, and he was personally pulled out of the academy upon orders of the king and placed into the army as a commissioned officer. Whatever his moral qualms, Rintor served as his father and grandfather had before him. If his swordsmanship was subpar for his station, he had little use for it during scouting missions. However, one can only last for so long in a war without resorting to violence. Forced to kill an enemy scout who would have revealed his army's position, Rintor had shed his first blood. Surrounded by martial culture, his guilt was quickly assuaged. From that point onward, he became the leader of an advance party that quickly became infamous for its lightning strikes, guerilla warfare, and sabotage. His lightbending skills made him almost absurdly effective, and before long Rintor was doing more than scouting. Assassinations came next, followed by long missions deep into enemy territory. His initial moral objections having become a thing of the past, and fed a steady diet of awards, honours, propaganda, and berserker mushrooms, Rintor became a gleeful killing machine. Gifted a pair of finely honed daggers by the king himself, the lightbender's trail of bodies grew until he was feared, revered, and loathed across much of the continent. It became something of a legend that he would always appear out of nowhere a bare moment before striking the fatal blow, smiling like the devil himself. His high (or low) point, came when he infiltrated the bedchambers of the Elven king and murdered him and his entire family in cold blood. This plunged the country into civil war and forced their interim leadership to sue for peace terms. Back home, Rintor was hailed as a hero, but with the war over and the accolades, drugs, and honours drying up, he felt increasingly hollow. He longed for purpose, which he attempted to find in hunting, bloodsport, and horse racing. All were dead ends. The academy had long since severed all ties with him and he was not allowed to return there. At some point, he disappeared from society altogether. Nobody is entirely certain where he went for seven years, but when he reappeared, he was able to speak six new languages and he seemed to have found his peace. He sat outside of the academy in meditation, drinking only one bottle of water each day, for twenty-six days and nights until he was finally granted an audience with the provost. The price that he paid for readmission to the academy was considerable: all of his lands, honours, titles, and possessions save what he had carried with him, as well as a solemn vow of non-violence to be broken upon pain of a degenerative curse that will slowly and painfully cause him to waste away. For the next three years, he ensconced himself within its hallowed halls, re-emerging at around the same time that the opening of the portal was announced. He appeared before the king, dressed in his simple black robes, and requested that he be the first of his nation to step through the portal. Given his status as a war hero, it was a request that could hardly be refused. Nobody knows what his motivation is except for Rintor himself, though one would assume that it has to do with the fascination of exploring a new land and finding redemption in the process. Skills: Rintor can move with the utmost stealth and silence. Even elven ears struggle to detect him. He is almost ridiculously proficient with knives and daggers, though he has sworn never to use them for violence against another sentient being so long as he lives. He is able to draw maps and describe topography in considerable detail, though perhaps not as well as he might've in his youth. He is adept at sabotage, guerilla warfare, and has some tactical abilities, though these are qualities that he tries not to advertise. Rintor is a skilled horseman and reasonably proficient with a bow, though not what one would call 'naturally talented'. He can fast for an extended period of time and possesses basic survival skills. He has an innate ear for languages and has studied linguistics over the prvious handful of years, though he tends to speak with a thick accent. Magic: Rintor is able to bend light so that he blends in flawlessly with his surroundings for extended periods of time when still and short bursts while moving. This effectively makes him able to turn invisible. However, the ability only extends to the visible light spectrum, and requires considerable concentration. He also struggles to blend into backdrops with especially intricate patterns or with many colours and a great deal of motion. Equipment: Rintor has the clothes on his back, a flask of water in one satchel, some parchment and a quill in another, and some dried fruits, jerky, and nuts in another. He also has a pair of wickedly sharp daggers gifted to him by the king, but he wants nothing to do with them. Other: Rintor is quiet and reserved – some would say aloof and subtly arrogant. He never shows his teeth anymore when smiling. He seems to be highly intelligent, though he will rarely correct people's mistakes. He also appears to have little to no interest in women. Though he has tried hard to train it out of himself, he harbours a degree of suspicion towards elves and many near-human beings. Before Rintor went through the portal, the king gifted him his old daggers back and bade him take them through the portal. Rintor could not disobey with so many eyes on him, but he plans to drop them the moment that he steps through, and not just for his own sake. Given his past and his distinctive appearance, I'd assume that he would be known to many of the other characters, at least by name and reputation.</s> <\|message\|>The Cast Ayana Ayana huffed at the Dwarf's dismissal of her indignation. She didn't like that he thought certain work was beneath him either. But, she didn't want to start a fight the first day on the trip so she left it at that. Maybe he didn't like shoveling dung because he was so short and his nose was so close to it... The thought of it made her giggle and her good spirits were restored. And so, she joined the group as they began walking toward the mountain that loomed on the horizon. Then, their group leader, or at least the person who was acting as the leader, came up with an idea. "A watchtower? I think that's a great idea! Ayana said brightly. "We can even put a weather vane on top of it! I'm no carpenter, but I'd be happy to help you build it. I helped my family fix up their bar all the time when it needed repairs. It can't be that much different." Ayana walked in stride beside Esailia. She liked the Mithra's "let's get to work" attitude. Plus, she didn't have to feel weird about being the only person with animal ears. It was odd how few kitsune their were in the more urban areas. @Esailia * * * As the party neared the mountains, the grass became thinner, more sparse, and more prickly. The soil gradually faded from a dark brown to a light tan. The temperature was still pleasantly warm, though it was beginning to cool as the sun drooped lower in the sky. By its position, it was now late afternoon, approaching the evening. The mountains were still a half-day's hike away and it would likely be dark before they reached them. Still, the party drew close enough to them now to discern some of their features. They were a series of peaks that seemed to have valleys running through them, and swirling patterns in the stone that were made more intense by the orange backdrop of the sky. By the looks of it, the sun would be setting about 45 degrees away from them, making their mountains North-West-ish by virtue of sunset.</s> <\|message\|>Zeke As they neared the mountains, Zeke paid attention to the sun. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, though he'd need a few nights to be sure. He didn't know whether this was a heliocentric or geocentric earth - that was, if it was even a planet at all. An idea struck him. What if it was a moon? Were they orbiting a greater planet now, and was that one orbiting still yet another planet? The thought was absolutely ludicrous, though fascinating and thus worth contemplating. But another time. Kneeling momentarily, Zeke gathered a few solid rocks. They were abundant in this area, so he decided it would be best for him to take some now. He quickly stored them in his pack and pulled out a few of his wood rods. In order to help him make sense of this new world, he would need to run a few tests. That was precisely why he brought these rods, and so he began to work at them, boring holes and cutting notches with a utility knife. Hopefully he'd be ready for his first test by the time they set up camp. If he wasn't, though, it was hardly an issue. Being an astronomer, he'd have to stay up through the night anyway. Zeke nodded slightly as Esailia talked, but refrained from asking her any more questions. Other group members wanted her attention, and he didn't feel like fighting for it - especially when he had nothing worthwhile to say. When she mentioned that he might work with others to determine cardinal directions or otherwise develop a map, he wasn't very enthusiastic, especially considering the people he was to work with. The halfling - Shel, was it? - didn't seem so bad, but Rhen was a different story. As soon as Zeke was aware that a changeling would be entering the portal with him, he knew there would be problems. How could anyone trust a creature with the ability to change its appearance at will? It put him a little at ease that the changeling seemed so unsophisticated, and thus less of a threat, but still he couldn't know for certain whether that was accurate. Rhen could be hiding anything. But as much as the changeling was dangerous, Rhen could be an even more formidable ally - provided Zeke would be able to withstand their apparent lack of maturity. It was for this reason that he approached Rhen and tried to strike up a conversation, thinking long and hard about the first thing he would say. Do you often use your face as a projection of your personal qualities? He coughed. "I've not met a changeling before. If you don't mind, er, what kinds of forms can you take?" he asked politely though curiously, absently whittling.</s> <\|message\|>Numzom Deepfeet (Half-Elven Swordsman) The party is still half way to the mountains, the mountains from the distance looked like a wave of rocks, possibly by a lava stream years ago, he's no geologist, but he can guess. Numzom has not made any friends what so ever in this exploration, bummer, he has an idea, making friends with the Kitsune farmer, since she practically has the same attitude as him, he thought "Maybe ill talk to her, maybe". The party still is walking, looking for a peak near a stream, and since no one is talking to him, he'll just talk to the spirit and munch an apple.</s> <\|message\|>Rhen Rhen had lapsed into silence after her initial round of flirting. Well, admittedly, she'd not stopped talking, just began dictating the expedition log again. "Was decided to set up camp at mountains visible from portal location due to defense considerations. With entry direction of portal taken as north, as no lodestone offered, mountains are NNE, estimated day's travel on foot. Travel time will be revised after journey completed." She caught the quill between two of her fingers as the messy human in the blue cloak spoke to her. She had mentally dismissed him as soon as she saw him. Honestly, there were far better looking people to get entangled with, physically, emotionally or politically. He really did look like the bottom of the barrel, but her cousin had made a living down there. Not that Rhen would like it there. She pulled a party trick she hadn't in a while: her hair turned to a spectrum from right to left, from white-blond through red and brown to deep midnight black. Similarly, her skin went in bands from pale elvish white through dwarven ruddiness and halfling chestnut to the darkest Bashirian black, hitting most human shades along the way. She also sharpened one ear to a fine elven point and the other to a drooping Bashirian lobe. "I'm the girl of your dreams, honey," she deflected the question while answering it. "Or the man, if that gets you standing." She offered a grin her family had refined to be as charming and sexy as possible on a woman's face. Many a pocket had been fleeced when Rhen and her mother had worked together with that smile. She wiped her face with a hand, resuming the dark, freckled look she had previously. "Or you're not the sort to stand up for anything, are you?"</s>	<\|message\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir "A watchtower would be good," Rintor answered belatedly, having become a bit wrapped up in gently letting the changeling down. He no longer holds much interest in Earthly pleasures, or so he often tells himself. For the past few minutes, he's been trying to get the lay of the land distance-wise. At least the mystery of cardinal directions seemes to have been solved. "However," he adds, "water must be our first priority, as our supply is not great and a warm stew sounds...delicious." He glances at the halfling and can't help but smile. Helpful little fellow - the type who's the glue of expeditions like this. "That's my reason for heading in the direction of the foothills. Valleys provide natural and predictable places for water to flow and collect. I suggest that we make a temporary camp in a defensible position before sundown. We'll have the entire day tomorrow to scout out and set up a more permanent position."</s>
<\|description\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir Age: 33 Race: Human (Sub-Saharan African in appearance) Appearance: Rintor is a smallish, very dark-skinned man in his early thirties, wiry but muscular. He has dark grey-brown eyes and is vaguely handsome. However, he suffers from Alopecia Universalis, which renders him completely hairless across his entire body. He usually dresses in a simple black robe, with black leather boots, loose black pants, a handful of fur pelts, and a thick brown leather belt with a trio of leather satchels around his waist. In his youth, he would often wear a mask that covered most of his face. However, he doesn't wear it anymore. Role: Linguist, assassin, scout Bio: Rintor comes from Boshir, a powerful fiefdom in the south, where he was the third son in a family from his country's equivalent of the landed gentry. His father and grandfather had both served with distinction in the king's army as armed scouts in previous conflicts, rising to become commanders. Rintor seemed destined for the same path, and indeed demonstrated considerable aptitude as a child. However, he manifested somewhat unexpected magical abilities upon puberty and was sent for schooling in the arcane arts. He showed little promise with higher magicks, but excelled at what was called 'lightbending', which, in short, allows him to bend the visible light spectrum so as to appear all-but invisible. Before long it appeared that he had reached a dead-end. While lightbending was a useful skill, people who trained at the academy of thaumaturgy were strictly forbidden from using the abilities learned there for violent ends. When war erupted with a neighboring Elven kingdom, Rintor, then only seventeen, remained at the academy. He had flourished during his years there and grown into a thoughtful young man. However, after a year, the military situation turned for the worse, and he was personally pulled out of the academy upon orders of the king and placed into the army as a commissioned officer. Whatever his moral qualms, Rintor served as his father and grandfather had before him. If his swordsmanship was subpar for his station, he had little use for it during scouting missions. However, one can only last for so long in a war without resorting to violence. Forced to kill an enemy scout who would have revealed his army's position, Rintor had shed his first blood. Surrounded by martial culture, his guilt was quickly assuaged. From that point onward, he became the leader of an advance party that quickly became infamous for its lightning strikes, guerilla warfare, and sabotage. His lightbending skills made him almost absurdly effective, and before long Rintor was doing more than scouting. Assassinations came next, followed by long missions deep into enemy territory. His initial moral objections having become a thing of the past, and fed a steady diet of awards, honours, propaganda, and berserker mushrooms, Rintor became a gleeful killing machine. Gifted a pair of finely honed daggers by the king himself, the lightbender's trail of bodies grew until he was feared, revered, and loathed across much of the continent. It became something of a legend that he would always appear out of nowhere a bare moment before striking the fatal blow, smiling like the devil himself. His high (or low) point, came when he infiltrated the bedchambers of the Elven king and murdered him and his entire family in cold blood. This plunged the country into civil war and forced their interim leadership to sue for peace terms. Back home, Rintor was hailed as a hero, but with the war over and the accolades, drugs, and honours drying up, he felt increasingly hollow. He longed for purpose, which he attempted to find in hunting, bloodsport, and horse racing. All were dead ends. The academy had long since severed all ties with him and he was not allowed to return there. At some point, he disappeared from society altogether. Nobody is entirely certain where he went for seven years, but when he reappeared, he was able to speak six new languages and he seemed to have found his peace. He sat outside of the academy in meditation, drinking only one bottle of water each day, for twenty-six days and nights until he was finally granted an audience with the provost. The price that he paid for readmission to the academy was considerable: all of his lands, honours, titles, and possessions save what he had carried with him, as well as a solemn vow of non-violence to be broken upon pain of a degenerative curse that will slowly and painfully cause him to waste away. For the next three years, he ensconced himself within its hallowed halls, re-emerging at around the same time that the opening of the portal was announced. He appeared before the king, dressed in his simple black robes, and requested that he be the first of his nation to step through the portal. Given his status as a war hero, it was a request that could hardly be refused. Nobody knows what his motivation is except for Rintor himself, though one would assume that it has to do with the fascination of exploring a new land and finding redemption in the process. Skills: Rintor can move with the utmost stealth and silence. Even elven ears struggle to detect him. He is almost ridiculously proficient with knives and daggers, though he has sworn never to use them for violence against another sentient being so long as he lives. He is able to draw maps and describe topography in considerable detail, though perhaps not as well as he might've in his youth. He is adept at sabotage, guerilla warfare, and has some tactical abilities, though these are qualities that he tries not to advertise. Rintor is a skilled horseman and reasonably proficient with a bow, though not what one would call 'naturally talented'. He can fast for an extended period of time and possesses basic survival skills. He has an innate ear for languages and has studied linguistics over the prvious handful of years, though he tends to speak with a thick accent. Magic: Rintor is able to bend light so that he blends in flawlessly with his surroundings for extended periods of time when still and short bursts while moving. This effectively makes him able to turn invisible. However, the ability only extends to the visible light spectrum, and requires considerable concentration. He also struggles to blend into backdrops with especially intricate patterns or with many colours and a great deal of motion. Equipment: Rintor has the clothes on his back, a flask of water in one satchel, some parchment and a quill in another, and some dried fruits, jerky, and nuts in another. He also has a pair of wickedly sharp daggers gifted to him by the king, but he wants nothing to do with them. Other: Rintor is quiet and reserved – some would say aloof and subtly arrogant. He never shows his teeth anymore when smiling. He seems to be highly intelligent, though he will rarely correct people's mistakes. He also appears to have little to no interest in women. Though he has tried hard to train it out of himself, he harbours a degree of suspicion towards elves and many near-human beings. Before Rintor went through the portal, the king gifted him his old daggers back and bade him take them through the portal. Rintor could not disobey with so many eyes on him, but he plans to drop them the moment that he steps through, and not just for his own sake. Given his past and his distinctive appearance, I'd assume that he would be known to many of the other characters, at least by name and reputation.</s> <\|message\|>Shel "Surefoot" Applewood Shel was enjoying simply being out in the open world again, if you let your mind drift you could pretty easily forget that you weren't just going for a day hike out to the mountains. There was a certain pleasure to be found just putting one foot in front of the other, feeling your pack shift with every step. Particularly since they were not just trailblazers here but THE trailblazers. This was virgin territory, all of it. The only thing that could make this better would be a nice breeze. Maybe a good stew. The Mithra asked if anyone had seen animals and Zeke replied quickly with a rather astute observation. "That's a good point," Shel said, tilting his head back to help his voice carry while still keeping an eye on the ground below to avoid tripping, "Can't see any sign of other folk out here. Nothing deliberate, nothing purpose built out here. But..." He paused, falling out of sync with the group while he peered about for a second then caught up. "We've covered a decent distance now and I for one haven't seen a sign of any life at all. That is peculiar." He caught up with the group and spoke to them in general but to Zeke in particular, "No deer, no wee little rabbits, or something of the sort, that might make sense. Like ya said, scared off by new sounds and smells and all that." He sniffed at his armpits and scrunched his nose up in mock disgust, "Makes sense it does. What doesn't make sense though?" He gestures all around them, "No birds in the distance, no hawks or crows. No bugs in the grass, or on our clothes or flitting about. No lizards soaking up the heat on these rocks." He pauses for a moment as an idea pops into his head. "Just a minute yeah?" Not waiting for a response he looks about for any large flat rocks in grassy areas. Finding one he kneels in close, looks back towards the group smiling, and slowly lifts the rock up looking under for any signs of life.</s> <\|message\|>Tori, nickname: T @Esailia Tori walks up to Shel, " where do you think they all went,i mean there should at least be bugs" she says. Tori moves her dark blue hair from her face. Tori takes out the bow she packed and an arrow, ' if i can find a bird anywhere even if it's little then i food can be made and we can set up camp' she thought to herself as she looked at the sky. Nothing, nothing at all no birds, bugs or anything. Tori walks around trying to find water maybe there are fish there. " anyone see a pond or something?" she asks out loud. She looks at Shel to see what he is doing. 'hmm' she thinks to herself.</s> <\|message\|>Victor Warnock AKA Vicky, Vic, or V It was dark for a time as the man in the crate slept, the constant cheers of the crowd around this group of intrepid adventures and explorers were only screams melded with fire in the man's mind. What this man saw in his dreams was beautiful at first. Dancing in a meadow, only him and a girl, she was short with fox like brown and red ears and tail, long soft blond hair flowed over her shoulders, deep caring blue eyes pierced his very soul, and the smile she had could warm any man's cold heart. He reached for her grasping toward her beckoning Kind hand, yet his touch turned her to ash and the meadow was swept up with fire until it was all he could see. Suddenly he stood in the center of a burning village, a familiar village, his village. Blood dripped off him and his ax, bodies strewn around him, all with familiar faces and a look of either horror or bewilderment frozen on the corpses, how could this man, their friend, do this? Then swirling through the smoke another man stood his figure imposing over the village like a giant. This man wore a black robe and a cracked red mask that allowed a broken smile to be shown through as he looked at this murderer before him and knew in that instant there was no one left for that man to turn to, to run to, he was in control. The rocking of the cart woke him first and it took him a moment to take in his surroundings, the iron restraints were still on his arms, they allowed limited movement but were loud. The crate he was in was cramped and had items in it that read, at least what he could see, were seeds of some kind. Slowly he attempted to lift the lid, two hinges on one side and a small lock on the other, simple pine wood and iron rivets used in its construction. The sound of voices from outside the wagon made him freeze for a moment, casually he looked through some slits in the wood. Someone was driving the cart and the sky looked orange, "Dusk" he whispered to himself before giving himself a mental situation report and a plan. First off he needed to get out of this crate but doing so will shift the rest of the load that is resting on top of said crate, then what? "Remember that time we got caught in the forest?" a deep dark voice echoed through his mind, "why hello to you too Argor" he whispered quietly. "Child, that time in the forest, break the lock or the crate then jump and roll out the back in one move. Then run and don't look back." The voice was a bit condescending but he had a plan, whatever guards were out there probably thought he was going to be out for a lot longer and were not going to expect him to be awake. So he slowly wrapped his head in what manner he could to cover himself then waited and positioned himself to strike the lock and hinge that kept him in, after a few deep breaths to mentally prepare himself he began his escape. With a loud crack his fist splintered the wood and he pushed the crate open shifting the supply's in the cart, in two steps he was at the back of the cart and with another lunge and a roll he was ready to start sprinting off. But he hesitated he knelt there on the ground his hands feeling the earth beneath him and slowly he stood looking at the earth slipping through his hands. "I don't feel him" he whispered, "neither do i, the presence… its gone" Argor seemed confused. "We are free? WE ARE FREE!" he shouted as he looked to the sky and slowly looked around, "now, where the hell am I?"</s>	<\|message\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir Rintor scowls as he walks. The mountains looming in the near distance seem more arid than they'd looked from afar. It's likely that the party is headed into their rain shadow. Open ground is more defensible with a party this large and unlikely to travel stealthily, but voyaging into the mountains proper is inadvisable. Finding and following a river or stream into he foothills is our best bet. Then there's the startling lack of native fauna that more than one person has observed. Briefly, Rintor adds his voice to the growing chorus of agreement. The halfling and the tall, gangling girl - still half a child - go to investigate, while the half-elf seems eager only for the personal glory of slaying a beast in combat, uncognizant or perhaps uncaring of the fact that hoping to protect others from danger means hoping for it to exist in the first place. All of these little storylines come to a halt before they have the chance to resolve themselves, however, when a sudden, unexpected noise emerges from the depths of the heavily-laden cart. It quickly turns into a man breaking free, supplies tumbling to the ground, and - Rintor does not wait a moment longer. He centers himself, reaches for the threads of light, and grabs them none too gently. Disappearing from view, he sprints toward where the man is leaping from the cart, landing in a roll, and starting to rise. The stowaway pauses, his face becoming pained, pensive, bewildered, and then jubilant in sequence. Then The Blade of Boshir appears in front of him, black-robed and as menacing as he cares to look at this point in his life. "We know no more than you, stranger. Now you had best explain the Who are you, and what the meaning of this intrusion is." He rests his hands on his daggers, feeling a long-forgotten or perhaps long-repressed rush, and quickly clamps down on it again. The consequences would be too great.</s>
<\|description\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir Age: 33 Race: Human (Sub-Saharan African in appearance) Appearance: Rintor is a smallish, very dark-skinned man in his early thirties, wiry but muscular. He has dark grey-brown eyes and is vaguely handsome. However, he suffers from Alopecia Universalis, which renders him completely hairless across his entire body. He usually dresses in a simple black robe, with black leather boots, loose black pants, a handful of fur pelts, and a thick brown leather belt with a trio of leather satchels around his waist. In his youth, he would often wear a mask that covered most of his face. However, he doesn't wear it anymore. Role: Linguist, assassin, scout Bio: Rintor comes from Boshir, a powerful fiefdom in the south, where he was the third son in a family from his country's equivalent of the landed gentry. His father and grandfather had both served with distinction in the king's army as armed scouts in previous conflicts, rising to become commanders. Rintor seemed destined for the same path, and indeed demonstrated considerable aptitude as a child. However, he manifested somewhat unexpected magical abilities upon puberty and was sent for schooling in the arcane arts. He showed little promise with higher magicks, but excelled at what was called 'lightbending', which, in short, allows him to bend the visible light spectrum so as to appear all-but invisible. Before long it appeared that he had reached a dead-end. While lightbending was a useful skill, people who trained at the academy of thaumaturgy were strictly forbidden from using the abilities learned there for violent ends. When war erupted with a neighboring Elven kingdom, Rintor, then only seventeen, remained at the academy. He had flourished during his years there and grown into a thoughtful young man. However, after a year, the military situation turned for the worse, and he was personally pulled out of the academy upon orders of the king and placed into the army as a commissioned officer. Whatever his moral qualms, Rintor served as his father and grandfather had before him. If his swordsmanship was subpar for his station, he had little use for it during scouting missions. However, one can only last for so long in a war without resorting to violence. Forced to kill an enemy scout who would have revealed his army's position, Rintor had shed his first blood. Surrounded by martial culture, his guilt was quickly assuaged. From that point onward, he became the leader of an advance party that quickly became infamous for its lightning strikes, guerilla warfare, and sabotage. His lightbending skills made him almost absurdly effective, and before long Rintor was doing more than scouting. Assassinations came next, followed by long missions deep into enemy territory. His initial moral objections having become a thing of the past, and fed a steady diet of awards, honours, propaganda, and berserker mushrooms, Rintor became a gleeful killing machine. Gifted a pair of finely honed daggers by the king himself, the lightbender's trail of bodies grew until he was feared, revered, and loathed across much of the continent. It became something of a legend that he would always appear out of nowhere a bare moment before striking the fatal blow, smiling like the devil himself. His high (or low) point, came when he infiltrated the bedchambers of the Elven king and murdered him and his entire family in cold blood. This plunged the country into civil war and forced their interim leadership to sue for peace terms. Back home, Rintor was hailed as a hero, but with the war over and the accolades, drugs, and honours drying up, he felt increasingly hollow. He longed for purpose, which he attempted to find in hunting, bloodsport, and horse racing. All were dead ends. The academy had long since severed all ties with him and he was not allowed to return there. At some point, he disappeared from society altogether. Nobody is entirely certain where he went for seven years, but when he reappeared, he was able to speak six new languages and he seemed to have found his peace. He sat outside of the academy in meditation, drinking only one bottle of water each day, for twenty-six days and nights until he was finally granted an audience with the provost. The price that he paid for readmission to the academy was considerable: all of his lands, honours, titles, and possessions save what he had carried with him, as well as a solemn vow of non-violence to be broken upon pain of a degenerative curse that will slowly and painfully cause him to waste away. For the next three years, he ensconced himself within its hallowed halls, re-emerging at around the same time that the opening of the portal was announced. He appeared before the king, dressed in his simple black robes, and requested that he be the first of his nation to step through the portal. Given his status as a war hero, it was a request that could hardly be refused. Nobody knows what his motivation is except for Rintor himself, though one would assume that it has to do with the fascination of exploring a new land and finding redemption in the process. Skills: Rintor can move with the utmost stealth and silence. Even elven ears struggle to detect him. He is almost ridiculously proficient with knives and daggers, though he has sworn never to use them for violence against another sentient being so long as he lives. He is able to draw maps and describe topography in considerable detail, though perhaps not as well as he might've in his youth. He is adept at sabotage, guerilla warfare, and has some tactical abilities, though these are qualities that he tries not to advertise. Rintor is a skilled horseman and reasonably proficient with a bow, though not what one would call 'naturally talented'. He can fast for an extended period of time and possesses basic survival skills. He has an innate ear for languages and has studied linguistics over the prvious handful of years, though he tends to speak with a thick accent. Magic: Rintor is able to bend light so that he blends in flawlessly with his surroundings for extended periods of time when still and short bursts while moving. This effectively makes him able to turn invisible. However, the ability only extends to the visible light spectrum, and requires considerable concentration. He also struggles to blend into backdrops with especially intricate patterns or with many colours and a great deal of motion. Equipment: Rintor has the clothes on his back, a flask of water in one satchel, some parchment and a quill in another, and some dried fruits, jerky, and nuts in another. He also has a pair of wickedly sharp daggers gifted to him by the king, but he wants nothing to do with them. Other: Rintor is quiet and reserved – some would say aloof and subtly arrogant. He never shows his teeth anymore when smiling. He seems to be highly intelligent, though he will rarely correct people's mistakes. He also appears to have little to no interest in women. Though he has tried hard to train it out of himself, he harbours a degree of suspicion towards elves and many near-human beings. Before Rintor went through the portal, the king gifted him his old daggers back and bade him take them through the portal. Rintor could not disobey with so many eyes on him, but he plans to drop them the moment that he steps through, and not just for his own sake. Given his past and his distinctive appearance, I'd assume that he would be known to many of the other characters, at least by name and reputation.</s> <\|message\|>Rhen Rhen mulled the Crimson Marauder's words. Was that Infernal he spoke? Which dialect? The changeling was hardly fluent, but she replied, "Gar cuyir a adiik, Draar ve'ganir o'r ner ara." She ducked her head. "I know I'm not good at your language, but I can learn. And I can offer you companionship in return. My kind understand how badly mortals need touch and connection." She stepped away from him, balancing her book on one hand and dictating the recent occurences. "Most worryingly, the grass has changed colour as the sun set. While similar things have been known in our world, the experts in our party appear quite worried. A lack of animal life in the area gives us ample reason to make for rocky ground." Shutting the book, she took hold of the horses' reins and began to urge them and the cart towards the hill. For all the Crimson Marauder's fearsome reputation, deserved or not, he was still a man. Yes, half his soul was a demon, but her kind had infernal blood in them, yet another reason why changelings lived in the blind spot of society. As Rhen walked, she took care to subtly accentuate her current form in her motions. If the Marauder was watching, his human mind should take notice. And if someone else did, then she might not have to sleep alone anyway.</s> <\|message\|>Numzom Deepfeet (Half-Elven Swordsman) @Esailia@ReusableSword The astronomer patted his shoulder and told him to shut up, or in a more polite way, stop talking. Numzom answered"Okay, i will stop talking, i just want to have a good first impression here, its all ruined, thank you for reminding me". Then he stepped to Esailia and said "Hey, umm, im sorry, about earlier, but you have to stop accusing Victor, i know that Victor has done a lot of bad things to you, but, my best friend, my partner, died to him too, his name was Richie, a human, a great swordsman, even General. Fuorth would send him to the New World if not for his death, i wouldnt be here, again, sorry for earlier". Numzom felt kinda guilty, he just made two people dislike him "Hey, its fine, ive been with you for 6 years now, i may be annoying at first, but, you like me now, dont you?" Numbo said suddenly. "Well, yeah kinda" replied Numzom, while walking with the party to the hills.</s>	<\|message\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir The demon attempts further mockery. Rintor has seen it before. Beings like that thrive on the perceptions of others: the fear that they generate and the notion that they're powerful. Were it not for the magical shackles that he'd willingly put on himself, Rintor would slice the man's neck open in an instant and proceed to kill the demon as well. It isn't about morality, but rather scale of harms. Sometimes , some innocents must die so that more innocents are saved. An odious thought, to be sure, but practical, and the right choice. Rintor can only answer the odd scientist's question with an admission of his own. "I can see colour," he begins, "but I fear I've taxed myself too far with all of this recent lightbending. I'm out of practice, and ironically, temporary colour blindness is one of the first consequences a lightbender suffers when he overextends himself." No need to mention the others yet, and pray I don't encounter them. I am dangerously rusty. "At this point, I'm following the others' lead and trusting in their judgement." He walks quietly, watching, listening, and letting the others sort themselves out. He will have order prevail here even if he has to personally pound it into each and every one of their skulls. There are too many self-important people, hotheads, and liars. He's guilty of being the first himself. The sun is low. Colour starts returning to his world. The grass is strange. He's struck by its appearance. That doesn't mean that it's automatically a threat, but when dealing with an unknown, it's best to minimize your variables. It would be best to reach bare ground. He watches Esailia stalking ahead of the others. For a moment, he's selfishly glad that he comes from a faraway land. Were there more people from the deep south, perhaps he would be as infamous as Victor. Perhaps his past actions would come back to haunt him. Perhaps he would be threatened with death. And he would deserve it. Rintor Otorik divides his attention between his surroundings and the half-elf, who's approaching Esailia and trying to offer some sort of apology. Clueless child, he thinks. All strength and no brains. Surreptitiously, his hands brush the hilts of his daggers and he checks for the threads. It's so much easier - less taxing - for him to lightbend at night. He hopes that he won't have to, but he is ready nonetheless. There is little grass where they are now. The ground rises and falls. The mountains loom overhead, and a thin halo of sunlight crowns the summit of one of the lesser ones.</s>
<\|description\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir Age: 33 Race: Human (Sub-Saharan African in appearance) Appearance: Rintor is a smallish, very dark-skinned man in his early thirties, wiry but muscular. He has dark grey-brown eyes and is vaguely handsome. However, he suffers from Alopecia Universalis, which renders him completely hairless across his entire body. He usually dresses in a simple black robe, with black leather boots, loose black pants, a handful of fur pelts, and a thick brown leather belt with a trio of leather satchels around his waist. In his youth, he would often wear a mask that covered most of his face. However, he doesn't wear it anymore. Role: Linguist, assassin, scout Bio: Rintor comes from Boshir, a powerful fiefdom in the south, where he was the third son in a family from his country's equivalent of the landed gentry. His father and grandfather had both served with distinction in the king's army as armed scouts in previous conflicts, rising to become commanders. Rintor seemed destined for the same path, and indeed demonstrated considerable aptitude as a child. However, he manifested somewhat unexpected magical abilities upon puberty and was sent for schooling in the arcane arts. He showed little promise with higher magicks, but excelled at what was called 'lightbending', which, in short, allows him to bend the visible light spectrum so as to appear all-but invisible. Before long it appeared that he had reached a dead-end. While lightbending was a useful skill, people who trained at the academy of thaumaturgy were strictly forbidden from using the abilities learned there for violent ends. When war erupted with a neighboring Elven kingdom, Rintor, then only seventeen, remained at the academy. He had flourished during his years there and grown into a thoughtful young man. However, after a year, the military situation turned for the worse, and he was personally pulled out of the academy upon orders of the king and placed into the army as a commissioned officer. Whatever his moral qualms, Rintor served as his father and grandfather had before him. If his swordsmanship was subpar for his station, he had little use for it during scouting missions. However, one can only last for so long in a war without resorting to violence. Forced to kill an enemy scout who would have revealed his army's position, Rintor had shed his first blood. Surrounded by martial culture, his guilt was quickly assuaged. From that point onward, he became the leader of an advance party that quickly became infamous for its lightning strikes, guerilla warfare, and sabotage. His lightbending skills made him almost absurdly effective, and before long Rintor was doing more than scouting. Assassinations came next, followed by long missions deep into enemy territory. His initial moral objections having become a thing of the past, and fed a steady diet of awards, honours, propaganda, and berserker mushrooms, Rintor became a gleeful killing machine. Gifted a pair of finely honed daggers by the king himself, the lightbender's trail of bodies grew until he was feared, revered, and loathed across much of the continent. It became something of a legend that he would always appear out of nowhere a bare moment before striking the fatal blow, smiling like the devil himself. His high (or low) point, came when he infiltrated the bedchambers of the Elven king and murdered him and his entire family in cold blood. This plunged the country into civil war and forced their interim leadership to sue for peace terms. Back home, Rintor was hailed as a hero, but with the war over and the accolades, drugs, and honours drying up, he felt increasingly hollow. He longed for purpose, which he attempted to find in hunting, bloodsport, and horse racing. All were dead ends. The academy had long since severed all ties with him and he was not allowed to return there. At some point, he disappeared from society altogether. Nobody is entirely certain where he went for seven years, but when he reappeared, he was able to speak six new languages and he seemed to have found his peace. He sat outside of the academy in meditation, drinking only one bottle of water each day, for twenty-six days and nights until he was finally granted an audience with the provost. The price that he paid for readmission to the academy was considerable: all of his lands, honours, titles, and possessions save what he had carried with him, as well as a solemn vow of non-violence to be broken upon pain of a degenerative curse that will slowly and painfully cause him to waste away. For the next three years, he ensconced himself within its hallowed halls, re-emerging at around the same time that the opening of the portal was announced. He appeared before the king, dressed in his simple black robes, and requested that he be the first of his nation to step through the portal. Given his status as a war hero, it was a request that could hardly be refused. Nobody knows what his motivation is except for Rintor himself, though one would assume that it has to do with the fascination of exploring a new land and finding redemption in the process. Skills: Rintor can move with the utmost stealth and silence. Even elven ears struggle to detect him. He is almost ridiculously proficient with knives and daggers, though he has sworn never to use them for violence against another sentient being so long as he lives. He is able to draw maps and describe topography in considerable detail, though perhaps not as well as he might've in his youth. He is adept at sabotage, guerilla warfare, and has some tactical abilities, though these are qualities that he tries not to advertise. Rintor is a skilled horseman and reasonably proficient with a bow, though not what one would call 'naturally talented'. He can fast for an extended period of time and possesses basic survival skills. He has an innate ear for languages and has studied linguistics over the prvious handful of years, though he tends to speak with a thick accent. Magic: Rintor is able to bend light so that he blends in flawlessly with his surroundings for extended periods of time when still and short bursts while moving. This effectively makes him able to turn invisible. However, the ability only extends to the visible light spectrum, and requires considerable concentration. He also struggles to blend into backdrops with especially intricate patterns or with many colours and a great deal of motion. Equipment: Rintor has the clothes on his back, a flask of water in one satchel, some parchment and a quill in another, and some dried fruits, jerky, and nuts in another. He also has a pair of wickedly sharp daggers gifted to him by the king, but he wants nothing to do with them. Other: Rintor is quiet and reserved – some would say aloof and subtly arrogant. He never shows his teeth anymore when smiling. He seems to be highly intelligent, though he will rarely correct people's mistakes. He also appears to have little to no interest in women. Though he has tried hard to train it out of himself, he harbours a degree of suspicion towards elves and many near-human beings. Before Rintor went through the portal, the king gifted him his old daggers back and bade him take them through the portal. Rintor could not disobey with so many eyes on him, but he plans to drop them the moment that he steps through, and not just for his own sake. Given his past and his distinctive appearance, I'd assume that he would be known to many of the other characters, at least by name and reputation.</s> <\|message\|>Tori, nickname: T @Esailia Tori nodded at Esailia and then waved Numzom, " Just some ham i cooked it before we left, also It's nice to meet you I'm Tori" she said, a slight smile on her face. She handed her offering of food to Numzom. Tori was happy to share.</s> <\|message\|>Victor Warnock AKA Vicky, Vic, or V He would not lead them instead followed, taking the quiet change in pace to slowly bend one of the chain links back and forth. It did not take him long until he heard a metallic snap as the weak link he was working snapped in half, "finally" Argor whispered. He was still wearing the iron cuffs but no longer worried about having to have his arms chained together. The changeling was still following him, occasionally in front or behind or at his side. Slowly learning how to mimic his movements was odd for him at first but slowly turned to annoyance, yet somehow he seemed a bit proud that she was mimicking him or at the very least happy to have an admirer. "So you gonna let me out then?" Victor's voice sounded tired or annoyed Argor couldn't tell, "No its getting dark and unlike you I can see in the dark remember. Besides our deal stands, you sleep while I'm up through the night so I can sleep through the day." A silent huff was all he got before Victors voice trailed off, "don't kill anyone please." the demon laughed, "Why would I? I'm free now, free to make my own choices and demands." He sighed as they finally reached the grass less hill the girl who had a problem with him was still glaring at him but seemed to have regained her composure. She was setting up a lighted perimeter that messed with his eyes ever so slightly, just enough to be bothersome. At first, he seemed to not know what to do simply standing around and watching the going on of the others. However, after the carriage had stopped he found himself wondering, "did they pack it I wounder?" his curiosity growing he set to work sifting through the belongings in the cart, being careful to avoid the horse as it eyed him warily. Horses never liked him even trained ones would try to get away. Soon with his sifting and rummaging through personal belongings he began to find carpenter supplies, he was getting close. "Where are you dear friend? It has been some time since we last met." the demon spoke into the pile until he finally stopped pulling out a three-foot wooden crate, "I found you old friend!" a wicked smile crossed his face as he greedily pulled the crate apart. Slowly and gently he retrieved an ax from the broken crate. The bearded lumber ax was about three feet long and glimmered even with the low light. The wooden curved handle was splattered in red that faded to a dark red towards the head of the ax. With careful inspection one would still find small hairs around the ax head. Securing the ax to his hip he slid out of the cart and out to the edge of the camp. He stayed out of the light on the opposite side of the camp from the flute playing girl. Argor had many things to figure out, first off was what he truly wanted he was free now after all. He could sense the changeling nearby, she was at least within ear shot of him. "I'm sure you have plenty of questions girl. For now the boy slumbers so this conversation will be private" sitting with his legs crossed in front of him. He sat near the edge of the grass one blade of grass seemed separated from the rest. With curious intent the man takes out his ax and carefully cuts his pinky finger ever so carefully to allow a single drop of blood to fall on the blade of grass. Still, the man stared off into the darkness watching the black and white landscape roll on out to the horizon. "At least its peaceful here... for now." @Regitnui</s> <\|message\|>Rhen Wearing one shape for so long was starting to feel confining, but Rhen doubted any of her companions would be willing to let her strip down and stretch. Whenever she had to hold a form for more than a few hours, she started wondering how the other races did so. Her shoulders ached, her chin felt too narrow and she could swear her vision was going blue from holding one colour for too long. Perhaps most annoying was that little pit of fear in the bottom of her stomach that came from staying around any group too long. That fear they'd know she was a changeling and chase her away. But that was ridiculous, irrational, since she'd openly presented herself as a changeling. Still... She looked over at the man at the edge of the camp. Demon, human, famous persona, she still wanted to know him. She stopped a pace away from him and forced herself to think of an appropriately formal greeting, but in the end only managed, "Ibic solus tionir ara'novor?" She wasn't used to speaking like a child. Her infernal needed serious work. "Great and powerful Argor," she added.</s> <\|message\|>Shel "Surefoot" Applewood Shel sees what Victor/Argor is up to and is reminded of their situation. No life in the skies, no life in the grass, no life under the rocks, and the grass undergoing some sort of change. A bit of blood, fresh blood, is a good idea but Shel has something better. Though she has played beautifully Shel trots away from the Mithra, eager to help test the grass. He stops at his bag and retrieves a piece of waxy paper with a bit of leftover meat and as he approaches the changeling and the demon/murderer/stowaway he squeezes the package repeatedly to get the fluids moving. "That's a good idea," he says to Victor/Argor, "Might need more than blood though." He unfolds the wax paper and pulls the now mashed and sopping meat, stretching it out to make it seem larger. "Here goes nothing," he says throwing it out a ways into the curious grass.</s>	<\|message\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir Things have gone quiet, eerily so. No crickets, no bullfrogs, no owls - nothing. You don't realize what a role they play in making the night until they're missing from it. Rintor sits on a small, rocky promontory. Above is a blanket of stars in constellations that he does not know. In the near distance is a flickering bonfire with a group of people gathered around it. The sounds of soft music and of their conversation drift up towards him, but he is not much concerned with that. There are good people here, and others who care only for themselves, who will poison this bold experiment more surely than hemlock. Of that he is certain. Of the fact that he will not leave this world, he is equally certain. Rintor begins walking. The threads are harder to find by night, but it is so much easier to massage them into the shapes that he needs. The travelers and all of their tumult fade away with the passing of each step. Rintor Otorik grabs a hold of the light and disappears.</s>
<\|description\|>Victor Warnock AKA Vicky, Vic, or V Age: 26 Race: Cursed Human Appearance: Victor stands at 6'0'' and weighs just over 230Lbs. with an average muscular build. He has orange hair and yellow eyes, ceremonial tattoos are scrawled across his body giving off a slight orange glow at all times, like the light from a single candle. He wears a long headscarf and baggy clothing to hide the glow and his rather infamous face. Role: Carpenter and lumberjack. Bio: Victor had a rather normal and simple life growing up. Being raised in a small village far from the hustle and bustle of the city, this village was surrounded by thick forests and the occasional old ruin. His father was a carpenter and his mother a cook, they raised him to know how to read and write. The father teaching the boy how to find and cut trees into lumber and usable pieces, his mother always making sure he was fed and knew how to cook for himself. It wasn't long before he took a liking to one of the local girls, Sara Frostfire a Kitsune whose family were the local healers. For a time he was happy, a young strong boy with a very lovely kitsune he was on the verge of marrying who wouldn't be happy. Alas, things were not to last, one special night he took his soon to be bride deep into the forest to a special place. A small hot spring, light from the full moon shown down into the light blue pool. This was to be their first time alone, to just be enveloped in each other's company yet someone had other plans. They were followed by others wearing red hoods and black masks, in an instant they were surrounded and subdued before being knocked unconscious, The last thing he remembers is Sara's screams. He woke confused and frightened in a large old room, his hands were bound and he had a gag in his mouth. Candles and moon light filled the room with enough light to show strange and old runes spread across the ceiling, walls and floor. The runes that were engraved around him were filled with a red viscus liquid, this place was old, felt old, smelled old with only the sound of a slight dripping somewhere around him and his own breathing. He didn't see them at first, the hooded figures that stood so quiet and still around the circular room not until one stepped out wearing an entirely black robe and red featureless mask. This Man spoke first then the others followed, they spoke a language he did not understand and somehow it hurt him to hear it. Victor writhed in pain his only thought was to desperately search for his love. The chanting didn't stop and some hooded figures soon began focusing their magic towards the center, not on him but towards the runes on the floor around him and then slowly they all began to do so. The pain… the pain… pain… pain… his thoughts were drowned out he could hear screaming he tried to see who was screaming but noticed he couldn't see anything, only darkness. He woke in that chamber, he could see but he was taller and his field of view had changed he could see more now than before yet he was kneeling. When he tried to stand nothing happened, he couldn't move or talk and what movements he did make were involuntary as if he was only watching and listening as something else controlled him. The mage that began the chant stood before him and spoke, "Argor, The Blood Demon, your payment has been fulfilled with the blood of a virgin and the soul of another. I am your new master you will obey your master, you will obey me. Now go Argor and spread my terror and will across the country side." For the next four years to come Victor had to bear witness to the crimes he was being hunted for, terrible things that left him broken. He was able to find Sara again her body had been ravaged and bled dry, he figured that her blood was the red liquid at the ritual and all he did was buried her and take the ring he gave her. It took them 4 years, 4 long and bloody years to capture him and take him to court. The local lord a man driven by justice and superstition was his judge, then something unexpected happened someone got it into the lord's head that if he were to kill victor it could release the demon bound to him into this world. Yet to please the public and their unrest he told them he was going to destroy this man and the beast within. Victor didn't care no punishment was harsh enough, no jest, insult, or question broke his concentration on the two plain gold rings he held in his hands. And yet he was subdued and put to sleep by a mage's spell. Now it seems the lord simply wanted to get rid of the man and banish him to the new world by locking him in a crate and placing it in with the food supply that was to go with the expedition team, thus brushing his problem under the rug. Skills: Other than what is expected of his profession building and lumber gathering, Victor is rather skilled in cooking and foraging, as well as basic farming and medicine with a bit of singing and playing musical instruments put in. With living in the forest for so long his survival skills are quite good and if necessary he can defend himself from wild animals but does not like violence. Magic: Aside from his curse Victor has no magical aptitude to the point that even enchanted or magic items are simply mundane in his hands, this may be a byproduct of the demon taking whatever magic he has. The Curse: By means of old magic, Victor is soul bound to a demon named Argor. Lately he has been able to control his transitions and although he has no control over the demon yet it seems to know friend from foe. This binding has given Victor slightly improved stamina and strength compared to normal humans. The Demon: Argor is a Sadistic cruel creature that has an aptitude for Combat, violence, And bloodshed. Two things change when he takes control of Victor, the first is his eyes turn completely black by unknown means and the second and more noticeable is the color of his tattoos change from yellowish orange to a dark red. This change can be sudden and happens randomly or when Victor is emotionally compromised. However, Being that he is in a separate realm from the mage that summoned him, Argor now has free will of his actions. Equipment: Other than his carpentry equipment, shovel, pick, ax, saw, hand drill, hammer, nails, knife, Etc… he has nothing other than two golden rings he wears with a simple metal chain around his neck and his unusual baggy clothes. Argor prefers to use the lumber axe when in combat. Other: If you get him to talk about his past which he is still reconciling, consider yourself lucky he doesn't like talking about his past. Also the demon isn't a silent bystander and does talk to Victor, where Victor might just seem like hes having an argument or talking to himself to others. Also Victor is known to some as the "Crimson Marauder" for his murder spree and the destruction he has caused.</s> <\|message\|>Zeke @Esailia Zeke smiled in response to Rhen, though it was only a courtesy. Affected since birth by monochromatism, Zeke was completely unable to distinguish any color. He only knew of color from the words of others, though was never able to grasp the concept. As such, he often forgot entirely of its existence, as was the case here. To him, it seemed as though the shadows on the changeling's face and hair shifted to the other side, with the occasional dark band in between. He tried to hide his confusion, but honestly Zeke had no idea what he was looking at. Instead, he focused on Rhen's words. They were indeed correct about him not being interested in girls, though he didn't really care to mention that. Unfortunately, he had already revealed it by failing to recognize the flirtatious nature of the changeling's smile. "Well-" he realized, too late. "Erm." He decided against saying something else, and instead maintained a prolonged silence. Good job. You were not only unsuccessful in conversing with the changeling, but you've also made yourself into an awkward fool. Congratulations. Zeke touched the tip of his nose with the knuckle of his index finger. Well, maybe so, but this is normal behavior in this regard. If anything, it makes me look more relatable. Perhaps. He continued working at the wood, vaguely paying attention to what the others were saying. "Maybe there are no animals because a large group of strange people just appeared from a foreign magical device," he muttered. Magic was viable here, since the portal could bridge and Rhen had obviously just used it, but that didn't mean that magic was actually an aspect of this world. What if they had introduced it by coming here? From what Zeke knew, magic could be self-contained, so this was entirely possible. And were there humanoids here to begin with? Then he had another idea, one so profound and probable that it actually made him stop walking. The only form of life they had seen were plants. What if this was a relatively new ecosystem? These grasses would be the pioneer species, unable to support more than one or two tropic levels in a food web. He knelt to feel the ground. The soil was rough, which could indicate rocks had been recently broken down. The grass was the same way, a hardy species adapted for survival. It made perfect sense. Zeke scanned the horizon - there were a few flowers and trees, but not many; the next stage of succession was underway. It fit too well. His heart pounded loudly, he couldn't breathe. Was it the truth? Would he be able to study a fresh, uncontaminated ecosystem? But as he examined the mountains, Zeke released his breath in dismay. They were sedimentary, clearly eroded over time by wind or water or dust. They were not very tall. What reason would there be for old mountains to be near young plants? Unless it was the erosion of the mountains that helped create the soil? He thought furiously, though didn't have an immediate answer.</s> <\|message\|>Shel "Surefoot" Applewood Shel was enjoying simply being out in the open world again, if you let your mind drift you could pretty easily forget that you weren't just going for a day hike out to the mountains. There was a certain pleasure to be found just putting one foot in front of the other, feeling your pack shift with every step. Particularly since they were not just trailblazers here but THE trailblazers. This was virgin territory, all of it. The only thing that could make this better would be a nice breeze. Maybe a good stew. The Mithra asked if anyone had seen animals and Zeke replied quickly with a rather astute observation. "That's a good point," Shel said, tilting his head back to help his voice carry while still keeping an eye on the ground below to avoid tripping, "Can't see any sign of other folk out here. Nothing deliberate, nothing purpose built out here. But..." He paused, falling out of sync with the group while he peered about for a second then caught up. "We've covered a decent distance now and I for one haven't seen a sign of any life at all. That is peculiar." He caught up with the group and spoke to them in general but to Zeke in particular, "No deer, no wee little rabbits, or something of the sort, that might make sense. Like ya said, scared off by new sounds and smells and all that." He sniffed at his armpits and scrunched his nose up in mock disgust, "Makes sense it does. What doesn't make sense though?" He gestures all around them, "No birds in the distance, no hawks or crows. No bugs in the grass, or on our clothes or flitting about. No lizards soaking up the heat on these rocks." He pauses for a moment as an idea pops into his head. "Just a minute yeah?" Not waiting for a response he looks about for any large flat rocks in grassy areas. Finding one he kneels in close, looks back towards the group smiling, and slowly lifts the rock up looking under for any signs of life.</s> <\|message\|>Tori, nickname: T @Esailia Tori walks up to Shel, " where do you think they all went,i mean there should at least be bugs" she says. Tori moves her dark blue hair from her face. Tori takes out the bow she packed and an arrow, ' if i can find a bird anywhere even if it's little then i food can be made and we can set up camp' she thought to herself as she looked at the sky. Nothing, nothing at all no birds, bugs or anything. Tori walks around trying to find water maybe there are fish there. " anyone see a pond or something?" she asks out loud. She looks at Shel to see what he is doing. 'hmm' she thinks to herself.</s>	<\|message\|>Victor Warnock AKA Vicky, Vic, or V It was dark for a time as the man in the crate slept, the constant cheers of the crowd around this group of intrepid adventures and explorers were only screams melded with fire in the man's mind. What this man saw in his dreams was beautiful at first. Dancing in a meadow, only him and a girl, she was short with fox like brown and red ears and tail, long soft blond hair flowed over her shoulders, deep caring blue eyes pierced his very soul, and the smile she had could warm any man's cold heart. He reached for her grasping toward her beckoning Kind hand, yet his touch turned her to ash and the meadow was swept up with fire until it was all he could see. Suddenly he stood in the center of a burning village, a familiar village, his village. Blood dripped off him and his ax, bodies strewn around him, all with familiar faces and a look of either horror or bewilderment frozen on the corpses, how could this man, their friend, do this? Then swirling through the smoke another man stood his figure imposing over the village like a giant. This man wore a black robe and a cracked red mask that allowed a broken smile to be shown through as he looked at this murderer before him and knew in that instant there was no one left for that man to turn to, to run to, he was in control. The rocking of the cart woke him first and it took him a moment to take in his surroundings, the iron restraints were still on his arms, they allowed limited movement but were loud. The crate he was in was cramped and had items in it that read, at least what he could see, were seeds of some kind. Slowly he attempted to lift the lid, two hinges on one side and a small lock on the other, simple pine wood and iron rivets used in its construction. The sound of voices from outside the wagon made him freeze for a moment, casually he looked through some slits in the wood. Someone was driving the cart and the sky looked orange, "Dusk" he whispered to himself before giving himself a mental situation report and a plan. First off he needed to get out of this crate but doing so will shift the rest of the load that is resting on top of said crate, then what? "Remember that time we got caught in the forest?" a deep dark voice echoed through his mind, "why hello to you too Argor" he whispered quietly. "Child, that time in the forest, break the lock or the crate then jump and roll out the back in one move. Then run and don't look back." The voice was a bit condescending but he had a plan, whatever guards were out there probably thought he was going to be out for a lot longer and were not going to expect him to be awake. So he slowly wrapped his head in what manner he could to cover himself then waited and positioned himself to strike the lock and hinge that kept him in, after a few deep breaths to mentally prepare himself he began his escape. With a loud crack his fist splintered the wood and he pushed the crate open shifting the supply's in the cart, in two steps he was at the back of the cart and with another lunge and a roll he was ready to start sprinting off. But he hesitated he knelt there on the ground his hands feeling the earth beneath him and slowly he stood looking at the earth slipping through his hands. "I don't feel him" he whispered, "neither do i, the presence… its gone" Argor seemed confused. "We are free? WE ARE FREE!" he shouted as he looked to the sky and slowly looked around, "now, where the hell am I?"</s>
<\|description\|>Sterling Richard Dewitt In this world, there's two kinds of people: those with loaded guns, and those who dig. You dig. --- Gender: Male Age: Thirty seven. Occupation: Bounty Hunter Family: Thomas Archibald Dewitt - Father - Deceased (died of a heart attack approximately one year ago) - Sixty three at death Marion Claudia Dewitt (nee Wright) - Mother - Alive (living in Boston) - Fifty nine. Henry Theodore Dewitt - Brother - Alive (living in Boston, plans on moving out West) - Twenty eight. Accompanied By: Orson, his trusty steed. Orson is an American Paint Horse. Equipment: Remington New Model Army Revolver (in holster on belt), Moore & Co. coach gun (in knapsack on back), Bowie knife (in holster on right boot), canteen (half-empty, in sling around shoulder), and a rope (never know when you need rope! In knapsack). Skills: Sterling is a seasoned gunfighter, an excellent horse rider, is rather intimidating and has some basic knowledge of herbs (I.E. he can tell if something is poisonous or not, but nothing beyond that). Personality: A stoic, callous man who prefers to shoot first and ask questions later. He doesn't care much for social conventions, instead saying things as they are or just not saying anything at all. Despite coming from a Catholic family, he is an Atheist. He is also an asexual, as he believes that any romance would distract him from what's really important: turning bounty heads over to police and getting a fat stack of cash. Despite his rough and tough exterior, if one were to work very hard, they could get close to him and he could consider them a friend. That, or you can just buy him a bunch of drinks. An easy way to tell if he's close to someone is if he talks to them for more than necessary (I.E., adding social niceties to the conversation). Well, that or he's drunk. Backstory: Will add later.</s> <\|message\|>Jessamine Marie Courtwright - everyone calls her Jessie. The day started just as it usually did in the town of Wrathlake; the same shops opened, the same people shouted out their morning greetings as they trudged along the dusty path, and the same carriages rumbled down the tracks. The only thing different was a single fluttering sheet of paper positioned just outside of the general store. It wasn't in the usual place of the wanted posters, so it couldn't have been one of them - instead, it read: MISSING : twelve men and counting. Treasure hunters - last seen leaving Wrathlake nine days ago. Families worried. REWARD: $130 Now, Wrathlake is not a particularly literate place - so many locals could be seen squinting and mouthing the words printed in large black letters on the peice of paper alongside twelve drawings of the missing treasure hunters. Missing people were not uncommon, but twelve was unheard of. Could this have to do with the famous lost riches of Wrathlake? One things for sure: it was drawing quite a crowd.</s> <\|message\|>Samuel Ulysses Grein Samuel strode out of a saloon, and joined the gathering crowd. He pushed past people, struggling to get to the front. The strange cloak and rifle helped. Some people stared, but most ignored him. "One hundred thirty dollars? Seems worth it." Samuel of course, was in a bit of a predicament. He needed the money, but he didn't know how to bring people living. He was mostly a killer, but he could accustom to the idea. He could use his usual tracking skills, work his way among the crime land to find rumors, see if it was coincidence or if some bandits had taken them away. Of course, they would most likely be dead if bandits took them, but surely Samuel would get the money. He shrugged and walked back to his horse, his grey cloak covering the top half of his face, keeping his red hair hidden.</s>	<\|message\|>Sterling Richard Dewitt (This post WAS supposed to take place after his backstory, but you know how that turned out points at OOC. Also, you do know that 135 dollars then would be worth something like four thousand dollars now, right?) A hangover. Great. Sterling pushed himself off the ground, clutching his head and looking around for his canteen. He found it, quickly unscrewing his canteen and downing half of it in one swig. He'd have to fill it back up later, but at least he still had some in it. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in his room in the hotel in town, which was scarcely decorated as it was a rare occurrence for him to be there to do more than sleep or bathe. With a sigh, Sterling threw on his holster and slung his canteen around his shoulder, assuring that his revolver was in a place that could be easily accessed, also noting to himself that he should refill the canteen. He didn't take his knapsack, as he most likely didn't need it or the items in it. He didn't need to tie up a bounty head and there definitely wouldn't be a gunfight at eight in the morning. Or at least he thinks it's eight in the morning... Anyhow, he walks outside. He saw a group of people crowding around something, and he squeezed his way into the crowd. He saw the poster, which he could make out but not easily (despite growing up in Boston and having some education, reading was never his style). It was something about missing men, and the reward was... Holy shit. That reward could keep Sterling fed for months, no, YEARS. Not to mention he could buy enough booze to put Cooter Brown to shame. Without a second thought, he looked around on the poster for any names so he could ask their family where the men were going when they left town, so he could follow in that general direction and pray to find them. Then again, if they had left town over a week ago, they'd probably be long gone... If they were still alive, that is.</s>
<\|description\|>Alejandra Jones Age: 27 Date Of Death: April 23, 2001 don't mind the ear piercings. Height: 5'7" Weight: 146 Method of Death: Bled to death after being shot several times by her fiance Bio: Alejandra was born the third child to a peasant family in El Salvador. Her childhood consisted of trying to survive under the violence of the government. When her father would suggest the family in immigrating to the United states, all would find it safer and practical in living there than being killed under a death squad. While she and her siblings would be introduced to public schooling, she would pick up on music. Alejandra became fond of the cello and would excel at playing it throughout the years. Once her family would become financially stable, they provided her extra lessons that would strengthen her skill. Her talent and motivation in playing had brought her scholarships to great colleges, a dream being closer at reach. During her high school years, Alejandra was well known for having multiple relationships which she would constantly switch from. One she would end up staying with during the late junior year and found that she had deeply loved him. There was a tense pause in their relationship in their late senior year. During this time, her lover was jealous of her luck with getting scholarships to a first rate colleges while he would be doomed in paying tuition. With being very possessive over her, the situation would result in him following her in order to make sure she kept faith. As time went on, Alejandra and her lover would graduate from college. But with his debts were Piled up, she would assist in paying them. This had deeply damaged their relationship as he would be dependent on her while he would struggle to find a job. As Alejandra would be involved with more people, her lover would ask her hand in marriage out of jealousy. While her status grew larger in difference to him, he became obsessed in trying to match up to her. Many times they would fight, she would seek refuge among others, though it would only prove to fuel the situation. It was until she would be consoled by one of her male coworkers in getting advice in reconciliation, where her fiance would ultimately try to shoot at the his "rival", however would miss and fatally wound Alejandra. Greatest Love: Her favorite instrument, the cello Greatest Fear: Not being able to finish what she started Stunning Weapon: OTs-38 Stechkin silent revolver "Silence accents music, its what makes it beautiful" Sealing Weapon: Machete</s> <\|message\|>Charlie Jones Charlie took Jervis' message with a modicum of distaste. When it came to being treated like a kid, he was fine with being coddled, but hated having his actions restricted due to his age. If it had been anyone other than Jervis telling him this, he might have been snarkier. A rebellious part of him wanted to just smash a window and take a car out for a dangerous and chaotic joyride. However, Charlie had no knowledge of cars, let alone how to hotwire one. But if he was at least being given the right to choose their vehicle, then by golly, he would take it. So Charlie wandered the streets, passing by cheap cars, expensive cars, big cars, small cars, slow cars, fast cars; he maybe took a little longer than the other seven probably would have liked, but he was on a mission. There's gotta be one around here, somewhere, Charlie thought to himself, and then he saw it: Some car hobbyists prized possession, an antique form that Charlie was much more comfortable with. He walked up to the car, admiring it, and looked around to see if he could locate the owner anywhere. He couldn't. Smiling, Charlie walked over to the side mirror, making sure no one was around for the moment, and looked at himself. "Randy." Flashing back into the Deadly Room, Charlie picked up the files that he hadn't been able to read yet, but instead of perusing them, looked eagerly at the large screen, hoping that Randy wouldn't subvert his choice and go for another vehicle.</s> <\|message\|>Jonathan II Jones The driving, the chase, this brought back memories. You see, Jonathan wasn't the perfect husband and there was a lot of "marital conflict" in the family, though it leaned more towards one sided abuse. So there was no surprise when his wife wanted to leave him. He always remembered her first attempt, the first and the last as he made sure to engrave a lesson on what happens when a property runs from its owner. The whole thing was gruesome. It began when his wife left the bed one night, not to return, and upon waking up by the powerful engine of his car he noticed her absence. Before he even had a chance to get up the car roared as it dashed forward, through the estate gate and into the road. "That bitch dared to leave him?"- were his rage fueled thoughts. "Properties should know their fucking place"- he continued in a murmur. Without wearing anything else beside his bed robe, he hopped into his other car and gave chase immediately. The girl was full of adrenaline, anxious, scared but at last she almost felt released by that man's horrid grasp. To feel truly free she would have to get out of his property, which was considerably large mind you. Now to understand what happens next you have to understand the road she was following. The manor was at the top of a hill which ended in a cliff at one side and a forest in the other. This road snaked from one side of the hill to the other, slithering through the forest until it reached the bottom. Now here's what Jonathan did… Looking back one more time the girl felt a little relief that she wasn't followed. That relief was short lived. The faint sound of an engine could be heard coming from the forest that lead to the mansion. The sound only continued to grow as lights could now be seen piercing through the forest flora. The bushes rustled for a moment then.. "It can't be.. He's not tha-" VROOM The car leaped from the high ground crashing straight to the other one. Both people were sent flying but luckily for Jonathan he was thrown out during the jump, the momentum carrying him over to the other side of the road and into the greenery which softened his fall. Not so luckily for his wife property which lay bleeding on the ground with a piece of metal protruding through the side of her abdomen. "Sir, are you alright?"- one of the guards while towering above Jonathan's semi unconscious form. "ha..hehe..AHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA cough cough more pained laughter"- Jonathan had broken into a frenzied laughter only stopped by the sharp pain at his side. Probably a few broken ribs, otherwise just minor injuries. The main thing was that the lesson was learned, learned and forever engraved in her mind and body. And learn she did, as she learned to kill him instead of running….Good memories. Getting back to the present he continued: "You got taste kid, now let's see if our Randy has any skill in driving."- he remarked after finally raising up his head from the files. He got a particular.. rush when reading Marina's file, Dolly coming second. He would definitely love tormenting those girls, how he would take his sweet time with them. Walking for the couch, he leaped from the back to land in a sitting position. Making himself comfortable with his bottle of whisky as a pacifier he observed Randy while in anticipation of the moment when he would break those girls.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail "Abbey" Jones Abigail had to cease her bar stool spinning antics as people continued to pop in and out of existence around her. She hadn't been with the Deadly Eight long, so the antics of everyone switching in and out of one body definitely got her head spinning. The whole experience was almost a bit surreal to her, or perhaps that was just the vibe Jervis was going for with the jazzy, lounge-esque Deadly Room. Abigail set the targets' files down at this point. She never was too adept at the art of preplanning. The way she rolled, the only thing she prepared was plans to blow things up. Her logic worked much better under the threat of gunfire. Or at least, that's what Abigail thought. Maybe she was just lazy. For a moment, Abigail intently watched Jervis as he spoke through the phone to Charlie. That phone definitely brought back halcyon memories of Abigail's first few months in the Deadly Room. Oh how fun it had been to toy with the assassins during their missions, and oh how sad she was when Jervis then disallowed her from further using the phone. That was definitely one detail that most of her comrades would have picked up about Abigail: She almost never took anything seriously around here. Life er-... Unlife was all a game to Abigail. "Well that's an interesting choice..." Speaking to no one in particular, Abigail's eyes traced the vintage vehicle that Charlie chose. She had some experience with cars, but none at all with this sort. It was also probably worth mentioning that most of Abigail's experience with vehicles revolved around either destroying them, using them to destroy other things, or getaway driving. Abigail definitely had a... unique skill set. "It looks like it couldn't even breach fifty miles an hour. Let's hope nothing goes wrong during the mission... Our escape might crumble to dust when we need it." The girl gave a short chuckle continuing to watch, though as Charlie switched places with Randy, Abigail's demeanor seemed to change near instantaneously. A smile crossed her face, her eyes came alight with a certain glow of excitement, and her posture perked up to make her look more presentable. "Ah Charlie! Welcome back! Perfect execution of an escape as usual, and not to mention the lovely choice of vehicle. My compliments to your contribution as always!" Her voice was soft, almost baby-ish. Abigail was always so allured by the young assassin's delicate and charming appearance. Of course, Abigail completely disregarded any sort of flaws she saw in Charlie. He was too perfect for those. She continued her shower of praise for a moment longer whether Charlie was listening or not. This had no doubt become a common occurrence, happening nearly every conversation Abigail had with Charlie ever since she was brought to the Deadly Room.</s> <\|message\|>Charlie Jones Since he met Abigail, Charlie had treated her in a hot-and-cold manner; sometimes putting up with her doting, other times rejecting it. Neither reaction seemed to change her behavior, so he decided that this time, he would just play along. "I did good, didn't I, Abby?" Charlie said, flashing her a self-satisfied smile and making himself approachable. Of course, he knew very well that he was bullshitting; all he had done was wander out onto the streets and look at a car, but he wanted to play himself up, knowing that by encouraging Abigail, and by being an insufferable little prick and exaggerating his own contributions, the two of them would probably annoy the Hell out of the others, and that was Charlie's favorite pastime. Flipping through the dossiers, he zeroed in on their current target that the others had chosen in his brief absence. The first thing he noticed was the age, and a look of disgust passed very quickly over his face. While he hated adults, he could stand teenagers and young adults even less. he saw them as hypocrites, wannabe adults who abandoned their honesty as children to become the liars that grownups were. Going through the rest, he noticed all of the them were more-or-less in their teens, with on being 21, but then the last one was his age; and there was no information on her. He smirked, and figured this case might be interesting after all.</s>	<\|message\|>Alejandra Jones "Very well," she replied to the decision. "Now to the Sparks… " There was a slight relief that came over her as the target was chosen, then after left confused on to why she felt that. Am I… anxious? Missions were truly a thrill to execute and targets weren't too much to handle. But, had the hunt finally got to her? What was so different from this case from the other cases? She massaged her temple and sighed, thinking too much doesn't help anyway. Lifting her head, Alejandra couldn't help but listen to the grumbling of her partner latina, Raissa. Training the ear did have its benefits as a skill, though she would hate being accused of being nosy or intrusive. She chuckled at the odd rambling, seeing how quite well their personalities contrasted but didn't seem to clash when in conversation. At least she served as a good distraction. Alejandra looked back to the large monitor in curiosity on to which vehicle they would drive. The choice was admirable, its appearance seeming to be polished to a shine with great care. "Es una pena," she sighed. She hoped the owner would be able to find it… in one piece. Sure, she could trust Randy with the wheel better than the others, but what more of this ghost's driving? She was set on getting the job done quickly. Though the many worries of the task at hand, she was still intrigued the old vehicle. Never once had she seen such an antique in her lifetime, she being the newest of the eight. The most she had seen of a vehicle were her homeland's artillery trucks that would constantly raid and kill the indigenous and peasants on a common basis. On foot, Alejandra had crossed the Mexican border with her family, never then owning a car until she and her siblings earned enough money to afford one. Due to her then inexperience, she'd hire others to drive for her in fear she'd hurt herself. "One of these days..." she murmured in dissatisfaction.</s>
<\|description\|>Randy Jones Age: 29 Date Of Death: 1992 Height: 5'4" Weight: 135 lb. Method of Death: Getting stabbed in the neck with his own fountain pen. Bio: Randy was always a romantic. Ever since he was a child, he loved reading classic romances from authors like Jane Austen, Shakespeare, and the Brontes. The kind of books that he would've totally been bullied for reading if anyone had found out he liked them. He was writing his own poetry at the age of 16, and he wrote his first novel at the age of 20. Bringing it to a publisher, Randy found that they loved whatever he wrote, and so, began his nine-year career of writing. However, Randy's romanticism was also his downfall. He had a bad habit of romancing married women, which he wasn't to blame for. It wasn't his fault that they were discontented with their marriage. This habit lead to a very fast-paced series of events in the last year of his life in which he had to learn how to fight, in order to defend himself from his former lovers' ex-husbands. He did fairly well, but the last ex managed to break into his house and stab him to death with his own pen. Most of his lovers went to his funeral, and there was a fairly massive turnout, including family and friends. Now he waits in the penthouse for a job, and chats it up with his companions. Greatest Love: The concept of 'Romance', in all forms. Greatest Fear: Those that would do terrible things in the name of 'love'. This is a perversion of all Randy sees as good, and it terrifies him. Stunning Weapon: Colt M45 that he had bought to fight the exes. Sealing Weapon: His fountain pen.</s> <\|message\|>Charlie Jones Charlie took Jervis' message with a modicum of distaste. When it came to being treated like a kid, he was fine with being coddled, but hated having his actions restricted due to his age. If it had been anyone other than Jervis telling him this, he might have been snarkier. A rebellious part of him wanted to just smash a window and take a car out for a dangerous and chaotic joyride. However, Charlie had no knowledge of cars, let alone how to hotwire one. But if he was at least being given the right to choose their vehicle, then by golly, he would take it. So Charlie wandered the streets, passing by cheap cars, expensive cars, big cars, small cars, slow cars, fast cars; he maybe took a little longer than the other seven probably would have liked, but he was on a mission. There's gotta be one around here, somewhere, Charlie thought to himself, and then he saw it: Some car hobbyists prized possession, an antique form that Charlie was much more comfortable with. He walked up to the car, admiring it, and looked around to see if he could locate the owner anywhere. He couldn't. Smiling, Charlie walked over to the side mirror, making sure no one was around for the moment, and looked at himself. "Randy." Flashing back into the Deadly Room, Charlie picked up the files that he hadn't been able to read yet, but instead of perusing them, looked eagerly at the large screen, hoping that Randy wouldn't subvert his choice and go for another vehicle.</s> <\|message\|>Jonathan II Jones The driving, the chase, this brought back memories. You see, Jonathan wasn't the perfect husband and there was a lot of "marital conflict" in the family, though it leaned more towards one sided abuse. So there was no surprise when his wife wanted to leave him. He always remembered her first attempt, the first and the last as he made sure to engrave a lesson on what happens when a property runs from its owner. The whole thing was gruesome. It began when his wife left the bed one night, not to return, and upon waking up by the powerful engine of his car he noticed her absence. Before he even had a chance to get up the car roared as it dashed forward, through the estate gate and into the road. "That bitch dared to leave him?"- were his rage fueled thoughts. "Properties should know their fucking place"- he continued in a murmur. Without wearing anything else beside his bed robe, he hopped into his other car and gave chase immediately. The girl was full of adrenaline, anxious, scared but at last she almost felt released by that man's horrid grasp. To feel truly free she would have to get out of his property, which was considerably large mind you. Now to understand what happens next you have to understand the road she was following. The manor was at the top of a hill which ended in a cliff at one side and a forest in the other. This road snaked from one side of the hill to the other, slithering through the forest until it reached the bottom. Now here's what Jonathan did… Looking back one more time the girl felt a little relief that she wasn't followed. That relief was short lived. The faint sound of an engine could be heard coming from the forest that lead to the mansion. The sound only continued to grow as lights could now be seen piercing through the forest flora. The bushes rustled for a moment then.. "It can't be.. He's not tha-" VROOM The car leaped from the high ground crashing straight to the other one. Both people were sent flying but luckily for Jonathan he was thrown out during the jump, the momentum carrying him over to the other side of the road and into the greenery which softened his fall. Not so luckily for his wife property which lay bleeding on the ground with a piece of metal protruding through the side of her abdomen. "Sir, are you alright?"- one of the guards while towering above Jonathan's semi unconscious form. "ha..hehe..AHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA cough cough more pained laughter"- Jonathan had broken into a frenzied laughter only stopped by the sharp pain at his side. Probably a few broken ribs, otherwise just minor injuries. The main thing was that the lesson was learned, learned and forever engraved in her mind and body. And learn she did, as she learned to kill him instead of running….Good memories. Getting back to the present he continued: "You got taste kid, now let's see if our Randy has any skill in driving."- he remarked after finally raising up his head from the files. He got a particular.. rush when reading Marina's file, Dolly coming second. He would definitely love tormenting those girls, how he would take his sweet time with them. Walking for the couch, he leaped from the back to land in a sitting position. Making himself comfortable with his bottle of whisky as a pacifier he observed Randy while in anticipation of the moment when he would break those girls.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail "Abbey" Jones Abigail had to cease her bar stool spinning antics as people continued to pop in and out of existence around her. She hadn't been with the Deadly Eight long, so the antics of everyone switching in and out of one body definitely got her head spinning. The whole experience was almost a bit surreal to her, or perhaps that was just the vibe Jervis was going for with the jazzy, lounge-esque Deadly Room. Abigail set the targets' files down at this point. She never was too adept at the art of preplanning. The way she rolled, the only thing she prepared was plans to blow things up. Her logic worked much better under the threat of gunfire. Or at least, that's what Abigail thought. Maybe she was just lazy. For a moment, Abigail intently watched Jervis as he spoke through the phone to Charlie. That phone definitely brought back halcyon memories of Abigail's first few months in the Deadly Room. Oh how fun it had been to toy with the assassins during their missions, and oh how sad she was when Jervis then disallowed her from further using the phone. That was definitely one detail that most of her comrades would have picked up about Abigail: She almost never took anything seriously around here. Life er-... Unlife was all a game to Abigail. "Well that's an interesting choice..." Speaking to no one in particular, Abigail's eyes traced the vintage vehicle that Charlie chose. She had some experience with cars, but none at all with this sort. It was also probably worth mentioning that most of Abigail's experience with vehicles revolved around either destroying them, using them to destroy other things, or getaway driving. Abigail definitely had a... unique skill set. "It looks like it couldn't even breach fifty miles an hour. Let's hope nothing goes wrong during the mission... Our escape might crumble to dust when we need it." The girl gave a short chuckle continuing to watch, though as Charlie switched places with Randy, Abigail's demeanor seemed to change near instantaneously. A smile crossed her face, her eyes came alight with a certain glow of excitement, and her posture perked up to make her look more presentable. "Ah Charlie! Welcome back! Perfect execution of an escape as usual, and not to mention the lovely choice of vehicle. My compliments to your contribution as always!" Her voice was soft, almost baby-ish. Abigail was always so allured by the young assassin's delicate and charming appearance. Of course, Abigail completely disregarded any sort of flaws she saw in Charlie. He was too perfect for those. She continued her shower of praise for a moment longer whether Charlie was listening or not. This had no doubt become a common occurrence, happening nearly every conversation Abigail had with Charlie ever since she was brought to the Deadly Room.</s> <\|message\|>Charlie Jones Since he met Abigail, Charlie had treated her in a hot-and-cold manner; sometimes putting up with her doting, other times rejecting it. Neither reaction seemed to change her behavior, so he decided that this time, he would just play along. "I did good, didn't I, Abby?" Charlie said, flashing her a self-satisfied smile and making himself approachable. Of course, he knew very well that he was bullshitting; all he had done was wander out onto the streets and look at a car, but he wanted to play himself up, knowing that by encouraging Abigail, and by being an insufferable little prick and exaggerating his own contributions, the two of them would probably annoy the Hell out of the others, and that was Charlie's favorite pastime. Flipping through the dossiers, he zeroed in on their current target that the others had chosen in his brief absence. The first thing he noticed was the age, and a look of disgust passed very quickly over his face. While he hated adults, he could stand teenagers and young adults even less. he saw them as hypocrites, wannabe adults who abandoned their honesty as children to become the liars that grownups were. Going through the rest, he noticed all of the them were more-or-less in their teens, with on being 21, but then the last one was his age; and there was no information on her. He smirked, and figured this case might be interesting after all.</s> <\|message\|>Alejandra Jones Alejandra Jones "Very well," she replied to the decision. "Now to the Sparks… " There was a slight relief that came over her as the target was chosen, then after left confused on to why she felt that. Am I… anxious? Missions were truly a thrill to execute and targets weren't too much to handle. But, had the hunt finally got to her? What was so different from this case from the other cases? She massaged her temple and sighed, thinking too much doesn't help anyway. Lifting her head, Alejandra couldn't help but listen to the grumbling of her partner latina, Raissa. Training the ear did have its benefits as a skill, though she would hate being accused of being nosy or intrusive. She chuckled at the odd rambling, seeing how quite well their personalities contrasted but didn't seem to clash when in conversation. At least she served as a good distraction. Alejandra looked back to the large monitor in curiosity on to which vehicle they would drive. The choice was admirable, its appearance seeming to be polished to a shine with great care. "Es una pena," she sighed. She hoped the owner would be able to find it… in one piece. Sure, she could trust Randy with the wheel better than the others, but what more of this ghost's driving? She was set on getting the job done quickly. Though the many worries of the task at hand, she was still intrigued the old vehicle. Never once had she seen such an antique in her lifetime, she being the newest of the eight. The most she had seen of a vehicle were her homeland's artillery trucks that would constantly raid and kill the indigenous and peasants on a common basis. On foot, Alejandra had crossed the Mexican border with her family, never then owning a car until she and her siblings earned enough money to afford one. Due to her then inexperience, she'd hire others to drive for her in fear she'd hurt herself. "One of these days..." she murmured in dissatisfaction.</s>	<\|message\|>Randy Jones When Randy appeared in the street-side parking lot, in front of the vintage car, he took one glance and sighed in appreciation. "1939 Pierce-Arrow. Good choice. Was commissioned to men of wealth and taste. Quite roomy as well, for cars of its' time. I almost wish you hadn't picked it, Charlie. I'm not a burglar, ya know, so I'mma have to go the direct route to open the car." Still a bit down about what he had to do, Randy looked around for a suitable tool, and finding a chunk of concrete the size of his fist, hefted it. "I'm sorry, you beautiful, beautiful vehicle. I didn't want to do this." Smashing the chunk of concrete into the window, Randy looked away, covering his face with his other hand as glass shards flew towards him. Dropping the chunk of concrete, Randy reached through the now-broken pane of glass, and unlocked the door from the inside. Opening the door, Randy cringed as the glass crunched underfoot. Sitting in the front seat, Randy removed the panel under the steering column, and working quickly, before anyone nearby could investigate the sound of shattering glass, Randy hotwired the classic car, driving off in a peal of rubber, surprised at the get-up-and-go the classic car had. Owner must've replaced the engine. Wind blowing through his hair, Randy drove off towards his objective.</s>
<\|description\|>Enoch Kenz Gender: Male Height: 9ft Rank: Imortale Prelitor Auxilia Optima Primary Weapon: Olympia Shatterpoint Cannon Secondary Weapon: MNR Regalia SMG Melee Weapon: Ion Bladed Trench Knife Lethal Grenades: 2 Plasma Grenades Tactical Grenades: 2 EMP Grenades Extra Equipment: Deployable Blast Shield This device is stored as a 4.5ft rectangular metal rod, within which is a 'spool' of adamantine-alloy composite that allows for an incredibly durable but flexible shield. Deployment consists of dropping the device on the ground and kicking a starter pedal. This extends the sheet of adamantine upward to approximately 7.7ft. In the centre is a hole large enough for Enoch to deploy his cannon, providing a limited but pinpoint accurate field of fire as well as excellent defense against enemy ranged attack. Psychic Powers: Machine Manipulation Telepathy Telekinesis Stats: Strength: 6 Endurance: 6 Agility: 3 Psy Power: 3 Charisma: 5 Perception: 6 Intelligence: 6 Skills: Melee: 80 (30+30+15+5) Ranged: 80 (30+50) Heavy: 80 (30+30+20) Leadership: 60 (25+30+5) Acrobatics: 20 (15+5) Survival: 65 (30+30+5) Technology: 65 (30+30+5) Arcane Knowledge: 50 (15+30+5) Stealth: 15 (15) Enoch, though a powerful Imortale Prelitor, understands that he is just as expendable as everyone else, and accepts the knowlege that sooner or later he will die in the field of battle and his mantle undertaken by another warrior just as good as he. He doesn't speak much, save for affirming orders and the occasional shred of tactical advice, which is always delivered in a blunt, matter-of-fact manner which does little to portray his emotions. Enoch shuns all sense of pride and moral; he preffers to get the job done right, over getting the job done in a blaze of glory</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Shadows of a Broken Empire: Rise of the Immortals For years you have trained in the arts of the Imortale Prelitor. The ways of war and power, unlocking secrets of life and death. You were raised on the world of Valakryia, in the Temple of Sacred Flame, by the mystics and Librarians who represent the elders of your order. Now you stand in the Hall of Fate, before the Immortal Throne of the Emperor Lucan the First. As you await the arrival of your Lord you see the other Imortale Prelitor around you. These men and women will be as your brothers and sisters in the coming tribulations... Your future may rest in their hands. Zepheus stands near the doors to the Throne room, his arms crossed. His signature Warpack absent as no weapon is permitted in these hallowed halls. He seems to be observing each of the younger Imortale Prelitor... As if measuring them. [Turn Begin]</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch slowly marches toward Zepheus and gradually lowers himself to one knee, bowing his head in reverence. "'Tis an honour to be serving within your presence." His surprisingly 'average' sounding voice - compared to the low and booming tone one would expect from a bulky Auxilia like himself - remains flat and devoid of the kind of elation one should feel when saying such words.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia "Rise, Optima. You are said to have been best in your class. Heavy support if I remember correctly?" his voice was deep and he spoke barely above a whisper.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna had never been graced to be allowed into these venerated halls before, taking in her new environment as each wall and crevice molded in the darkness of her mind. She had been watching others sent when they were given the call, even those she felt less capable than herself. 'You are not ready', they would say, and she would return to training for another year. But today was special and different from the others. It was she was sent to the inner sanctums this time, to commune with the Immortal Emperor. Maybe now they saw something worthy of her. She felt very proud indeed. When she finally reached her destination, Vienna kept her head low as she tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone, on the off-chance she would offend a superior rank or someone of nobility. Such strict laws and traditions, but she understood them. Just as they branded her with special rules, it is for the betterment of their people. Although not that such a thing would be possible in the first place. Her engraved silvered-mask covered most of her face and her eyes. It was more she was trying to keep a low profile, issuing greetings only when necessary. "Ah... my sincerest greetings too, elder brother." she breathed to one of the men in the grand amber-lit halls leading to the Throne Room that reached out to her. Each word was soft, like a murmur, as though it was hard for her to speak. He didn't look like someone from her own unit, so she wasn't really interested in what he had to say. It was a dry sort of truth, but if she was going to strain herself to socialize, she only wanted to do so when absolutely needed. They would probably never see each other again anyways. Biding time for a chance to depart with a few modest nods to his exchanges across the ruthless ticking minutes, she found an opportunity when an acquaintance of his appeared. By the two clasped in a handshake she was already gone. Truthfully, she was just never good with words, let alone eloquently disarming a social dilemma if it occurred. There was no doubt she might say something callous without even realizing it and offend someone, or say nothing and offend someone. Judging how she didn't know how go about such things, the windows for failure were quite vast. Best she avoided it all. She had few rights as it was and she preferred to not spoil them, especially now. She soon found a place alone by one of the intricately carved pillars, leaning back against it with a sigh. Her resting spot was a safe distance away from the others, as she was afraid her very presence might send an uncomfortable chill down their spines. As her powers were quite untamed around other sources, even with the inhibitors placed. And her emotions were flaring. She felt overwhelmed by the new environment, happiness, fear, anxiety, excitement; all of it smothered her. Vienna only hoped she can make a good impression now that it mattered. ...</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose walks towards Zepheus, and bows to him, her jet black hair cut short , and her scabbard, empty, aswell as her back holster for her battle rifle, the side holster for her shield also empty, as, despite its defensive nature, the shield is still classified as a weapon 'It will be a pleasure to work beneath you, Sir.' her voice is softer than expected, barely louder than a whisper, and it is obvious she primarily uses her telepathy for communication, not her voice. She bows again, and returns to the rest of her squad, nodding at Enoch in passing. She notices Vienna, and walks over to her. 'Hello there. You seem uneasy, is there anything I can do to help?'</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch returns the brisk nod toward the passing Rose; the electrical servos nestled within his armour plate grind and squeal as he elevates himself back to a standing position. His imposing 9ft frame is yet more dramatic with the application of the incredibly thick and heavy Power Armour he has adopted for this meeting. The sheer bulk of it rises him to at least another foot off the ground, and nearly twice as wide as any other Prelitor in the room. "Auxilia Optima: you remember correctly." Enoch makes no effort to even glance at anyone else. They are not deserving of neither his words nor his look, until the Prelitor can deem them worthy of his respect.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus keeps his eye on the solemn woman with the covering over her eyes. A Savantus of great power and greater potential... But would she have what it takes to be a part of this team? That had yet to be seen. In all his long years of service, eight centuries of life, he had seen countless warriors and sages like the ones around him. They had been young, strong, and full of youth just as these men and women are. And they were all dead. Broken by conflicts past, the mighty armies of religious zealots, the nawing hunger of the Great Swarm, the mindless violence of the Walking War. He was one of the oldest Imortale Prelitor left alive, many the elders had been slain, so to many of the younger warriors, barely baptized in their first war. He would now lead a new generation of warriors, sages, maniacs, and kind souls to war, and all of its horrors. He turned to the Furia that had introduced herself, and was now speaking to the Savantus. He had seen recordings of her training, and was impressed. She would make a fine warrior if she survived long enough. He looked now at the Auxillia Optima before him. A heavy weapons expert and defensive/offensive fighter that could suit many a situation. He stood, waiting for the others to reveal themselves.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Without anyone else who appears to require him, Enoch chooses to stand parallel to Zepheus, on his right flank, and glares behind harsh yellow lenses at the other Prelitors who litter the room. Various mumblings sound from within his helmet; the tips of the fingers across his left hand tap rhythmically against his chestplate, dancing beneath his folded arms.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera approaches and bows in front of Zepheus, the leader of this operation. Then he walks away to a silent corner and sits down, and used his shield which is now strapped on his back as support as he reclines on the wall behind him. A few take notice and make a few snarky comments, but Senera's reclining comfortably, while they're still standing. Too much noise. He thinks to himself. He would love to get some shut eye but, he has no idea what's going to happen next so he just stays there, daydreaming about some situations that he read in his novels.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Lillian looks at Zepheus, as if measuring him herself, for a short moment - about the time it takes to blink two times, then she bows forward with a straight back, lowering her gaze to the floor. Some seconds later, she looks up without a single word and into face behind the helmet, awaiting his words.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus looks back at the Savantus, the glare of his eyeless helm lending to an aura of unnatural uneasiness. "Savantus, state your name." he commanded in a cool, but firm tone</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna winced upon hearing the words, shoulders pushing up tensely. Her head darted back and forth as her mind scrambled to refocus, the shape of the figure registering in the darkness. She really was too absorbed within her own worries she didn't even notice this new arrival. She turned to face the approaching woman with a half-smile, embarrassed by her own skittishness. "Ah... my, don't worry about me... I am just thinking..." she paused. 'Wait. What kind of answer was that, Vienna? Hurry, you still have time to explain yourself! Choose words. She's going to think you've a mental disorder, or worse...!' But try as she might, all that came of her mouth were befuddled 'umms' and 'ahhs'. Her grin quickly faltered as she started panicking at the inability to find any real words. It was like the thoughts in her mind were just flushed down a drain, leaving her with complete blanks. Seconds felt like minutes as she struggled internally, mouth pinched as she squirmed in her boots. Vienna wanted to just back away into a dark corner and just die of embarrassment. But she couldn't just let the kind gesture go to waste, especially when they first initiated the interaction. This was the first time someone approached her on their own. Usually it was the opposite. No one wanted to even step anywhere near the ticking psionic bomb. She probably didn't even know about her dangerous reputation, so that's why. But still, to her, it was the thought was what mattered the most. Despite being strangers, they went out of her way to offer help to her, without even being asked. It might seem trivial to anyone who was even marginally socially adequate, but to Vienna, this woman appeared truly noble. Wait. A stranger! That's right, before every conversation was an exchange of names. She immediately bowed her head, hoping she could hide the darkness settling in her cheeks, "A-ah... where are my manners? I-I am Vienna Marx Sorielus... it is a pleasure to have you acquaintance, dear sister-in-arms..." Vienna remained this way, both awaiting a response while trying her best to keep her heart still. Blood was rushing into her face, the added heat making it feel like she was being cooked alive. She could faint from this unbearable stress at any moment. Her hands were shaking, she could feel them. What would her instructors think if they saw her now? She didn't want to disappoint them after all they did for her, not after the promise she made to herself and all the others. She had finally been given a chance to prove herself. She cursed herself. How would she even handle such an important duty as being an Imortale Prelitor if she couldn't handle something as simple as this? She didn't dare allow her mind to imagine the response this person would have to her odd mannerisms. ...</s>	<\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s>
<\|description\|>Enoch Kenz Gender: Male Height: 9ft Rank: Imortale Prelitor Auxilia Optima Primary Weapon: Olympia Shatterpoint Cannon Secondary Weapon: MNR Regalia SMG Melee Weapon: Ion Bladed Trench Knife Lethal Grenades: 2 Plasma Grenades Tactical Grenades: 2 EMP Grenades Extra Equipment: Deployable Blast Shield This device is stored as a 4.5ft rectangular metal rod, within which is a 'spool' of adamantine-alloy composite that allows for an incredibly durable but flexible shield. Deployment consists of dropping the device on the ground and kicking a starter pedal. This extends the sheet of adamantine upward to approximately 7.7ft. In the centre is a hole large enough for Enoch to deploy his cannon, providing a limited but pinpoint accurate field of fire as well as excellent defense against enemy ranged attack. Psychic Powers: Machine Manipulation Telepathy Telekinesis Stats: Strength: 6 Endurance: 6 Agility: 3 Psy Power: 3 Charisma: 5 Perception: 6 Intelligence: 6 Skills: Melee: 80 (30+30+15+5) Ranged: 80 (30+50) Heavy: 80 (30+30+20) Leadership: 60 (25+30+5) Acrobatics: 20 (15+5) Survival: 65 (30+30+5) Technology: 65 (30+30+5) Arcane Knowledge: 50 (15+30+5) Stealth: 15 (15) Enoch, though a powerful Imortale Prelitor, understands that he is just as expendable as everyone else, and accepts the knowlege that sooner or later he will die in the field of battle and his mantle undertaken by another warrior just as good as he. He doesn't speak much, save for affirming orders and the occasional shred of tactical advice, which is always delivered in a blunt, matter-of-fact manner which does little to portray his emotions. Enoch shuns all sense of pride and moral; he preffers to get the job done right, over getting the job done in a blaze of glory</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia stroke through the hall not even glancing at the myriad of people around him. He has finally taken his rightful place as an Immortal and no longer would he have to pretend to smile and make nice with the people around him. He could finally revel in what he truly loved. Blood and violence. For years he had trained to master his powers and, although not born a women, his physic powers had become incredibly powerful. Nakinia struck his staff into the ground every step, small sparks flying from the impact point. His sword swayed gently at his hip as he walked. He finally reached the gathering of his 'comrades,' he sneered inwardly as he looked around at them. None of them were his equal save perhaps the leader himself. Towards him Nakinia's expression changed into one of indifference and a slight hint of respect for the ancient warrior. "Nakinia Orbalan reporting in sir." He places special emphasis on his last name to try and show those around him that he was greater than most of them. 'Still' her thought to himself 'I wonder if any of these other immortals will be worthy of one such as me.'</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna held back her surprise with a short gasp when the room filled with immense psychic energy, feeling the shuddering waves warping around the throne before he even signaled his arrival. It was an aura she had never before felt, crippling yet soft and warm. Truly, even though they called her a prodigy, she was like a meager candle held against a raging bonfire. She could only appreciate this fact with a slight nod of her head and a faint smile. To serve, to have purpose meant more to her than anything. When He finally appeared physically, in a flash of brilliant light, she was forced to go 'blind', as to prevent her senses from getting overwhelmed by the sheer power. The young Savantus was almost at a loss, and normally she would be, but Vienna had been prepared for this encounter for a long time now. Doing what she had rehearsed for hours into the mirror the night prior, she immediately dropped onto her knees and bowed, her body laying across the ground in a look of humility. "Hail, the great protector, the Immortal Emperor. With every ounce of my body and soul can offer, may our people prosper under your reign, my god and king." she called, word for word, what they had taught her to say.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera, whose daydreaming sent him to sleep quickly awoke at a mysterious sound and blinding light. Senera quickly got up and brought up his shield to protect his eyes from the light, and cursed himself for not buying a pair of sunglasses. The light began to talk. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me.", it said. Senera then took a deep breath and poked his head from behind the shield to gaze directly a the blinding light. It was bright and caused a great deal of damage to his retina, but he easily regenerated it. It was a magnificent sight. There, a great figure sat on the throne; undoubtedly the emperor. Senera was mesmerized by him. He had heard much about the Emperor, his heroics, kindness, power. Yet, seeing him, and feeling his power in person was a world of a difference. Senera stood there for a while gazing at him. After a while, Senera was able to tear his eyes off the Emperor and look at the men surrounding him. His guard stood around him, along with Zepheus and a few others near him. However, most of them were frowning at him. Senera didn't understand. What were they so upset about. He was just standing there and admiring the Emperor. Then the coin dropped. Standing! A quick look around the hall told Senera told his that he was the only one standing while everyone was kneeling with reverence to the Emperor. What's worse, he was still holding his shield at the Emperor. Senera quickly wore his shield on his back again, and kneeled, facing the dusty ground.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Whether my design, or through the restricted movement of his armour, Enoch is both the first to start kneeling and the last to finish kneeling. Even if - in the same way the Auxilia knew he would one day die and be replaced - this Emperor would eventually pass away and be forgotten through the unrelenting sands of time, as a new Emperor finds his throne. For the time being, he knew respect was demanded and it would be given no matter how difficult it would be. Such thoughts gave way to a metaphor for the mission ahead. No matter the difficulty, the Emperor's will shall be done.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia The Emperor sat for a moment in silence, then motioned for all to rise. "I have called you here, my warriors, to bring my wrath down upon those who would threaten our great Empire! The manufacturing world of Arnax has rebeled, their armies are up in arms, assaulting nearby loyalist worlds. I have already dispatched two full battalion of Marines to begin the siege of the traitorous world. You are to take a state of the art ship from my own personal stock... I want you to find the leader of the Rebellion, a powerful Psychic and aristocrat. Gaius Invictus, of the House Tyrius! My own blood, distant through many generation. this betrayal will not go unpunished... Now go, take the Feronia, my personal exploratory ship, my friend here will accompany you he motions to the silent figure by his side and kill the traitors!" He then suddenly vanished, fading from all detection in a mere instant. The Guards fled back behind the Throne without a word, disappearing from sight. The silent warrior remained, leading you to the docking bay of the great Imperial Spire, there you find a magnificent ship, ready and waiting. The docking bay is vast and cavernous, the great vaulted ceilings adorned lightly with murals of ancient spaceflight. The airlock is open, and the interior almost beckons you.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose looks around, and not seeing anyone else willing to step forward, enters the airlock, 'well come on comrades. Let's do this thing. Prove ourselves worthy of the Emperor's trust.' she finds her weapons in a weapons locker located in the airlock, and she equips her shield and sword</s>	<\|message\|>Enoch Kenz "It should not only be the Emperor's trust you seek at this time." Enoch grumbles, slowly following her inside, heeding the ship's calling. Beneath his helmet he lets a brief period of glee overcome him. He cannot begin to imagine the technological marvels within one of the Lord Emperor's prized vessels. He hoped the pilot was around to ask about the ship's specifications.</s>
<\|description\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Rank: Imortale Prelitor Savantus A quick concept sketch I drew; Stats: Each stat has a value of 0 by default, you get 35 points to use on stats as you see fit. Weapons and Psy powers have certain requirements, and Stats will also affect the way character behave. Each stat effects several skills, for every one stat point, the skills related to that stat go up by five points by default. Strength: 1 Melee, Heavy Weapons Endurance: 3 Melee, Survival Agility: 5 - Melee, Acrobatics, Stealth Psy Power: 7 - Arcane Knowledge Charisma: 0 - Leadership Perception: 10 - Ranged, Heavy, Technology Intelligence: 9- Leadership, Survival, Technology, Arcane Knowledge Skills: You will need skills to use weapons and abilities, or to allow for some actions. All skills start at baseline 0 and you get 100 points to use as you see fit. Melee: 0 + 25 + 15 + 5 = 45 Ranged Weapons: 0 + 45 = 45 Heavy Weapons: 0 + 45 + 5 = 50 Leadership: 0 + 40 = 40 Acrobatics: 0 + 25 = 25 Survival: 20 + 40 + 15 = 75 Technology: 30 + 40 + 45 = 115 Arcane Knowledge: 50 + 35 + 40 = 125 Stealth: 0 + 25 = 25 Recognized for her incredible gift for the psionic, and the innate dangerous nature she exhibits, Vienna has received special training separate from other Imortale Prelitors. Being imparted with advanced lessons from elder Savantus (just a placeholder name, since I don't know a better term for elite psychics) in decades-long training has effectively honed her focus with her powerful psionic abilities. This has made her a powerful psychic, but a comparably weak martial fighter. As such, she is issued no combat arms, due to the weaknesses imposed by her special equipment, and has been tailored into a fully psychic/support role, mastering more psy-powers than usual in order to manipulate the battlefield from a safer distance. Notably, she has a strong link to machines, believing that some of them have developed 'Souls'. Equipment: -none. Special Equipment: - Psy Focus; Blank Stare Due to her intense psionic powers, Vienna is a living conduit for such energies, considered a prodigy of sorts. Though her gift over these powers is equally a curse, often amplifying them to lethal degrees. Ever since a terrible accident in her past, she has been forced to wear this inhibitor, which covers the upper portion of her head and both eyes, in order to calm her mind to properly focus and direct her violent powers. If this artifact ever leaves physical contact with her, she will undergo a state of shock and unleash uncontrollable arcs of violent psionic energy and draw in all sources that utilize such power. This is dangerous for herself and anyone around her. Prolonged periods will cause her to literally rip herself from existence. - Makes her invisible to most psionic scanners. - Uninvited attempts by others to control or peer into her mind is made much more difficult. And even if successful, intruders will be met with violent and horrific hallucinations. Only the most resolute of mind, or already maddened, can tolerate this experience. - Blocks all manner of natural eyesight, but grants her a unique ability known as 'Sightlessness'. Psy Powers: - 'Healing Factor/Regeneration' - 'Machine Manipulation' - 'Telekinesis' - 'Telepathy' - 'Teleportation' - 'Lightning' - 'Sightlessness'; Unable to use her eyes, Vienna uses her focus to amplify faint pulses of psionic energy that allow her to see shapes and figures in a wide range around her. The further away an object is, the more blurry and undefined they appear to her. Personality: Vienna is a kind soul, never wishing to hurt others. Not even now. Her father was never there in her life, so the little girl was raised only by a single parent. Her beloved mother. All she wishes is to please and protect her only parent, whom gave her everything when they had less than nothing. But her simple wishes were never meant to be. When she was discovered at a young age to possess abilities that distinguished her among even elder psychics, she was taken away from the ruins of her home and made into a tool to serve the Immortal Emperor. Fitted with inhibitors to cant her festering powers, until she is strong enough to act without them, she has been made to practice her abilities for decades. Under the silent watch of the Librarians of the Grand Archives, she has been made a powerful psychic and machine-whisperer, forgoing most other skills in order to make her excel in these fields. She hasn't set foot outside the sacred temples in what seems to be a lifetime, completely naive, innocent, and curious as ever to the new experience. (Again, just placeholder names) Due to her isolation from others, she has very underdeveloped social skills and can be very passive when it comes to her own thoughts. She can be awkward at times or unable to read the mood. ...</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna had never been graced to be allowed into these venerated halls before, taking in her new environment as each wall and crevice molded in the darkness of her mind. She had been watching others sent when they were given the call, even those she felt less capable than herself. 'You are not ready', they would say, and she would return to training for another year. But today was special and different from the others. It was she was sent to the inner sanctums this time, to commune with the Immortal Emperor. Maybe now they saw something worthy of her. She felt very proud indeed. When she finally reached her destination, Vienna kept her head low as she tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone, on the off-chance she would offend a superior rank or someone of nobility. Such strict laws and traditions, but she understood them. Just as they branded her with special rules, it is for the betterment of their people. Although not that such a thing would be possible in the first place. Her engraved silvered-mask covered most of her face and her eyes. It was more she was trying to keep a low profile, issuing greetings only when necessary. "Ah... my sincerest greetings too, elder brother." she breathed to one of the men in the grand amber-lit halls leading to the Throne Room that reached out to her. Each word was soft, like a murmur, as though it was hard for her to speak. He didn't look like someone from her own unit, so she wasn't really interested in what he had to say. It was a dry sort of truth, but if she was going to strain herself to socialize, she only wanted to do so when absolutely needed. They would probably never see each other again anyways. Biding time for a chance to depart with a few modest nods to his exchanges across the ruthless ticking minutes, she found an opportunity when an acquaintance of his appeared. By the two clasped in a handshake she was already gone. Truthfully, she was just never good with words, let alone eloquently disarming a social dilemma if it occurred. There was no doubt she might say something callous without even realizing it and offend someone, or say nothing and offend someone. Judging how she didn't know how go about such things, the windows for failure were quite vast. Best she avoided it all. She had few rights as it was and she preferred to not spoil them, especially now. She soon found a place alone by one of the intricately carved pillars, leaning back against it with a sigh. Her resting spot was a safe distance away from the others, as she was afraid her very presence might send an uncomfortable chill down their spines. As her powers were quite untamed around other sources, even with the inhibitors placed. And her emotions were flaring. She felt overwhelmed by the new environment, happiness, fear, anxiety, excitement; all of it smothered her. Vienna only hoped she can make a good impression now that it mattered. ...</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose walks towards Zepheus, and bows to him, her jet black hair cut short , and her scabbard, empty, aswell as her back holster for her battle rifle, the side holster for her shield also empty, as, despite its defensive nature, the shield is still classified as a weapon 'It will be a pleasure to work beneath you, Sir.' her voice is softer than expected, barely louder than a whisper, and it is obvious she primarily uses her telepathy for communication, not her voice. She bows again, and returns to the rest of her squad, nodding at Enoch in passing. She notices Vienna, and walks over to her. 'Hello there. You seem uneasy, is there anything I can do to help?'</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch returns the brisk nod toward the passing Rose; the electrical servos nestled within his armour plate grind and squeal as he elevates himself back to a standing position. His imposing 9ft frame is yet more dramatic with the application of the incredibly thick and heavy Power Armour he has adopted for this meeting. The sheer bulk of it rises him to at least another foot off the ground, and nearly twice as wide as any other Prelitor in the room. "Auxilia Optima: you remember correctly." Enoch makes no effort to even glance at anyone else. They are not deserving of neither his words nor his look, until the Prelitor can deem them worthy of his respect.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus keeps his eye on the solemn woman with the covering over her eyes. A Savantus of great power and greater potential... But would she have what it takes to be a part of this team? That had yet to be seen. In all his long years of service, eight centuries of life, he had seen countless warriors and sages like the ones around him. They had been young, strong, and full of youth just as these men and women are. And they were all dead. Broken by conflicts past, the mighty armies of religious zealots, the nawing hunger of the Great Swarm, the mindless violence of the Walking War. He was one of the oldest Imortale Prelitor left alive, many the elders had been slain, so to many of the younger warriors, barely baptized in their first war. He would now lead a new generation of warriors, sages, maniacs, and kind souls to war, and all of its horrors. He turned to the Furia that had introduced herself, and was now speaking to the Savantus. He had seen recordings of her training, and was impressed. She would make a fine warrior if she survived long enough. He looked now at the Auxillia Optima before him. A heavy weapons expert and defensive/offensive fighter that could suit many a situation. He stood, waiting for the others to reveal themselves.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Without anyone else who appears to require him, Enoch chooses to stand parallel to Zepheus, on his right flank, and glares behind harsh yellow lenses at the other Prelitors who litter the room. Various mumblings sound from within his helmet; the tips of the fingers across his left hand tap rhythmically against his chestplate, dancing beneath his folded arms.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera approaches and bows in front of Zepheus, the leader of this operation. Then he walks away to a silent corner and sits down, and used his shield which is now strapped on his back as support as he reclines on the wall behind him. A few take notice and make a few snarky comments, but Senera's reclining comfortably, while they're still standing. Too much noise. He thinks to himself. He would love to get some shut eye but, he has no idea what's going to happen next so he just stays there, daydreaming about some situations that he read in his novels.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Lillian looks at Zepheus, as if measuring him herself, for a short moment - about the time it takes to blink two times, then she bows forward with a straight back, lowering her gaze to the floor. Some seconds later, she looks up without a single word and into face behind the helmet, awaiting his words.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus looks back at the Savantus, the glare of his eyeless helm lending to an aura of unnatural uneasiness. "Savantus, state your name." he commanded in a cool, but firm tone</s>	<\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna winced upon hearing the words, shoulders pushing up tensely. Her head darted back and forth as her mind scrambled to refocus, the shape of the figure registering in the darkness. She really was too absorbed within her own worries she didn't even notice this new arrival. She turned to face the approaching woman with a half-smile, embarrassed by her own skittishness. "Ah... my, don't worry about me... I am just thinking..." she paused. 'Wait. What kind of answer was that, Vienna? Hurry, you still have time to explain yourself! Choose words. She's going to think you've a mental disorder, or worse...!' But try as she might, all that came of her mouth were befuddled 'umms' and 'ahhs'. Her grin quickly faltered as she started panicking at the inability to find any real words. It was like the thoughts in her mind were just flushed down a drain, leaving her with complete blanks. Seconds felt like minutes as she struggled internally, mouth pinched as she squirmed in her boots. Vienna wanted to just back away into a dark corner and just die of embarrassment. But she couldn't just let the kind gesture go to waste, especially when they first initiated the interaction. This was the first time someone approached her on their own. Usually it was the opposite. No one wanted to even step anywhere near the ticking psionic bomb. She probably didn't even know about her dangerous reputation, so that's why. But still, to her, it was the thought was what mattered the most. Despite being strangers, they went out of her way to offer help to her, without even being asked. It might seem trivial to anyone who was even marginally socially adequate, but to Vienna, this woman appeared truly noble. Wait. A stranger! That's right, before every conversation was an exchange of names. She immediately bowed her head, hoping she could hide the darkness settling in her cheeks, "A-ah... where are my manners? I-I am Vienna Marx Sorielus... it is a pleasure to have you acquaintance, dear sister-in-arms..." Vienna remained this way, both awaiting a response while trying her best to keep her heart still. Blood was rushing into her face, the added heat making it feel like she was being cooked alive. She could faint from this unbearable stress at any moment. Her hands were shaking, she could feel them. What would her instructors think if they saw her now? She didn't want to disappoint them after all they did for her, not after the promise she made to herself and all the others. She had finally been given a chance to prove herself. She cursed herself. How would she even handle such an important duty as being an Imortale Prelitor if she couldn't handle something as simple as this? She didn't dare allow her mind to imagine the response this person would have to her odd mannerisms. ...</s>
<\|description\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Rank: Imortale Prelitor Savantus A quick concept sketch I drew; Stats: Each stat has a value of 0 by default, you get 35 points to use on stats as you see fit. Weapons and Psy powers have certain requirements, and Stats will also affect the way character behave. Each stat effects several skills, for every one stat point, the skills related to that stat go up by five points by default. Strength: 1 Melee, Heavy Weapons Endurance: 3 Melee, Survival Agility: 5 - Melee, Acrobatics, Stealth Psy Power: 7 - Arcane Knowledge Charisma: 0 - Leadership Perception: 10 - Ranged, Heavy, Technology Intelligence: 9- Leadership, Survival, Technology, Arcane Knowledge Skills: You will need skills to use weapons and abilities, or to allow for some actions. All skills start at baseline 0 and you get 100 points to use as you see fit. Melee: 0 + 25 + 15 + 5 = 45 Ranged Weapons: 0 + 45 = 45 Heavy Weapons: 0 + 45 + 5 = 50 Leadership: 0 + 40 = 40 Acrobatics: 0 + 25 = 25 Survival: 20 + 40 + 15 = 75 Technology: 30 + 40 + 45 = 115 Arcane Knowledge: 50 + 35 + 40 = 125 Stealth: 0 + 25 = 25 Recognized for her incredible gift for the psionic, and the innate dangerous nature she exhibits, Vienna has received special training separate from other Imortale Prelitors. Being imparted with advanced lessons from elder Savantus (just a placeholder name, since I don't know a better term for elite psychics) in decades-long training has effectively honed her focus with her powerful psionic abilities. This has made her a powerful psychic, but a comparably weak martial fighter. As such, she is issued no combat arms, due to the weaknesses imposed by her special equipment, and has been tailored into a fully psychic/support role, mastering more psy-powers than usual in order to manipulate the battlefield from a safer distance. Notably, she has a strong link to machines, believing that some of them have developed 'Souls'. Equipment: -none. Special Equipment: - Psy Focus; Blank Stare Due to her intense psionic powers, Vienna is a living conduit for such energies, considered a prodigy of sorts. Though her gift over these powers is equally a curse, often amplifying them to lethal degrees. Ever since a terrible accident in her past, she has been forced to wear this inhibitor, which covers the upper portion of her head and both eyes, in order to calm her mind to properly focus and direct her violent powers. If this artifact ever leaves physical contact with her, she will undergo a state of shock and unleash uncontrollable arcs of violent psionic energy and draw in all sources that utilize such power. This is dangerous for herself and anyone around her. Prolonged periods will cause her to literally rip herself from existence. - Makes her invisible to most psionic scanners. - Uninvited attempts by others to control or peer into her mind is made much more difficult. And even if successful, intruders will be met with violent and horrific hallucinations. Only the most resolute of mind, or already maddened, can tolerate this experience. - Blocks all manner of natural eyesight, but grants her a unique ability known as 'Sightlessness'. Psy Powers: - 'Healing Factor/Regeneration' - 'Machine Manipulation' - 'Telekinesis' - 'Telepathy' - 'Teleportation' - 'Lightning' - 'Sightlessness'; Unable to use her eyes, Vienna uses her focus to amplify faint pulses of psionic energy that allow her to see shapes and figures in a wide range around her. The further away an object is, the more blurry and undefined they appear to her. Personality: Vienna is a kind soul, never wishing to hurt others. Not even now. Her father was never there in her life, so the little girl was raised only by a single parent. Her beloved mother. All she wishes is to please and protect her only parent, whom gave her everything when they had less than nothing. But her simple wishes were never meant to be. When she was discovered at a young age to possess abilities that distinguished her among even elder psychics, she was taken away from the ruins of her home and made into a tool to serve the Immortal Emperor. Fitted with inhibitors to cant her festering powers, until she is strong enough to act without them, she has been made to practice her abilities for decades. Under the silent watch of the Librarians of the Grand Archives, she has been made a powerful psychic and machine-whisperer, forgoing most other skills in order to make her excel in these fields. She hasn't set foot outside the sacred temples in what seems to be a lifetime, completely naive, innocent, and curious as ever to the new experience. (Again, just placeholder names) Due to her isolation from others, she has very underdeveloped social skills and can be very passive when it comes to her own thoughts. She can be awkward at times or unable to read the mood. ...</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia stroke through the hall not even glancing at the myriad of people around him. He has finally taken his rightful place as an Immortal and no longer would he have to pretend to smile and make nice with the people around him. He could finally revel in what he truly loved. Blood and violence. For years he had trained to master his powers and, although not born a women, his physic powers had become incredibly powerful. Nakinia struck his staff into the ground every step, small sparks flying from the impact point. His sword swayed gently at his hip as he walked. He finally reached the gathering of his 'comrades,' he sneered inwardly as he looked around at them. None of them were his equal save perhaps the leader himself. Towards him Nakinia's expression changed into one of indifference and a slight hint of respect for the ancient warrior. "Nakinia Orbalan reporting in sir." He places special emphasis on his last name to try and show those around him that he was greater than most of them. 'Still' her thought to himself 'I wonder if any of these other immortals will be worthy of one such as me.'</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s>	<\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna held back her surprise with a short gasp when the room filled with immense psychic energy, feeling the shuddering waves warping around the throne before he even signaled his arrival. It was an aura she had never before felt, crippling yet soft and warm. Truly, even though they called her a prodigy, she was like a meager candle held against a raging bonfire. She could only appreciate this fact with a slight nod of her head and a faint smile. To serve, to have purpose meant more to her than anything. When He finally appeared physically, in a flash of brilliant light, she was forced to go 'blind', as to prevent her senses from getting overwhelmed by the sheer power. The young Savantus was almost at a loss, and normally she would be, but Vienna had been prepared for this encounter for a long time now. Doing what she had rehearsed for hours into the mirror the night prior, she immediately dropped onto her knees and bowed, her body laying across the ground in a look of humility. "Hail, the great protector, the Immortal Emperor. With every ounce of my body and soul can offer, may our people prosper under your reign, my god and king." she called, word for word, what they had taught her to say.</s>
<\|description\|>Rose Iris Rank: Imortale Prelitor Furia STATS: Strength:5 Endurance:5 Agility:1 Psionic Powers:5 Charisma:5 Perception:9 Intelligence:5 Skills: Melee:55+0={55} Ranged:45+10={55} Heavy Weapons:50+0={50} Leadership:50+15={65} Acrobatics:5+0={5} Survival:25+25={50} Technology:50+0={50} Arcane Knowledge:50+25={75} Stealth:5+25={30} Psyonic Powers: Teleportation: Teleport short distances in an instant, overuse could lead to you fading from existence. Requirements: Arcane(50) Telepathy: Reading minds, communication over distance. Requirements(none) Forewarning: Increase reaction time by seeing threats before they happen. You see it mere seconds before. Requirements: Arcane(60) Heightened Awareness: Projects a psychic ghost, predicting the next movement of the targeted person. The ghost is visible only to the person using the power. While it is active, Telepathy and ForeWarning are un-usable. Less effective against those trained to resist psychic powers. Arcane(70) Primary Weapon: Destroyer of Faded Memories: Artemis Acceleration Cannon: This MAW is oriented towards, and only really useful at, long to extreme ranges, with a high resolution scope, and targeting camera, only skilled marksmens may wield this weapon. 4 round magazine. Heavy(25), Ranged(50) Secondary Weapon: Last Hope of the Shadows: MAW-23 Battle Rifle: 4 round burst, 2.4 second wait between bursts. Variable Zoom scope, infrared. Requirements: Ranged(45) Melee: Dawnbreaker, Promise of Grieving Widows: Fractal Edge Longsword Grenades: 3x Plasma 2x Smoke Special Equipment: Dusk: Fractal Shield: This shield is made with ancient and arcane technology, using methods all but lost to the great Empire. Forged from the same metal as Fractal Edged weapons, this shield phases into existence as an object impacts it, and, as it phases out, repairs itself, becoming nigh indestructible. Can be used as a weapon, with the edge acting as a fractal edge sword. Arcane(60) Personality: She is very personable amongst her team, but views outsiders with suspicion, and doesn't talk to those she doesn't know well. In combat, she is either miles from the engagement, providing pinpoint sniper cover, or in the midst of close.combat, teleporting around the battlefield, destroying enemies, while seeming to dodge all attacks, and providing constant updates to the rest of her squad. Bio: Most of her weapons, all save the grenades, were handed down from ages past, weapons wielded by the first member of her family to be born an Imortale Prelitor.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Shadows of a Broken Empire: Rise of the Immortals For years you have trained in the arts of the Imortale Prelitor. The ways of war and power, unlocking secrets of life and death. You were raised on the world of Valakryia, in the Temple of Sacred Flame, by the mystics and Librarians who represent the elders of your order. Now you stand in the Hall of Fate, before the Immortal Throne of the Emperor Lucan the First. As you await the arrival of your Lord you see the other Imortale Prelitor around you. These men and women will be as your brothers and sisters in the coming tribulations... Your future may rest in their hands. Zepheus stands near the doors to the Throne room, his arms crossed. His signature Warpack absent as no weapon is permitted in these hallowed halls. He seems to be observing each of the younger Imortale Prelitor... As if measuring them. [Turn Begin]</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch slowly marches toward Zepheus and gradually lowers himself to one knee, bowing his head in reverence. "'Tis an honour to be serving within your presence." His surprisingly 'average' sounding voice - compared to the low and booming tone one would expect from a bulky Auxilia like himself - remains flat and devoid of the kind of elation one should feel when saying such words.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia "Rise, Optima. You are said to have been best in your class. Heavy support if I remember correctly?" his voice was deep and he spoke barely above a whisper.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna had never been graced to be allowed into these venerated halls before, taking in her new environment as each wall and crevice molded in the darkness of her mind. She had been watching others sent when they were given the call, even those she felt less capable than herself. 'You are not ready', they would say, and she would return to training for another year. But today was special and different from the others. It was she was sent to the inner sanctums this time, to commune with the Immortal Emperor. Maybe now they saw something worthy of her. She felt very proud indeed. When she finally reached her destination, Vienna kept her head low as she tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone, on the off-chance she would offend a superior rank or someone of nobility. Such strict laws and traditions, but she understood them. Just as they branded her with special rules, it is for the betterment of their people. Although not that such a thing would be possible in the first place. Her engraved silvered-mask covered most of her face and her eyes. It was more she was trying to keep a low profile, issuing greetings only when necessary. "Ah... my sincerest greetings too, elder brother." she breathed to one of the men in the grand amber-lit halls leading to the Throne Room that reached out to her. Each word was soft, like a murmur, as though it was hard for her to speak. He didn't look like someone from her own unit, so she wasn't really interested in what he had to say. It was a dry sort of truth, but if she was going to strain herself to socialize, she only wanted to do so when absolutely needed. They would probably never see each other again anyways. Biding time for a chance to depart with a few modest nods to his exchanges across the ruthless ticking minutes, she found an opportunity when an acquaintance of his appeared. By the two clasped in a handshake she was already gone. Truthfully, she was just never good with words, let alone eloquently disarming a social dilemma if it occurred. There was no doubt she might say something callous without even realizing it and offend someone, or say nothing and offend someone. Judging how she didn't know how go about such things, the windows for failure were quite vast. Best she avoided it all. She had few rights as it was and she preferred to not spoil them, especially now. She soon found a place alone by one of the intricately carved pillars, leaning back against it with a sigh. Her resting spot was a safe distance away from the others, as she was afraid her very presence might send an uncomfortable chill down their spines. As her powers were quite untamed around other sources, even with the inhibitors placed. And her emotions were flaring. She felt overwhelmed by the new environment, happiness, fear, anxiety, excitement; all of it smothered her. Vienna only hoped she can make a good impression now that it mattered. ...</s>	<\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose walks towards Zepheus, and bows to him, her jet black hair cut short , and her scabbard, empty, aswell as her back holster for her battle rifle, the side holster for her shield also empty, as, despite its defensive nature, the shield is still classified as a weapon 'It will be a pleasure to work beneath you, Sir.' her voice is softer than expected, barely louder than a whisper, and it is obvious she primarily uses her telepathy for communication, not her voice. She bows again, and returns to the rest of her squad, nodding at Enoch in passing. She notices Vienna, and walks over to her. 'Hello there. You seem uneasy, is there anything I can do to help?'</s>
<\|description\|>Rose Iris Rank: Imortale Prelitor Furia STATS: Strength:5 Endurance:5 Agility:1 Psionic Powers:5 Charisma:5 Perception:9 Intelligence:5 Skills: Melee:55+0={55} Ranged:45+10={55} Heavy Weapons:50+0={50} Leadership:50+15={65} Acrobatics:5+0={5} Survival:25+25={50} Technology:50+0={50} Arcane Knowledge:50+25={75} Stealth:5+25={30} Psyonic Powers: Teleportation: Teleport short distances in an instant, overuse could lead to you fading from existence. Requirements: Arcane(50) Telepathy: Reading minds, communication over distance. Requirements(none) Forewarning: Increase reaction time by seeing threats before they happen. You see it mere seconds before. Requirements: Arcane(60) Heightened Awareness: Projects a psychic ghost, predicting the next movement of the targeted person. The ghost is visible only to the person using the power. While it is active, Telepathy and ForeWarning are un-usable. Less effective against those trained to resist psychic powers. Arcane(70) Primary Weapon: Destroyer of Faded Memories: Artemis Acceleration Cannon: This MAW is oriented towards, and only really useful at, long to extreme ranges, with a high resolution scope, and targeting camera, only skilled marksmens may wield this weapon. 4 round magazine. Heavy(25), Ranged(50) Secondary Weapon: Last Hope of the Shadows: MAW-23 Battle Rifle: 4 round burst, 2.4 second wait between bursts. Variable Zoom scope, infrared. Requirements: Ranged(45) Melee: Dawnbreaker, Promise of Grieving Widows: Fractal Edge Longsword Grenades: 3x Plasma 2x Smoke Special Equipment: Dusk: Fractal Shield: This shield is made with ancient and arcane technology, using methods all but lost to the great Empire. Forged from the same metal as Fractal Edged weapons, this shield phases into existence as an object impacts it, and, as it phases out, repairs itself, becoming nigh indestructible. Can be used as a weapon, with the edge acting as a fractal edge sword. Arcane(60) Personality: She is very personable amongst her team, but views outsiders with suspicion, and doesn't talk to those she doesn't know well. In combat, she is either miles from the engagement, providing pinpoint sniper cover, or in the midst of close.combat, teleporting around the battlefield, destroying enemies, while seeming to dodge all attacks, and providing constant updates to the rest of her squad. Bio: Most of her weapons, all save the grenades, were handed down from ages past, weapons wielded by the first member of her family to be born an Imortale Prelitor.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia stroke through the hall not even glancing at the myriad of people around him. He has finally taken his rightful place as an Immortal and no longer would he have to pretend to smile and make nice with the people around him. He could finally revel in what he truly loved. Blood and violence. For years he had trained to master his powers and, although not born a women, his physic powers had become incredibly powerful. Nakinia struck his staff into the ground every step, small sparks flying from the impact point. His sword swayed gently at his hip as he walked. He finally reached the gathering of his 'comrades,' he sneered inwardly as he looked around at them. None of them were his equal save perhaps the leader himself. Towards him Nakinia's expression changed into one of indifference and a slight hint of respect for the ancient warrior. "Nakinia Orbalan reporting in sir." He places special emphasis on his last name to try and show those around him that he was greater than most of them. 'Still' her thought to himself 'I wonder if any of these other immortals will be worthy of one such as me.'</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna held back her surprise with a short gasp when the room filled with immense psychic energy, feeling the shuddering waves warping around the throne before he even signaled his arrival. It was an aura she had never before felt, crippling yet soft and warm. Truly, even though they called her a prodigy, she was like a meager candle held against a raging bonfire. She could only appreciate this fact with a slight nod of her head and a faint smile. To serve, to have purpose meant more to her than anything. When He finally appeared physically, in a flash of brilliant light, she was forced to go 'blind', as to prevent her senses from getting overwhelmed by the sheer power. The young Savantus was almost at a loss, and normally she would be, but Vienna had been prepared for this encounter for a long time now. Doing what she had rehearsed for hours into the mirror the night prior, she immediately dropped onto her knees and bowed, her body laying across the ground in a look of humility. "Hail, the great protector, the Immortal Emperor. With every ounce of my body and soul can offer, may our people prosper under your reign, my god and king." she called, word for word, what they had taught her to say.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera, whose daydreaming sent him to sleep quickly awoke at a mysterious sound and blinding light. Senera quickly got up and brought up his shield to protect his eyes from the light, and cursed himself for not buying a pair of sunglasses. The light began to talk. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me.", it said. Senera then took a deep breath and poked his head from behind the shield to gaze directly a the blinding light. It was bright and caused a great deal of damage to his retina, but he easily regenerated it. It was a magnificent sight. There, a great figure sat on the throne; undoubtedly the emperor. Senera was mesmerized by him. He had heard much about the Emperor, his heroics, kindness, power. Yet, seeing him, and feeling his power in person was a world of a difference. Senera stood there for a while gazing at him. After a while, Senera was able to tear his eyes off the Emperor and look at the men surrounding him. His guard stood around him, along with Zepheus and a few others near him. However, most of them were frowning at him. Senera didn't understand. What were they so upset about. He was just standing there and admiring the Emperor. Then the coin dropped. Standing! A quick look around the hall told Senera told his that he was the only one standing while everyone was kneeling with reverence to the Emperor. What's worse, he was still holding his shield at the Emperor. Senera quickly wore his shield on his back again, and kneeled, facing the dusty ground.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Whether my design, or through the restricted movement of his armour, Enoch is both the first to start kneeling and the last to finish kneeling. Even if - in the same way the Auxilia knew he would one day die and be replaced - this Emperor would eventually pass away and be forgotten through the unrelenting sands of time, as a new Emperor finds his throne. For the time being, he knew respect was demanded and it would be given no matter how difficult it would be. Such thoughts gave way to a metaphor for the mission ahead. No matter the difficulty, the Emperor's will shall be done.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia The Emperor sat for a moment in silence, then motioned for all to rise. "I have called you here, my warriors, to bring my wrath down upon those who would threaten our great Empire! The manufacturing world of Arnax has rebeled, their armies are up in arms, assaulting nearby loyalist worlds. I have already dispatched two full battalion of Marines to begin the siege of the traitorous world. You are to take a state of the art ship from my own personal stock... I want you to find the leader of the Rebellion, a powerful Psychic and aristocrat. Gaius Invictus, of the House Tyrius! My own blood, distant through many generation. this betrayal will not go unpunished... Now go, take the Feronia, my personal exploratory ship, my friend here will accompany you he motions to the silent figure by his side and kill the traitors!" He then suddenly vanished, fading from all detection in a mere instant. The Guards fled back behind the Throne without a word, disappearing from sight. The silent warrior remained, leading you to the docking bay of the great Imperial Spire, there you find a magnificent ship, ready and waiting. The docking bay is vast and cavernous, the great vaulted ceilings adorned lightly with murals of ancient spaceflight. The airlock is open, and the interior almost beckons you.</s>	<\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose looks around, and not seeing anyone else willing to step forward, enters the airlock, 'well come on comrades. Let's do this thing. Prove ourselves worthy of the Emperor's trust.' she finds her weapons in a weapons locker located in the airlock, and she equips her shield and sword</s>
<\|description\|>Senera Fernando Rank: Imortale Prelitor Primus STATS Strength:5 Endurance:10 Agility:5 Psyonic Power:5 Charisma:0 Perception:5 Intelligence:5 SKILLS Melee:100 Ranged:25 Heavy:50 Leadership:25 Acrobatics:25+50=75 Survival:75+25=100 Technology:50 Arcane Knowledge:50+25=75 Stealth:25 Psionic Powers: Forewarning: Increase reaction time by seeing threats before they happen. You see it mere seconds before. Requirements: Arcane(60) Healing Factor/Regeneration: Stave off wounds normally fatal by healing in moments. This can be negated by life drain powers and attacks that affect the soul. Instadeath attacks will kill you regardless. You can die due to blood loss. Requirements: Arcane(50) Supernatural Strength: Your strength is beyond normal limits, also making your endurance much higher. Requirements: Arcane(30) Life Drain: Drain the very life force from your foe, adding to your own. Requirements: Arcane(60) Weapons: Primary:PX3 Rifle: Automatic, medium range, great stopping power. Orange plasma bolts. 400 rounds per power pack. Requirements: Ranged(20) Melee: Fractal Edge Katana Grenades: 2 Plasma Grenades, 2 Smoke Grenades Special Equipment:Storm Shield(An unbreakable shield that has existed in Senera's family for generations) Personality: Senera is generally a kind person. And unless he is fighting an evil bastard, he is usually very merciful. He also trusts people, maybe a bit too much. Even though he is very good at fighting, Senera lacks charisma. So he doesn't talk much and usually avoids large social congregations and events. He would rather train or read a good book. This has led to him developing a stoic attitude. Even when he talks, he is very reserved and talks as less as possible. However when he interacts with people that he considers to be good friends, he talks a lot freely, and his inept social skills start to show. Needless to say, he has made only a few friends. He is also an idealist.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna held back her surprise with a short gasp when the room filled with immense psychic energy, feeling the shuddering waves warping around the throne before he even signaled his arrival. It was an aura she had never before felt, crippling yet soft and warm. Truly, even though they called her a prodigy, she was like a meager candle held against a raging bonfire. She could only appreciate this fact with a slight nod of her head and a faint smile. To serve, to have purpose meant more to her than anything. When He finally appeared physically, in a flash of brilliant light, she was forced to go 'blind', as to prevent her senses from getting overwhelmed by the sheer power. The young Savantus was almost at a loss, and normally she would be, but Vienna had been prepared for this encounter for a long time now. Doing what she had rehearsed for hours into the mirror the night prior, she immediately dropped onto her knees and bowed, her body laying across the ground in a look of humility. "Hail, the great protector, the Immortal Emperor. With every ounce of my body and soul can offer, may our people prosper under your reign, my god and king." she called, word for word, what they had taught her to say.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera, whose daydreaming sent him to sleep quickly awoke at a mysterious sound and blinding light. Senera quickly got up and brought up his shield to protect his eyes from the light, and cursed himself for not buying a pair of sunglasses. The light began to talk. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me.", it said. Senera then took a deep breath and poked his head from behind the shield to gaze directly a the blinding light. It was bright and caused a great deal of damage to his retina, but he easily regenerated it. It was a magnificent sight. There, a great figure sat on the throne; undoubtedly the emperor. Senera was mesmerized by him. He had heard much about the Emperor, his heroics, kindness, power. Yet, seeing him, and feeling his power in person was a world of a difference. Senera stood there for a while gazing at him. After a while, Senera was able to tear his eyes off the Emperor and look at the men surrounding him. His guard stood around him, along with Zepheus and a few others near him. However, most of them were frowning at him. Senera didn't understand. What were they so upset about. He was just standing there and admiring the Emperor. Then the coin dropped. Standing! A quick look around the hall told Senera told his that he was the only one standing while everyone was kneeling with reverence to the Emperor. What's worse, he was still holding his shield at the Emperor. Senera quickly wore his shield on his back again, and kneeled, facing the dusty ground.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Whether my design, or through the restricted movement of his armour, Enoch is both the first to start kneeling and the last to finish kneeling. Even if - in the same way the Auxilia knew he would one day die and be replaced - this Emperor would eventually pass away and be forgotten through the unrelenting sands of time, as a new Emperor finds his throne. For the time being, he knew respect was demanded and it would be given no matter how difficult it would be. Such thoughts gave way to a metaphor for the mission ahead. No matter the difficulty, the Emperor's will shall be done.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia The Emperor sat for a moment in silence, then motioned for all to rise. "I have called you here, my warriors, to bring my wrath down upon those who would threaten our great Empire! The manufacturing world of Arnax has rebeled, their armies are up in arms, assaulting nearby loyalist worlds. I have already dispatched two full battalion of Marines to begin the siege of the traitorous world. You are to take a state of the art ship from my own personal stock... I want you to find the leader of the Rebellion, a powerful Psychic and aristocrat. Gaius Invictus, of the House Tyrius! My own blood, distant through many generation. this betrayal will not go unpunished... Now go, take the Feronia, my personal exploratory ship, my friend here will accompany you he motions to the silent figure by his side and kill the traitors!" He then suddenly vanished, fading from all detection in a mere instant. The Guards fled back behind the Throne without a word, disappearing from sight. The silent warrior remained, leading you to the docking bay of the great Imperial Spire, there you find a magnificent ship, ready and waiting. The docking bay is vast and cavernous, the great vaulted ceilings adorned lightly with murals of ancient spaceflight. The airlock is open, and the interior almost beckons you.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose looks around, and not seeing anyone else willing to step forward, enters the airlock, 'well come on comrades. Let's do this thing. Prove ourselves worthy of the Emperor's trust.' she finds her weapons in a weapons locker located in the airlock, and she equips her shield and sword</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz "It should not only be the Emperor's trust you seek at this time." Enoch grumbles, slowly following her inside, heeding the ship's calling. Beneath his helmet he lets a brief period of glee overcome him. He cannot begin to imagine the technological marvels within one of the Lord Emperor's prized vessels. He hoped the pilot was around to ask about the ship's specifications.</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf Veovulf stood guard at the opening of the ship, watching silently as the new recruits filed inside one by one. He knew the ship well, for he had first gained consciousness within that ship, like a child borne of machines, with the emperor to serve as his father, seeing his smiling face as he took his first steps in life, although at that time, his world was dark and meaningless for he had not yet truly awakened. Veovulf stepped in front of the large enoch, slightly overshadowing the young optima with his mechanized, bio-synthetic stature. "Mind the halls, Prelitor Optima: Enoch...some walls may not accommodate free movement within that issued powered armor, caution is advised." He stepped out of his way again, to allow him free entry, his voice deep and heavily synthesized, sounding as if two were speaking at once. A slight breeze picked up, whipping the black silks about on his body.</s>	<\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera follows the rest of the Imortale Prelitors onto the Feronia, and obtains his Katana; on which the words "七転び八起き (nanakorobi yaoki)" are engraved, and PX3 rifle from the weapons locker. "Everybody seems too bloody eager to get into the fighting. I wonder if they find death appealing." He thinks. He then finds a quiet corner and begins to check on the details of the mission on his data slate; Estimated enemy strength and numbers, defenses, loyalist strength, and numbers, etc... "Gaius Invictus. I wonder why he rebelled. Idiot....."</s>
<\|description\|>Lillian Ketzerin Imortale Prelitor Savantus Arms: 1x MNR REGALIA SMG Special EQ: Powerfist + melee weapon + requires 10 strenght but no skill since it's just punching things. + strong impact on direct hit, capeable of breaking trough armour + shatters bones completly, absolutly lethal to unarmoured targets + cumbersome and slow, might be discarded and retrieved later to have better manuveability + lowers atletic and acrobatic skill by 1 to a minimum of 0 psy-power: Molten Beam Flaming Form Healing Factor/Regeneration Stats: Str: 10 End: 5 Agil: 5 Psy: 10 Char: 5 Percep: 0 Int: 0 Skills: Melee: (10+50+25+25) =110 Ranged: (20) = 20 Heavy: (0+50) = 50 Leadership: (0+25) = 25 Acrobatics: (20+25) = 45 Survival: (20+25) = 45 Technology: (0) = 0 Arcane Knowledge:(30+50)= 80 Stealth: (0+25) = 25 Personality: Impulsive, anarchistic, has some problems with authority. Prefers small groups of comrades over serving in large armies and activly tries to avoid going with the masses, instead Lillian often chooses to side with outcasts. She is neither greedy nor selfless, she seems to choose to do things especially then, when it's the less favored side. However, she does accept that she can be wrong and generally tries not to hurt or kill anyone unless neccessary. On the Contrary, when provoked seems to go into an almost sadistic killing spree among those that she deems 'enemies'. Doesn't seem to have a strict Moral code when it comes to breaking laws. She tends to become loyal to people that she likes instead of people of power or authority. This doesn't mean that she cannot follow orders, but she will question them loudly and often laughs at superiors. She prefers to follow example instead of word.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch returns the brisk nod toward the passing Rose; the electrical servos nestled within his armour plate grind and squeal as he elevates himself back to a standing position. His imposing 9ft frame is yet more dramatic with the application of the incredibly thick and heavy Power Armour he has adopted for this meeting. The sheer bulk of it rises him to at least another foot off the ground, and nearly twice as wide as any other Prelitor in the room. "Auxilia Optima: you remember correctly." Enoch makes no effort to even glance at anyone else. They are not deserving of neither his words nor his look, until the Prelitor can deem them worthy of his respect.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus keeps his eye on the solemn woman with the covering over her eyes. A Savantus of great power and greater potential... But would she have what it takes to be a part of this team? That had yet to be seen. In all his long years of service, eight centuries of life, he had seen countless warriors and sages like the ones around him. They had been young, strong, and full of youth just as these men and women are. And they were all dead. Broken by conflicts past, the mighty armies of religious zealots, the nawing hunger of the Great Swarm, the mindless violence of the Walking War. He was one of the oldest Imortale Prelitor left alive, many the elders had been slain, so to many of the younger warriors, barely baptized in their first war. He would now lead a new generation of warriors, sages, maniacs, and kind souls to war, and all of its horrors. He turned to the Furia that had introduced herself, and was now speaking to the Savantus. He had seen recordings of her training, and was impressed. She would make a fine warrior if she survived long enough. He looked now at the Auxillia Optima before him. A heavy weapons expert and defensive/offensive fighter that could suit many a situation. He stood, waiting for the others to reveal themselves.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Without anyone else who appears to require him, Enoch chooses to stand parallel to Zepheus, on his right flank, and glares behind harsh yellow lenses at the other Prelitors who litter the room. Various mumblings sound from within his helmet; the tips of the fingers across his left hand tap rhythmically against his chestplate, dancing beneath his folded arms.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera approaches and bows in front of Zepheus, the leader of this operation. Then he walks away to a silent corner and sits down, and used his shield which is now strapped on his back as support as he reclines on the wall behind him. A few take notice and make a few snarky comments, but Senera's reclining comfortably, while they're still standing. Too much noise. He thinks to himself. He would love to get some shut eye but, he has no idea what's going to happen next so he just stays there, daydreaming about some situations that he read in his novels.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Lillian looks at Zepheus, as if measuring him herself, for a short moment - about the time it takes to blink two times, then she bows forward with a straight back, lowering her gaze to the floor. Some seconds later, she looks up without a single word and into face behind the helmet, awaiting his words.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus looks back at the Savantus, the glare of his eyeless helm lending to an aura of unnatural uneasiness. "Savantus, state your name." he commanded in a cool, but firm tone</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna winced upon hearing the words, shoulders pushing up tensely. Her head darted back and forth as her mind scrambled to refocus, the shape of the figure registering in the darkness. She really was too absorbed within her own worries she didn't even notice this new arrival. She turned to face the approaching woman with a half-smile, embarrassed by her own skittishness. "Ah... my, don't worry about me... I am just thinking..." she paused. 'Wait. What kind of answer was that, Vienna? Hurry, you still have time to explain yourself! Choose words. She's going to think you've a mental disorder, or worse...!' But try as she might, all that came of her mouth were befuddled 'umms' and 'ahhs'. Her grin quickly faltered as she started panicking at the inability to find any real words. It was like the thoughts in her mind were just flushed down a drain, leaving her with complete blanks. Seconds felt like minutes as she struggled internally, mouth pinched as she squirmed in her boots. Vienna wanted to just back away into a dark corner and just die of embarrassment. But she couldn't just let the kind gesture go to waste, especially when they first initiated the interaction. This was the first time someone approached her on their own. Usually it was the opposite. No one wanted to even step anywhere near the ticking psionic bomb. She probably didn't even know about her dangerous reputation, so that's why. But still, to her, it was the thought was what mattered the most. Despite being strangers, they went out of her way to offer help to her, without even being asked. It might seem trivial to anyone who was even marginally socially adequate, but to Vienna, this woman appeared truly noble. Wait. A stranger! That's right, before every conversation was an exchange of names. She immediately bowed her head, hoping she could hide the darkness settling in her cheeks, "A-ah... where are my manners? I-I am Vienna Marx Sorielus... it is a pleasure to have you acquaintance, dear sister-in-arms..." Vienna remained this way, both awaiting a response while trying her best to keep her heart still. Blood was rushing into her face, the added heat making it feel like she was being cooked alive. She could faint from this unbearable stress at any moment. Her hands were shaking, she could feel them. What would her instructors think if they saw her now? She didn't want to disappoint them after all they did for her, not after the promise she made to herself and all the others. She had finally been given a chance to prove herself. She cursed herself. How would she even handle such an important duty as being an Imortale Prelitor if she couldn't handle something as simple as this? She didn't dare allow her mind to imagine the response this person would have to her odd mannerisms. ...</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia stroke through the hall not even glancing at the myriad of people around him. He has finally taken his rightful place as an Immortal and no longer would he have to pretend to smile and make nice with the people around him. He could finally revel in what he truly loved. Blood and violence. For years he had trained to master his powers and, although not born a women, his physic powers had become incredibly powerful. Nakinia struck his staff into the ground every step, small sparks flying from the impact point. His sword swayed gently at his hip as he walked. He finally reached the gathering of his 'comrades,' he sneered inwardly as he looked around at them. None of them were his equal save perhaps the leader himself. Towards him Nakinia's expression changed into one of indifference and a slight hint of respect for the ancient warrior. "Nakinia Orbalan reporting in sir." He places special emphasis on his last name to try and show those around him that he was greater than most of them. 'Still' her thought to himself 'I wonder if any of these other immortals will be worthy of one such as me.'</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s>	<\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s>
<\|description\|>Lillian Ketzerin Imortale Prelitor Savantus Arms: 1x MNR REGALIA SMG Special EQ: Powerfist + melee weapon + requires 10 strenght but no skill since it's just punching things. + strong impact on direct hit, capeable of breaking trough armour + shatters bones completly, absolutly lethal to unarmoured targets + cumbersome and slow, might be discarded and retrieved later to have better manuveability + lowers atletic and acrobatic skill by 1 to a minimum of 0 psy-power: Molten Beam Flaming Form Healing Factor/Regeneration Stats: Str: 10 End: 5 Agil: 5 Psy: 10 Char: 5 Percep: 0 Int: 0 Skills: Melee: (10+50+25+25) =110 Ranged: (20) = 20 Heavy: (0+50) = 50 Leadership: (0+25) = 25 Acrobatics: (20+25) = 45 Survival: (20+25) = 45 Technology: (0) = 0 Arcane Knowledge:(30+50)= 80 Stealth: (0+25) = 25 Personality: Impulsive, anarchistic, has some problems with authority. Prefers small groups of comrades over serving in large armies and activly tries to avoid going with the masses, instead Lillian often chooses to side with outcasts. She is neither greedy nor selfless, she seems to choose to do things especially then, when it's the less favored side. However, she does accept that she can be wrong and generally tries not to hurt or kill anyone unless neccessary. On the Contrary, when provoked seems to go into an almost sadistic killing spree among those that she deems 'enemies'. Doesn't seem to have a strict Moral code when it comes to breaking laws. She tends to become loyal to people that she likes instead of people of power or authority. This doesn't mean that she cannot follow orders, but she will question them loudly and often laughs at superiors. She prefers to follow example instead of word.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna held back her surprise with a short gasp when the room filled with immense psychic energy, feeling the shuddering waves warping around the throne before he even signaled his arrival. It was an aura she had never before felt, crippling yet soft and warm. Truly, even though they called her a prodigy, she was like a meager candle held against a raging bonfire. She could only appreciate this fact with a slight nod of her head and a faint smile. To serve, to have purpose meant more to her than anything. When He finally appeared physically, in a flash of brilliant light, she was forced to go 'blind', as to prevent her senses from getting overwhelmed by the sheer power. The young Savantus was almost at a loss, and normally she would be, but Vienna had been prepared for this encounter for a long time now. Doing what she had rehearsed for hours into the mirror the night prior, she immediately dropped onto her knees and bowed, her body laying across the ground in a look of humility. "Hail, the great protector, the Immortal Emperor. With every ounce of my body and soul can offer, may our people prosper under your reign, my god and king." she called, word for word, what they had taught her to say.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera, whose daydreaming sent him to sleep quickly awoke at a mysterious sound and blinding light. Senera quickly got up and brought up his shield to protect his eyes from the light, and cursed himself for not buying a pair of sunglasses. The light began to talk. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me.", it said. Senera then took a deep breath and poked his head from behind the shield to gaze directly a the blinding light. It was bright and caused a great deal of damage to his retina, but he easily regenerated it. It was a magnificent sight. There, a great figure sat on the throne; undoubtedly the emperor. Senera was mesmerized by him. He had heard much about the Emperor, his heroics, kindness, power. Yet, seeing him, and feeling his power in person was a world of a difference. Senera stood there for a while gazing at him. After a while, Senera was able to tear his eyes off the Emperor and look at the men surrounding him. His guard stood around him, along with Zepheus and a few others near him. However, most of them were frowning at him. Senera didn't understand. What were they so upset about. He was just standing there and admiring the Emperor. Then the coin dropped. Standing! A quick look around the hall told Senera told his that he was the only one standing while everyone was kneeling with reverence to the Emperor. What's worse, he was still holding his shield at the Emperor. Senera quickly wore his shield on his back again, and kneeled, facing the dusty ground.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Whether my design, or through the restricted movement of his armour, Enoch is both the first to start kneeling and the last to finish kneeling. Even if - in the same way the Auxilia knew he would one day die and be replaced - this Emperor would eventually pass away and be forgotten through the unrelenting sands of time, as a new Emperor finds his throne. For the time being, he knew respect was demanded and it would be given no matter how difficult it would be. Such thoughts gave way to a metaphor for the mission ahead. No matter the difficulty, the Emperor's will shall be done.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia The Emperor sat for a moment in silence, then motioned for all to rise. "I have called you here, my warriors, to bring my wrath down upon those who would threaten our great Empire! The manufacturing world of Arnax has rebeled, their armies are up in arms, assaulting nearby loyalist worlds. I have already dispatched two full battalion of Marines to begin the siege of the traitorous world. You are to take a state of the art ship from my own personal stock... I want you to find the leader of the Rebellion, a powerful Psychic and aristocrat. Gaius Invictus, of the House Tyrius! My own blood, distant through many generation. this betrayal will not go unpunished... Now go, take the Feronia, my personal exploratory ship, my friend here will accompany you he motions to the silent figure by his side and kill the traitors!" He then suddenly vanished, fading from all detection in a mere instant. The Guards fled back behind the Throne without a word, disappearing from sight. The silent warrior remained, leading you to the docking bay of the great Imperial Spire, there you find a magnificent ship, ready and waiting. The docking bay is vast and cavernous, the great vaulted ceilings adorned lightly with murals of ancient spaceflight. The airlock is open, and the interior almost beckons you.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose looks around, and not seeing anyone else willing to step forward, enters the airlock, 'well come on comrades. Let's do this thing. Prove ourselves worthy of the Emperor's trust.' she finds her weapons in a weapons locker located in the airlock, and she equips her shield and sword</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz "It should not only be the Emperor's trust you seek at this time." Enoch grumbles, slowly following her inside, heeding the ship's calling. Beneath his helmet he lets a brief period of glee overcome him. He cannot begin to imagine the technological marvels within one of the Lord Emperor's prized vessels. He hoped the pilot was around to ask about the ship's specifications.</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf Veovulf stood guard at the opening of the ship, watching silently as the new recruits filed inside one by one. He knew the ship well, for he had first gained consciousness within that ship, like a child borne of machines, with the emperor to serve as his father, seeing his smiling face as he took his first steps in life, although at that time, his world was dark and meaningless for he had not yet truly awakened. Veovulf stepped in front of the large enoch, slightly overshadowing the young optima with his mechanized, bio-synthetic stature. "Mind the halls, Prelitor Optima: Enoch...some walls may not accommodate free movement within that issued powered armor, caution is advised." He stepped out of his way again, to allow him free entry, his voice deep and heavily synthesized, sounding as if two were speaking at once. A slight breeze picked up, whipping the black silks about on his body.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera follows the rest of the Imortale Prelitors onto the Feronia, and obtains his Katana; on which the words "七転び八起き (nanakorobi yaoki)" are engraved, and PX3 rifle from the weapons locker. "Everybody seems too bloody eager to get into the fighting. I wonder if they find death appealing." He thinks. He then finds a quiet corner and begins to check on the details of the mission on his data slate; Estimated enemy strength and numbers, defenses, loyalist strength, and numbers, etc... "Gaius Invictus. I wonder why he rebelled. Idiot....."</s>	<\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Lillian looks arround but fails at finding her locker. "I guess I'll have to punch him to death then." Seeing Veovulf and Enoch talk, she joins them, after all, maybe they know where her locker is.</s>
<\|description\|>Nakinia Orbalan If this is still open here is my take at a character. Rank: Imortale Prelitor Savantus Stats Strength: 3 Endurance: 3 Agility: 6 Psy Power: 10 Charisma: 3 Perception: 3 Intelligence: 7 Skills Melee: 15+15+30=60 Ranged Weapons: 15+10+40=65 Heavy Weapons: 15+15=30 Leadership: 35=35 Acrobatics: 30+20+20=70 Survival: 15+35+10=60 Technology: 15+35=50 Arcane Knowledge: 50+35+15=100 Stealth: 30=30 Psyonic Powers: Lightning: Shoot torrents of lightning at foes. Requirements: Arcane(30) Teleportation: Teleport short distances in an instant, overuse could lead to you fading from existence. Requirements: Arcane(50) Molten Beam: You can project gouts of pure flame from your hands, melting even metal. Requirements: Arcane(40) Life Drain: Drain the very life force from your foe, adding to your own. Requirements: Arcane(60) Telekinesis: Manipulation of objects with ones mind. Barriers. Requirements: Arcane(50) Weapons Primary:MAW-23 Battle Rifle: 4 round burst, 2.4 second wait between bursts. Variable Zoom scope, infrared. Requirements: Ranged(45) Secondary:MNR REGALIA SMG: Light plasma bolts fire at rapid pace (Orange). 1000 rounds per power pack. One handed. Requirements: Ranged(15) Melee:Fractal Edge Short sword Grenades: Tactical: 3x Smoke Special Equipment: Ceremonial Staff of Orbalan:Given to him by his father, and given to his father by his father's father, this staff has been passed down through generations of this great family. It allows the focusing of Psy powers with greater ease and allows their use more frequently. Personality: Nakinia is arrogant and uncaring of most of those around him. Being brought up in one of the most powerful clans has made him see most of those around him as lesser. He is uncaring of who his actions harm and what they result in as long as they benefit him or the empire. Despite this he tends to be incredibly protective of those he deems as friends and will do anything to protect them no matter the cost. Becoming friends with him is greatly difficult as he views most as unimportant and had experienced betrayal which makes him wary of those around him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus keeps his eye on the solemn woman with the covering over her eyes. A Savantus of great power and greater potential... But would she have what it takes to be a part of this team? That had yet to be seen. In all his long years of service, eight centuries of life, he had seen countless warriors and sages like the ones around him. They had been young, strong, and full of youth just as these men and women are. And they were all dead. Broken by conflicts past, the mighty armies of religious zealots, the nawing hunger of the Great Swarm, the mindless violence of the Walking War. He was one of the oldest Imortale Prelitor left alive, many the elders had been slain, so to many of the younger warriors, barely baptized in their first war. He would now lead a new generation of warriors, sages, maniacs, and kind souls to war, and all of its horrors. He turned to the Furia that had introduced herself, and was now speaking to the Savantus. He had seen recordings of her training, and was impressed. She would make a fine warrior if she survived long enough. He looked now at the Auxillia Optima before him. A heavy weapons expert and defensive/offensive fighter that could suit many a situation. He stood, waiting for the others to reveal themselves.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Without anyone else who appears to require him, Enoch chooses to stand parallel to Zepheus, on his right flank, and glares behind harsh yellow lenses at the other Prelitors who litter the room. Various mumblings sound from within his helmet; the tips of the fingers across his left hand tap rhythmically against his chestplate, dancing beneath his folded arms.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera approaches and bows in front of Zepheus, the leader of this operation. Then he walks away to a silent corner and sits down, and used his shield which is now strapped on his back as support as he reclines on the wall behind him. A few take notice and make a few snarky comments, but Senera's reclining comfortably, while they're still standing. Too much noise. He thinks to himself. He would love to get some shut eye but, he has no idea what's going to happen next so he just stays there, daydreaming about some situations that he read in his novels.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Lillian looks at Zepheus, as if measuring him herself, for a short moment - about the time it takes to blink two times, then she bows forward with a straight back, lowering her gaze to the floor. Some seconds later, she looks up without a single word and into face behind the helmet, awaiting his words.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus looks back at the Savantus, the glare of his eyeless helm lending to an aura of unnatural uneasiness. "Savantus, state your name." he commanded in a cool, but firm tone</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna winced upon hearing the words, shoulders pushing up tensely. Her head darted back and forth as her mind scrambled to refocus, the shape of the figure registering in the darkness. She really was too absorbed within her own worries she didn't even notice this new arrival. She turned to face the approaching woman with a half-smile, embarrassed by her own skittishness. "Ah... my, don't worry about me... I am just thinking..." she paused. 'Wait. What kind of answer was that, Vienna? Hurry, you still have time to explain yourself! Choose words. She's going to think you've a mental disorder, or worse...!' But try as she might, all that came of her mouth were befuddled 'umms' and 'ahhs'. Her grin quickly faltered as she started panicking at the inability to find any real words. It was like the thoughts in her mind were just flushed down a drain, leaving her with complete blanks. Seconds felt like minutes as she struggled internally, mouth pinched as she squirmed in her boots. Vienna wanted to just back away into a dark corner and just die of embarrassment. But she couldn't just let the kind gesture go to waste, especially when they first initiated the interaction. This was the first time someone approached her on their own. Usually it was the opposite. No one wanted to even step anywhere near the ticking psionic bomb. She probably didn't even know about her dangerous reputation, so that's why. But still, to her, it was the thought was what mattered the most. Despite being strangers, they went out of her way to offer help to her, without even being asked. It might seem trivial to anyone who was even marginally socially adequate, but to Vienna, this woman appeared truly noble. Wait. A stranger! That's right, before every conversation was an exchange of names. She immediately bowed her head, hoping she could hide the darkness settling in her cheeks, "A-ah... where are my manners? I-I am Vienna Marx Sorielus... it is a pleasure to have you acquaintance, dear sister-in-arms..." Vienna remained this way, both awaiting a response while trying her best to keep her heart still. Blood was rushing into her face, the added heat making it feel like she was being cooked alive. She could faint from this unbearable stress at any moment. Her hands were shaking, she could feel them. What would her instructors think if they saw her now? She didn't want to disappoint them after all they did for her, not after the promise she made to herself and all the others. She had finally been given a chance to prove herself. She cursed herself. How would she even handle such an important duty as being an Imortale Prelitor if she couldn't handle something as simple as this? She didn't dare allow her mind to imagine the response this person would have to her odd mannerisms. ...</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia stroke through the hall not even glancing at the myriad of people around him. He has finally taken his rightful place as an Immortal and no longer would he have to pretend to smile and make nice with the people around him. He could finally revel in what he truly loved. Blood and violence. For years he had trained to master his powers and, although not born a women, his physic powers had become incredibly powerful. Nakinia struck his staff into the ground every step, small sparks flying from the impact point. His sword swayed gently at his hip as he walked. He finally reached the gathering of his 'comrades,' he sneered inwardly as he looked around at them. None of them were his equal save perhaps the leader himself. Towards him Nakinia's expression changed into one of indifference and a slight hint of respect for the ancient warrior. "Nakinia Orbalan reporting in sir." He places special emphasis on his last name to try and show those around him that he was greater than most of them. 'Still' her thought to himself 'I wonder if any of these other immortals will be worthy of one such as me.'</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s>	<\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s>
<\|description\|>Veovulf Rank: Imortale Pretors Ceorcitor STATS Strength:5 Endurance:10 Agility:5 Psyonic Power:5 Charisma:0 Perception:5 Intelligence:5 SKILLS Melee:100 Ranged:25 Heavy:50 Leadership:25 Acrobatics:25+50=75 Survival:75+25=100 Technology:50 Arcane Knowledge:50+25=75 Stealth:25 abilities regen forewarning exalted blades: move set channeling energy into enhanced blade attacks. move subset: slash dash: surge forward with the exalted blade, slashing at anything in the way. exalted blade: manifest power into summoning the exalted blade, a blade of pure light energy capable of casting ranged energy slash attacks Weapons: MAW-P assult rifle MAW-P pistol</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia stroke through the hall not even glancing at the myriad of people around him. He has finally taken his rightful place as an Immortal and no longer would he have to pretend to smile and make nice with the people around him. He could finally revel in what he truly loved. Blood and violence. For years he had trained to master his powers and, although not born a women, his physic powers had become incredibly powerful. Nakinia struck his staff into the ground every step, small sparks flying from the impact point. His sword swayed gently at his hip as he walked. He finally reached the gathering of his 'comrades,' he sneered inwardly as he looked around at them. None of them were his equal save perhaps the leader himself. Towards him Nakinia's expression changed into one of indifference and a slight hint of respect for the ancient warrior. "Nakinia Orbalan reporting in sir." He places special emphasis on his last name to try and show those around him that he was greater than most of them. 'Still' her thought to himself 'I wonder if any of these other immortals will be worthy of one such as me.'</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna held back her surprise with a short gasp when the room filled with immense psychic energy, feeling the shuddering waves warping around the throne before he even signaled his arrival. It was an aura she had never before felt, crippling yet soft and warm. Truly, even though they called her a prodigy, she was like a meager candle held against a raging bonfire. She could only appreciate this fact with a slight nod of her head and a faint smile. To serve, to have purpose meant more to her than anything. When He finally appeared physically, in a flash of brilliant light, she was forced to go 'blind', as to prevent her senses from getting overwhelmed by the sheer power. The young Savantus was almost at a loss, and normally she would be, but Vienna had been prepared for this encounter for a long time now. Doing what she had rehearsed for hours into the mirror the night prior, she immediately dropped onto her knees and bowed, her body laying across the ground in a look of humility. "Hail, the great protector, the Immortal Emperor. With every ounce of my body and soul can offer, may our people prosper under your reign, my god and king." she called, word for word, what they had taught her to say.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera, whose daydreaming sent him to sleep quickly awoke at a mysterious sound and blinding light. Senera quickly got up and brought up his shield to protect his eyes from the light, and cursed himself for not buying a pair of sunglasses. The light began to talk. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me.", it said. Senera then took a deep breath and poked his head from behind the shield to gaze directly a the blinding light. It was bright and caused a great deal of damage to his retina, but he easily regenerated it. It was a magnificent sight. There, a great figure sat on the throne; undoubtedly the emperor. Senera was mesmerized by him. He had heard much about the Emperor, his heroics, kindness, power. Yet, seeing him, and feeling his power in person was a world of a difference. Senera stood there for a while gazing at him. After a while, Senera was able to tear his eyes off the Emperor and look at the men surrounding him. His guard stood around him, along with Zepheus and a few others near him. However, most of them were frowning at him. Senera didn't understand. What were they so upset about. He was just standing there and admiring the Emperor. Then the coin dropped. Standing! A quick look around the hall told Senera told his that he was the only one standing while everyone was kneeling with reverence to the Emperor. What's worse, he was still holding his shield at the Emperor. Senera quickly wore his shield on his back again, and kneeled, facing the dusty ground.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Whether my design, or through the restricted movement of his armour, Enoch is both the first to start kneeling and the last to finish kneeling. Even if - in the same way the Auxilia knew he would one day die and be replaced - this Emperor would eventually pass away and be forgotten through the unrelenting sands of time, as a new Emperor finds his throne. For the time being, he knew respect was demanded and it would be given no matter how difficult it would be. Such thoughts gave way to a metaphor for the mission ahead. No matter the difficulty, the Emperor's will shall be done.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia The Emperor sat for a moment in silence, then motioned for all to rise. "I have called you here, my warriors, to bring my wrath down upon those who would threaten our great Empire! The manufacturing world of Arnax has rebeled, their armies are up in arms, assaulting nearby loyalist worlds. I have already dispatched two full battalion of Marines to begin the siege of the traitorous world. You are to take a state of the art ship from my own personal stock... I want you to find the leader of the Rebellion, a powerful Psychic and aristocrat. Gaius Invictus, of the House Tyrius! My own blood, distant through many generation. this betrayal will not go unpunished... Now go, take the Feronia, my personal exploratory ship, my friend here will accompany you he motions to the silent figure by his side and kill the traitors!" He then suddenly vanished, fading from all detection in a mere instant. The Guards fled back behind the Throne without a word, disappearing from sight. The silent warrior remained, leading you to the docking bay of the great Imperial Spire, there you find a magnificent ship, ready and waiting. The docking bay is vast and cavernous, the great vaulted ceilings adorned lightly with murals of ancient spaceflight. The airlock is open, and the interior almost beckons you.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose looks around, and not seeing anyone else willing to step forward, enters the airlock, 'well come on comrades. Let's do this thing. Prove ourselves worthy of the Emperor's trust.' she finds her weapons in a weapons locker located in the airlock, and she equips her shield and sword</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz "It should not only be the Emperor's trust you seek at this time." Enoch grumbles, slowly following her inside, heeding the ship's calling. Beneath his helmet he lets a brief period of glee overcome him. He cannot begin to imagine the technological marvels within one of the Lord Emperor's prized vessels. He hoped the pilot was around to ask about the ship's specifications.</s>	<\|message\|>Veovulf Veovulf stood guard at the opening of the ship, watching silently as the new recruits filed inside one by one. He knew the ship well, for he had first gained consciousness within that ship, like a child borne of machines, with the emperor to serve as his father, seeing his smiling face as he took his first steps in life, although at that time, his world was dark and meaningless for he had not yet truly awakened. Veovulf stepped in front of the large enoch, slightly overshadowing the young optima with his mechanized, bio-synthetic stature. "Mind the halls, Prelitor Optima: Enoch...some walls may not accommodate free movement within that issued powered armor, caution is advised." He stepped out of his way again, to allow him free entry, his voice deep and heavily synthesized, sounding as if two were speaking at once. A slight breeze picked up, whipping the black silks about on his body.</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Tōnan Gyakuten --- It was a somewhat dreary afternoon. It wasn't raining, but the weather hadn't been predicted to be particularly pleasant. It didn't take some trained professional to be able to tell that there was going to be rain today. The dark clouds, the heavy air, even that strange smell that permeated the atmosphere, it all spoke of a storm. Toshiko lit a cigarette, and inhaled. The smoke rushed in, and she took the cigarette from her mouth and blew it out. She raised an eyebrow at the paper before her. She'd received the phone call, and then a fax. The family seemed quite desperate to retrieve what had been taken... To say nothing of what had been stolen, the circumstances were curious. The room wasn't so much a room as a heavily-protected vault, yet nothing had been destroyed. The walls were intact, so was the door... and it was tightly locked. The spells in place to protect the item were still intact, or at least that's what the family believed. There was no sign of... well, anything, really, as far as the family had been able to tell. The only difference in the entire house was that the stolen item was missing. Toshiko took another drag on her cigarette, and blew the smoke out. This... this was, to begin with, an undeniably supernatural case. And the family was quite willing to pay very well... To be honest, Toshiko currently found herself utterly without any spending money. A well-paying case, a curious case like this... Her employee would be downstairs by now, or at least on their way to the agency. It was time to speak to them about this case. Getting to her feet, Toshiko walked through her dimly-lit office, passing stacks of paper and the single old television. She walked to the door and pulled it open, before beginning to head downstairs. It was time to solve a theft.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Downstairs, the agency's current sole employee was lounging on a saggy and faded couch, bare legs draped over one armrest. Its out of the way spot was perfect for Ryuuko's uses: good sight of the staircase if Toshiko came down, a sight of the door should some customer miraculously find the building, and in a straight line from a window. Even in her brief time here so far, the beaten-up couch had shown to be a wonderfully warm spot on a sunny day. Entirely unlike today. The thick air spoke of rain and a grey pallor hung over everything. The heiress had turned on the lights, and resolved once again to get a better lampshade for Toshiko's seemingly endless supply of incandescent bulbs, before taking her usual spot and reading through everything she'd so far learned about the way magic worked. It wasn't very encouraging reading, at least with her affinity in mind: all the simple demonstrations seemed to involve actively doing something. From the get-go, she was disadvantaged in even doing that. No lighting a candle, no breeze through the hair... not without more work. She sighed, putting the binder aside and falling back. A sound from the stairs caught Ryuuko's attention and she sat up again, looking in Toshiko's direction, "Tea? You're earlier than normal."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko paused for only a moment when she saw the girl lying on her couch. Ah, her... currently single employee, and rather ironically part of an organized crime family. However, that was not the sort of crime that the redheaded mage had formed this agency in order to counteract. Besides, she was hardly about to protest at being employed to teach someone magic, especially if it allowed her to have assistance on cases. She eyed the tea for only a moment before responding. "I think I'd enjoy a cup of tea," she said, simply, before putting her cigarette in her mouth and taking another long drag. After a moment, she took it out, and the smoke curled into the air. Ah, such a grey, dreary day... not at all reflective of the relative optimism that had risen in the woman's heart. After all, she had a case, at last. Funds were running particularly thin... "But aside from that," she continued, raising the case file, "We've got a new case. They've been in contact since last night. It's a theft, and they're pretty eager to get us down there." She offered the file to the yakuza princess.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Certain parts of Toshiko were more notable than others but they were quickly ignored through a veil of professionalism. Reading the same things so much was boring, even if it had the potential to reshape her skills entirely. Even the ritual of making tea, brought from a fine art to a simple, crass process of making a drink, was a welcome respite from trying to work out the "simplest expression of your affinity": what was simple about an absence? Ryuuko swung her legs off the couch and set the water to boil, smoothing down today's simpler, green kimono whilst waiting. They had a case? That was a welcome development, since she'd always expected a detective agency to be more interesting. The gaps between cases were certainly teaching her a childhood's worth of lessons on being lazy. It was almost disappointing that it was only a theft... The detective offered her a file whilst the tea was starting to brew and she glanced through it, noting the oddities. She placed it on a table before removing the leaves and handing the cup over, then looked again in more detail. Stolen without a trace... "If the security was defeated without being disabled, then only someone who knew the security intimately could be responsible. I expect a family member or someone in their employ, as no spy with enough skill would lower themselves to mere thievery," the heiress stated, her own cup clasped between two hands.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko took a sip of her tea, and decided to elaborate a bit more on some matters that the case file didn't exactly clarify. "Now, I'm not sure if you're aware of the history of the Daidouji family, but I'll give a quick rundown just in case you're not. The Daidouji Mage family has splintered into many, many branches. Every single last one of these branches hates the other. And when I say hates, I mean backstabbing and murder aren't out of the realm of possibility when it comes to one branch to another. Our suspect may be the member of another branch," she explained. It was certainly the case. Toshiko had once met one of the Daidouji heirs. She was a gorgeous girl, short, deep black hair. She had told Toshiko her ultimate goal was to kill her uncle, who had apparently stolen her mother's magic grimoire. She didn't know if the girl had succeeded, but regardless of if she had or not it was rather clear to Toshiko what kind of family she was dealing with. The fierce rivalries between each of the branches had only grown more and more violent as time went on. Ah, such was the Daidouji. "Your guess at the perpetrator being a family member is hardly an unlikely one," she concluded, taking another sip of tea.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko's eyes narrowed as the family was described. Old enough to have splintered repeatedly and yet every branch was claiming equal importance... yet owing none of the loyalty to one another that such a description would suggest. To her, someone that placed her family's wishes before anything else, such a self-interested approach to the rest of one's relatives was abhorrent. Well, maybe the Miura's lack of fragmentation helped--for instance, she had no siblings--but to intentionally set out to kill one another as a matter of course... This wasn't her detective agency, however, and dealing with unsavoury sorts was part of her education. No matter that such a group offended her sensibilities, Ryuuko would stomach them for the sake of their contract. If any information might present itself that might aid her father... well, she'd ask Toshiko when the time came. The girl took another drink of the cooling tea, looking once more at her teacher: "If this family cannot trust their kin, I hope that we shall not rely on their hospitality. I will be bringing my sword but there is little I can do against magic."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Trust their kin? My, the prospect of that was... interesting. Toshiko's own family had once attempted to murder her, simply because she rejected what she saw as a fool's errand. Even now, as her sister's efforts had cooled their rage, they still sought to punish her for what they saw as a betrayal. Even her sister thought she needed some kind of punishment... and for what? It wasn't as if she was the one who had been cheated out of learning ancient magic from the time of Babylon. It wasn't as if she was the one who continued to believe in an impossibility. Humans could quite simply no longer obtain the Origin of All. That bloody ritual that promised the origin to the one who claimed the white night was nothing less then the act of fools. Toshiko took another sip of tea. "It's not as if I'm unfamiliar with an untrustworthy family," the redheaded woman commented, simply, in an off-hand fashion, "In any case, we should probably get moving. The sooner we reach them and solve this case, the sooner we can get paid."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The swordswoman set aside her remaining tea and began preparing to go out. It wouldn't make sense to visit a crime scene unarmed and unshod, and she always made sure to have another knife as backup in case things got out of hand. Most people would let their guard down if they saw someone visibly disarmed, no matter how supernatural. It was as she was picking up the sword, now properly dressed for going outdoors--not that the addition of socks was really that large of a change--that the inevitable downside of Toshiko deciding 'the sooner we reach them' reared its head. Particularly because speed was not of the essence to Ryuuko, as the money made no difference to her... "Ah, Toshiko-san, could you possibly allow me to drive?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ah?" As Toshiko headed for the door, she glanced back over her shoulder. Ryuuko wanted to drive? Why was that? After all, Toshiko felt that she always made incredibly decent time when driving. They always arrived far under the projected time of arrival, didn't they? Of course. So what was the reason for Ryuuko had for wanting to drive? "Why do you ask, Ryuuko-kun?" Toshiko answered the question with one of her own.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It amazed Ryuuko that Toshiko couldn't see how bad her driving was. Even magi didn't seem to be so insular that "everyone else in the world considers doing it that badly to be a terrible idea" and yet Toshiko had gained a car and used it for years without the slightest bit of trouble. More than her magical abilities, it was her ability to get away with such driving that was truly frightening. But that couldn't be said to her face. "I believe that we might make a better impression if we arrive in less of a visible hurry." And if she didn't arrive suppressing the urge to throw up.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko was rather quick with a counterpoint of her own. "Ah, but if it looks like we just took our time, wouldn't that make the clients believe we aren't taking things seriously?" she asked. Toshiko was, in general, rather pleased with her driving abilities. She never hit anything, she didn't think anyone was in danger, and the police never got after her. All in all, it was pretty good for someone with no driver's licence who had never taken a single lesson. Self-taught driving was just as good as anything else, right?</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The swordswoman set aside her remaining tea and began preparing to go out. It wouldn't make sense to visit a crime scene unarmed and unshod, and she always made sure to have another knife as backup in case things got out of hand. Most people would let their guard down if they saw someone visibly disarmed, no matter how supernatural. It was as she was picking up the sword, now properly dressed for going outdoors--not that the addition of socks was really that large of a change--that the inevitable downside of Toshiko deciding 'the sooner we reach them' reared its head. Particularly because speed was not of the essence to Ryuuko, as the money made no difference to her... "Ah, Toshiko-san, could you possibly allow me to drive?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ah?" As Toshiko headed for the door, she glanced back over her shoulder. Ryuuko wanted to drive? Why was that? After all, Toshiko felt that she always made incredibly decent time when driving. They always arrived far under the projected time of arrival, didn't they? Of course. So what was the reason for Ryuuko had for wanting to drive? "Why do you ask, Ryuuko-kun?" Toshiko answered the question with one of her own.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It amazed Ryuuko that Toshiko couldn't see how bad her driving was. Even magi didn't seem to be so insular that "everyone else in the world considers doing it that badly to be a terrible idea" and yet Toshiko had gained a car and used it for years without the slightest bit of trouble. More than her magical abilities, it was her ability to get away with such driving that was truly frightening. But that couldn't be said to her face. "I believe that we might make a better impression if we arrive in less of a visible hurry." And if she didn't arrive suppressing the urge to throw up.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko was rather quick with a counterpoint of her own. "Ah, but if it looks like we just took our time, wouldn't that make the clients believe we aren't taking things seriously?" she asked. Toshiko was, in general, rather pleased with her driving abilities. She never hit anything, she didn't think anyone was in danger, and the police never got after her. All in all, it was pretty good for someone with no driver's licence who had never taken a single lesson. Self-taught driving was just as good as anything else, right?</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Such a counter-argument was easily dismissed: "Arriving within a time obeying all speed limits would have us looking punctual. Rushing would make us appear desperate whilst costing more in fuel." Maybe the monetary argument would sway Toshiko into letting someone else drive for once? Looking up to see near miss after near miss... if she could find where Toshiko's keys were kept, she would have tried to bribe or blackmail her employer into taking proper lessons.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko was about to protest... but then she paused for a moment. To be honest, it was hard to argue with that logic. While speedy driving that the redheaded mage preferred was efficient, it did burn more fuel... and at the moment, Toshiko's funds were remarkably thin. That crystal ball had cost a lot for something that turned out to be a total dud... Therefore, doing something that would save them money would help a lot. But the concern about the possibility of being seen as not taking it seriously still worried her... however, desperation was another thing to consider... "You have a point there," she said, simply, "I'd like to avoid spending too much money right now... but I'm still worried about seeming like we're not taking this seriously."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "How would it seem that we're not taking it seriously if we arrive as soon as reasonably possible? Even police forces can take longer to respond to reports of theft," the heiress stated, glad that she'd found some chink in Toshiko's desire to drive there at hair-raising speeds. "If I drive, you can explain what the magical protections are that might have been bypassed. Being distracted in control of a high-speed vehicle could be costly in more ways than fuel."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko After a few moments of silence, Toshiko sighed. Yes, there was a lot of logic in that statement... and the mage's biggest concern, the money, weighed rather heavily on her mind. In the end, it was quite simply a fact that she could not deny. It would take less money to go more slowly, no matter how much she wanted to drive as quickly as she possibly could to get there. "Fine, Ryuuko-kun," relented the woman, at last, "I'll let you drive just this once."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Without even a second's delay, the purple-haired swordswoman held out one hand expectantly: "Keys." Toshiko had relented, so she wasn't going to wait on her to unlock everything. Aside from being demeaning, Ryuuko couldn't shake the feeling that the mage would change her mind once in the car and undo the brief effort. Besides, she did want some idea of the potentially bypassed protections instead of acting as a complete novice on arrival...</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko After a fair amount of hesitation, Toshiko finally handed over the keys. She had almost changed her mind in those few moments, but at last she handed over the keys. It was with great reluctance, after all.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Graciously taking the keys, Ryuuko lead the way outside and to the car... wondering once again how Toshiko had so few dents on its red paintwork with the way she drove. Thankfully, the saloon wasn't a sports model or brand new, since with her employer's driving there was even more a guarantee that she'd hit something unexpected... Once the car was open and the younger of the two seated firmly in the driver's seat, not forgetting the seatbelt, she waited for the detective to get in as well. Fortunately, she didn't need directions: the file had included the location of the crime and she'd made sure to learn the local area pretty well when she'd joined the agency. It would be no good to not know where any jobs the agency was hired for were going to happen.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "I don't think I need to tell you the directions since you know the area and you read the file," said Toshiko as she climbed in and belted herself into the front passenger seat. For a few moments, her eyes almost mournfully lingered on the keys, but she was quick to look away. "Besides, it's not as if it's really likely that you'll simply miss the Daidouji mansion." Really, it wasn't as if there was a wealth of old, stately, western-style mansions around the city. It was only natural that a building like the Daidouji mansion stood out rather clearly given its location. That being said, someone entirely unfamiliar with the area would probably have had some trouble getting to it. But that wasn't a concern today.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Silence reigned aside from the humming of the engine. For once in a blue moon, Toshiko's car was being driven with all due respect to the law--and not pushing its components to their absolute limit. It wouldn't be long before the tires needed replacing, as well as the brakes... let alone all the essential maintenance running a car nearly as old as either of them entailed before you decided to push it as much as possible. Ryuuko suspected magic was involved, though Toshiko didn't seem that knowledgeable about mechanics... After a few minutes, she started the conversation again: "What protections could mages use against theft? Onmyoudo is traditionally used for barriers and protection even without real magic. Though not in the sense of stopping thieves..."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Well, there's quite a few different options," Toshiko began, without a moment's pause. After all, defensive spells were something any self-respecting mage should have a good working knowledge of. "The most obvious of these is to use barriers that project a physical 'wall' that can block things from passing through it. Enough power can break something like this, but according to the file there was no sign of any sort of attack. So, it's rather unlikely that any barriers were damaged, if they were present. The same goes for field spells that would achieve a similar effect." Toshiko paused to take another drag on her cigarette, the window rolled down to let the smoke out as she exhaled. "There could also be field spells that cause a specific effect on those that enter them," she continued, "The most advanced of these are known as closed spaces, and are effectively a magically enclosed space that affords the one projecting it certain advantages. However, there doesn't seem to have been one in place here. Runes, however, are very likely to have been in place." Another pause for another drag on the cigarette. "Runes are basically a way of storing a spell, and then triggering it. They can be inscribed on paper or even carved into a surface, or written with chalk," she added, "Similar methods can be used to create circles that trap intruders or do any number of different things. There were probably wards in place, too, to detect if there was anyone who wasn't permitted to be on the premises." Toshiko paused for a moment. "Anything else?"</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Is there a range limitation to runes? Someone with the permission to be there and knowledge of the defences could take an unorthodox entrance like the roof and bypass the defences that way," Ryuuko wondered, doing her best to memorise the magical information whilst translating it into more mundane terminology. Barriers presented an analogy to walls and doors themselves, simply improved, and area wards had a similarity to biometric identification or even simply cameras. Runes of a limited range could represent even more focused cameras... or traps triggered around them, perhaps the patrols of guards. The heiress pulled away from the red light, considering where a flaw could be. The important thing was to work out if magic innately protected against unexpected methods of entry. The floor and ceiling when you had up to date plans of the building would be easily exploited if not covered for. Even a few good protections around the target with a mage able to break them were meaningless if the alarms were silenced and the outer defences skipped.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "A limitation on range largely depends on the spell being used with the rune," replied Toshiko, leaning back in her seat. "Though it's unlikely they would have much range outside of the room they've been placed in, if they're placed indoors." She considered this fact for a moment. From the roof... that wasn't an impossible proposal. However, it was reliant on the Daidouji family also failing to consider that possibility. And, well, if they were anything like what she expected, well... "It's not impossible they didn't mark everything," she began, "But the Daidouji probably considered that fact already. Still, it's worth checking out once we get there."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Do you think that they will have disabled the defences for us?" she asked, not wanting to contend with automated magical defences with the entirety of her magical ability coming down to 'make herself slightly tougher'. Where did you even start to go about neutralising these things with nothing more than a sword? But if the defences were down, then anyone with knowledge and access could take them apart and restore them... which made the prospect of an inside job seem all the more likely.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "... I would assume they will have," replied Toshiko, after a moment's pause. At least, she hoped so. She could never be certain how paranoid a client would be, to be entirely honest, and when it came to someone like the Daidouji family, well... there was no real question of how dangerous that sort of thing could be. But at the same time, they had hired them willingly. So it could be assumed they would rather not risk harming the people they'd asked to help. Besides, Toshiko would be... irritated if something like that occurred. The Daidouji mansion was a large, stately building. It was mostly dark wood, a vast western-style building as opposed to any eastern designs. The windows were thin and tall, and the mansion itself was a huge building. It was quite clear that the Daidouji family was very, very rich. And it rather quickly came into view, not much of a distance from Toshiko's detective agency. "We're here," Toshiko said, simply, pointing to the mansion.</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Oh, Miura-san!" Daidouji Yuuno nodded confidently that the introduction. Toshiko could surmise the girl had heard of the Miura family before, given they were another local mage family. Mage families were often aware of those with relatively high standings, and the Miura's rather unique situation perhaps posed for more awareness then was otherwise usual. "Right, right! You want to check out the scene of the theft, right?" The girl was rather chipper, for someone whose family had so recently suffered a serious threat. Perhaps she was just optimistic in the face of hardship? Or did she not really realize the gravity of the situation? Regardless of the explanation, Toshiko couldn't help but notice that the girl was rather cute. "It's pretty annoying, they didn't even set off the spells I set up!" complained Yuuno, pouting as she turned on her heel to lead them out of the room and towards the scene of the crime. "What were the spells you set up?" asked Toshiko as she followed along. "Ah? Oh, just a couple," Yuuno replied brightly, "My family's affinity is Destruction, so it was a set of runes that would atomize the bodypart closest to them and one that made their heart explode!" Toshiko nodded. Those spells were relatively complex, but for a competent student not impossible to handle for a stationary spell tied to a rune. Still, it was relatively impressive given the Daidouji girl's age. "You're quite accomplished for your age." "Thanks!"</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It was quite disturbing to hear words like that out of a younger girl's mouth, though not as much as it would have been for somebody unused to the more unsavoury sides of life. It was more the fervent cheerfulness with which she had declared creating such destructive spells: taking pleasure in slaughter was unseemly and the spells were unnecessarily deadly. Why would you, with magic, destroy instant death defences rather than incapacitation? It was wasteful to not know who was targeting you. Maybe this was why they had been stolen from: killing anyone that might have been able to let the Daidouji know what was going to happen. "Are the other defences of a similarly dangerous nature?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ah? Well... it depends!" replied Yuuno brightly, "I got to put spells that are pretty far in, for someone who's pretty nasty and might have hurt some of our maids getting there. It'd be dumb to put the spells that kill people out further, right?" Toshiko shrugged. It depended largely on what your goals were when it came to how lethal you made a trap. "My mother placed one of the earliest ones. It just makes you think you're in the wrong place and need to go to another place in the mansion," Yuuno continued as she lead the detective and her employee further down the hall. As they went, it was hard not to notice the number of maids keeping an eye on them rather closely, and many of them keeping an eye on the daughter of the Daidouji family as well. "The further they get, the more dangerous the spells are. I placed some of the last ones, because by that point they're probably going to have killed someone getting there. I don't know all those less flashy spells yet." The girl waved her hand rather dismissively. "You know, those 'less flashy spells' are pretty useful," Toshiko responded, her voice rather level. It was kind of obvious, by the girl's attitude, that she was infatuated with the more active and deadly side of magic. But wards and other less dangerous spells were quite useful. Fu Sonzai no Genso itself was surrounded by a field that made anyone without a usable supply of mana incapable of seeing or interacting with it. That was quite the opposite of flashy. "Setting up traps that don't kill can be pretty useful too." The girl shrugged. "It's not like I don't know that," replied Yuuno, "But if they've hurt some of our maids, they're unforgivable, aren't they?" The black-haired young girl paused for a moment. "Only... they didn't hurt anybody or trigger any of the defenses..."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko had to disagree with the assessment that you put more lethal traps deeper in simply because that was where they were likely to have harmed or killed someone with loyalty to your family. That seemed like the obvious place to put the nasty but not fatal defences. If you didn't teach your enemies that clandestine attempts to harm your family would be meet with extreme retribution, why would they ever stop trying? The information angle was still relevant if they penetrated so far, as well... The sound of that first defence and the lack of triggering raised an interesting possibility. There was no reason for anyone to interfere with the library defences... but if they hadn't meant to end up in the library in the first place... "Could the misdirection ward have sent someone to the library?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "... Hmm." Yuuno looked thoughtful for a few moments. Toshiko suspected she didn't know, but Ryuuko raised an interesting possibility. However, it relied on the ward having been triggered in the first place. "From what we've heard, Ryuuko-kun, it doesn't seem like any defenses were triggered, including those wards," Toshiko interjected. "However, if they somehow refreshed the activated ward... it's not like it's not impossible. But still, it's a possibility to keep in mind." Yuuno shrugged, and lead them further. And soon enough... "Here it is!" declared the girl. Ahead stretched a long hallway, seemingly empty and without windows. Hands in her pockets, Toshiko strode forward. Indeed, even with the spells inactive as they were, Toshiko could discern some of the more obvious defenses. It was easy to assume most of them were rather more thoroughly hidden. "... Incidentally," Toshiko began, turning to face Yuuno, "What's the outside of this hallway like?" "Oh? One of the walls is open to the outside, but it's reinforced and there's no windows. You'd need a lot of power to get through it, and it's not damaged at all!" "Hmm..." The redheaded mage looked around. Perhaps there was... something more complicated at work here... checking the walls seemed like a good start.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The defences weren't triggered, the exterior was an impenetrable wall... and to have triggered the library ward after activating the defences would have meant resetting them. Presumably, then, someone who could have pulled off hiding their tracks that well would have fixed the library barrier before even getting around to this one. Or was it an unrelated incident, or even something meant to throw them off their trail? "Which wall is the exterior?" the Yakuza heir questioned, stepping forwards into the corridor and looking for anything that seemed out of place in a more mundane manner. She might not have the skill to detect magical anomalies yet, but somewhere more damaged or disturbed than another point, or a region strangely free of dust if the place was regularly cleaned... she could look at that. Though with no trace at all, another possibility came to mind... "Might we be looking at a 'phantom thief'? Could someone have magic to pass through physical barriers undetected, or could ghosts do so?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Yuuno pointed, quickly, to the right hand side of the hallway when asked about the exterior. "It's not impossible that they could be using some strange method to bypass the security," Toshiko responded. There was a wide variety of spells for an enormous amount of magical affinities, all developed by magi all over the world for so many different purposes. Certainly, there could be some methods that would prove to be useful at bypassing these spells. But so perfectly, and all of them... certainly, something was amiss. "As for a ghost, it's possible, but a ghost would still be effected by the defenses. Toshiko followed Ryuuko, investigating the hallway. As Ryuuko looked over the walls, she might notice what looked like a scrap of paper attached to one...</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Are ghosts common enough that defences against them would be employed as a matter of course?" Ryuuko wondered, homing in on something out of place in the otherwise immaculate, but empty when compared with the rest of the house, corridor. Paper? No, more than paper--it was only a fragment but the hints of its original shape and the characters on one side were more than enough. "Master, it seems that the infiltrator is an onmyouji or styling themselves as one. "Unless your family would use ofuda in their defences, of course, Yuuno-san."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Mental defenses, at least, would affect a ghost capable of coherent thought," replied Toshiko, approached Ryuuko as her apprentice made a beeline for something on the wall. Ghosts were beings with human thought patterns, and as a result spells designed to effect those thought patterns would still effect them. Even if they didn't set off the more physical defenses, the ones targeting the mind would still be able to detect them. When Ryuuko discovered that scrap of paper, however... "You're certainly right, Ryuuko-kun," she commented, eyes travelling over the piece of paper. There was no denying what it appeared to be, it was definitely a piece of ofuda. That was only something that an onmyouji would use. Yuuno stared for a few moments. "Ehhh? There's... we never use ofuda!" the smallish girl exclaimed, "That's not how a proper magi does magic!" As Toshiko glanced down the wall, she noticed spots on the wall that seemed slightly... scuffed? As if something had been attached to them... "... Oi, Yuuno-chan," Toshiko said, turning towards the girl, "Is there any way that these spells could be disrupted without direct magical interference?" Yuuno paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "... I guess if the pattern was interrupted, but that's tied to the walls, and the walls are still there..."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Not how a proper magi does magic? Sometimes, the attitude of western-style magi to to onmyoudo irked Ryuuko: why did they insist on treating their own country's magical style as some secondary and inferior art. As far as she and her family were concerned, it was nothing more than one style, even if a heavily specialised one, that their affinities tended to work poorly with. But unlike alchemy, there was enough similarity with the magical mainstream that they should really approach it as something less exotic... That onmyoudo could interfere with defences like this was a prime example of why. "Might it be possible that a charm could match the defences from the outside and then insert it in place before temporarily disrupting them? Onmyoudo is almost a specialisation in the application of barriers."</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "It's not impossible..." Toshiko frowned as she looked down the wall. Unfortunately, not enough of the ofuda remained to determine what the spell may have been. Whatever the case was, it looked like quite a few of them had been deployed, up and down the wall... And all but this one had been completely removed. It was a shame, if some others had been left behind they may have been able to piece together exactly what spells were being utilized here. But at the moment, there was no way to be certain what was going on. "... Yuuno-chan, was there anything unusual in the library when your family found out that the barrier had been disrupted there, or do you not know?" Toshiko asked. Perhaps something that happened here had somehow caused the barrier to fail? "... There was some white dust? That's about it," Yuuno said, after some thought, with a shrug. "Since nothing was taken or changed there, we didn't look into it too much!" "Hmmm..." Toshiko turned to face the wall once more. Oddly enough, there seemed to be some... damaged plaster on one of the walls?</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "... I think we may have hit upon exactly what happened, though it's not what you think it is, Ryuuko-kun," said Toshiko, finally, turning away from the wall. Funnily enough, it was what the girl had said that had finally put two and two together in the redheaded mage's mind. If her guess was true, that also meant that this did narrow down who may have done this. At the very least, they knew what kind of abilities they were dealing with. "You're well aware that one of the affinities for magic is air, correct?" Taking the scrap of paper in her hand once more, she looked it over. "One of varieties of spells traditionally associated with air is known as displacement. It allows the caster to move an object without 'severing' it from its location. For example, you could cut a table in half with this spell, but upon restoring it the table would be one solid object once again. You could even transport limbs and other body parts and still have full control over them when you do so." Scanning the wall once more, eyeing the spot the paper had been taken from, she continued. "If I'm correct, they may have displaced this wall in segments to disrupt the defences, then replaced it when they were finished. See how they evenly spaced the ofuda?" Toshiko gestured to the evenly-spaced spots where it looked like something had been attached. There were marks of how the charms had burned away from their use, even. "But one of the walls went to the wrong place, breaking the library barrier and becoming lightly damaged in the process."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "So they moved the wall and used that to bypass or disrupt the defences," Ryuuko said, following the logic. Well, the logic that existed in something inherently magical that allowed connections to remain despite objects being in an entirely different area or cut into pieces, "But is this really enough of a clue for us to find out the one behind the theft?" By this point, Yuuno was pretty superfluous--except for keeping an eye on her to see if she reacted unusually to any of the mentioned terms. Toshiko had made it clear that anyone could be a suspect in a family like this, even if the methods employed would seem to rule them out...</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "It's enough to give us some clues on our perpetrators' methodology," replied Toshiko, looking back down the hall. It was fairly clear to her that they were dealing with someone who had done this before, knowing where to place the ofuda to avoid magical reprisal and still move the walls to a different location wasn't something an unskilled amateur would be capable of doing. Or, for that matter, a first-time thief. And indeed, it ruled out a member of the Daidouji family being responsible for bypassing the defense spells, at least. After all, the Daidouji didn't practice onmyodo. "Given the Daidouji's habits, we can determine that they weren't responsible for breaching the defenses, at least." It was at this point that Yuuno chimed in. "I don't understand it, but don't you want to see where the vase was?" she asked, walking ahead and looking back at the detective and her employee. "Ah, of course, Yuuno-chan," replied Tokyo. Really, the young Daidouji girl was quite cute. With that, she proceeded onward, and Toshiko followed. It wasn't much longer before they reached the room in which the vase was held. It was circular, with a pedestal in the center upon which a glass case sat. Right now, it was empty.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko So instead of being able to isolate some actual thief, they could just rule out a family member performing the actual theft. It helped that there was more to go on in terms of what clues might be around--paper where it shouldn't be or some measure of misplaced damage--but any actual indications as to who might have made off with the vase... The "how" answered itself when it came to escaping with what was doubtless a rather cumbersome item: take the exact same way of removing it that had been chosen with the wall. Or keep reapplying the same trick in reverse. Nevertheless, along with Toshiko, Ryuuko wished to see the scene of the crime rather than the approach to it. "Daidouji-san, was the case protected against being displaced in some manner? It seems unlikely to me that your defences were constructed to be defeated by a single skill."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Any attempt to touch the case would have made anything placed against it get atomized," responded Yuuno, swiftly. Her expression becoming a pout, she glared at the case. "I don't know how they got past that one, I made sure the spell was applied perfectly..." "Hmm..." Toshiko looked around the case carefully, eyeing it from every angle. It wasn't particularly small, the case's insides were more then large enough to accommodate the vase and... quite possibly something else. Judging from the size of the case, in fact, the vase was rather large itself. "How big is the vase, exactly?" she asked again. "Ah? It's taller then me!" replied Yuuno, quickly. Toshiko's attention returned to the case. A whole other person could fit in there... "... Is there any defenses inside the case?" Yuuno looked at the case again, and frowned, folding her arms. "I don't... think so..."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Your case is not fused with the flooring," Ryuuko stated, eyeing the vase's ultimate defence carefully. Having considered how their thief had bypassed all the other defences, here presented one avenue in that took even less work than moving the wall away: at least the wall was a single continuous structure, "Which leads me to assume that the thief could have removed the floor and worked their way beneath the vase. Or they could have displaced merely a part of their own body to be able to access and move the vase. Even without cancelling the defences on this case, they have displayed a potential ability to move the mansion's walls out of the way and I doubt that a clear container would be much impediment."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ehh? But beneath the floor is where mother's traps are," Yuuno protested, frowning, "They couldn't even get an arm down there, that's for sure. It triggers the moment it finds anything down there and melts them like acid." "Still," Toshiko replied, "Isn't there a chance that they could have displaced a limb in there? Or..." The redheaded mage narrowed her eyes. Hold it a moment, what was... Leaning in closely, Toshiko eyed the porcelain beneath the glass case. There was something curious there... It was a dark print. Too wide and thick to be a fingerprint... a toe-print? The blood, if that is what it was, was dried, and from the shape it seemed like a big toe on a small foot. And alongside it, a couple of blonde hairs... "... Someone was inside the case, with an injured foot," Toshiko concluded. Sadly this did not exactly help too much, but those blonde hairs... blonde hairs an an injured foot. Unless the culprit had fled quickly enough that at least narrowed down their potential suspects...</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Once again, Ryuuko found herself examining closely something that Toshiko had already noticed. In this case, the blood stain. If there was one, then surely there would be more or a sign of a cut? Then... if she followed their path backwards towards the door she would have to find some clue: anyone that had removed all the previous bloodstains would have solved the last one. Sure enough, back by the door, there was another print that they had missed, a too-wide print that indicated quite a small culprit. "I am going to trace this further back," the heiress stated, straightening from her position, "And head to the library if I lose the trail to examine it once again." And maybe she could ask for the maids to not clean up any bloodstains that they found.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "In that case, I'll question Yuuno-chan to see if she knows anything else," Toshiko said with a nod, watching Ryuuko walk away. Soon enough, she turned to face the young girl. Right, it was time to get to work and see if she knew anything else that might be helpful. Meanwhile, for Ryuuko, the trail of blood was not a long one... but it ended at a point that was easily overlooked, yet obvious if you really looked for it. It's likely they would have caught it on the trip back regardless. It was a strip of fabric, looking like it had been part of a sock, perhaps, judging by the texture and appearance. So the suspect(or one of the suspects) had taken off their shoes before making there way inside? And... somehow taken an injury to their foot... though it only took a moment to see what had caused it. A nail sat nearby, long enough to easily(and painfully) penetrate someone's foot, though not enough to go entirely through it. But why was there a nail sitting on the ground, exactly? There were a few maids a few meters away. Oddly enough, one of them was fiddling with a nail as she spoke to the others.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko coughed politely as she drew closer to the maids, the trail that she was following ending at a conspicuous nail. For one, it was just there on the floor rather than in anywhere befitting a nail. It was even more inexcusable when one considered the state of the rest of the mansion; a misplaced nail should have been removed or restored to its proper position in minutes rather than unintentionally injuring a thief. Deliberate, then? The maid holding a nail encouraged a view such as that. "I am Miura Ryuuko, here to investigate the recent theft. Could you please explain why it is that you are carrying a nail?" the girl asked, gesturing with one hand towards the bloodied nail for an indication of why she cared. Her other hand was careful not to stray far from the katana's handle: something about this family made the idea of rebellious servants seem quite likely.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Eh?" the maid looked away from her conversation partner and immediately her gaze zeroed in on the nail. "You found it! I was missing one!" Immediately she made to grab the nail, but paused for a moment, eyes on the bloodied tip. Her face became an expression of mild confusion at the sight of the clearly-bloody nail. What had happened, exactly? She didn't recall anything unusual... "I had meant to set them up last night, but I was missing one and-" Her shorter, brown-haired friend quickly struck her sharply on the back of the head, causing the former maid to yelp in surprise. "Do you really think you should just blab about that to anyone? Really now..." The maid sighed. "Let me explain. You're... Miura-san, right? One of the detectives? The maids under the employ of this branch of the Daidouji family have more skills then doing the chores." She paused for a moment, and took a deep breath, before gesturing towards the dark-haired maid. "But this blabbermouth idiot seems like she can't keep her mouth shut about it." "H-hey!" protested the first maid, frowning. "In any case, it's not as if you aren't here to help, so I feel safe telling you about it," continued the brunette maid, "Besides, I need help convincing this moron that there was a theft at all." "But there wasn't!" cried the black-haired maid, "Was there?" A chop was brought down on the maid's head once more, making her yelp. "Stupid. You were so concerned about your missing nail that you didn't even realize the vase was gone." Something seemed fishy about this. A nail belonging to the black-haired maid had injured one of the thieves... and yet, somehow, that maid didn't remember the theft.</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Hu hu hu!" the black-haired maid seemed to suddenly be filled with pride on the subject of her nails. Behind her, the brunette softly brought a palm to her face. "My trap nails aren't ordinary nails! Look!" Pressing the top of nail, the tip suddenly collapsed inward, twisting as it did until there was simply, seemingly, a small flat disc of metal. When placed on the ground, it would be rather difficult to see it at all, even if you were a seasoned thief. "When something stands on top of it, it extends all at once and drills a hole right into whatever touched it! But... I didn't set any up last night, I was going to but... something happened..." The girl trailed off, frowning to herself as she did. "... I don't really remember, maybe I was tired? Er..." "As you can see, she's just an idiot," said the brunette with a sigh. "I have no idea how she doesn't know what happened."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The swordsman could see where such a nail would be more likely to wound someone--particularly if it was slipped under a carpet or otherwise hidden. Unless an infiltrator was wearing oddly thick or reinforced footwear, then simply walking normally could cause crippling damage. Not that their thief had been particularly stymied by the apparent injury but the thought was there. Though... why? "Why would you own or set up something like this?" Plus the black haired girl still seemed unable to remember her own trap-setting, maybe... "And is there someone else that could have placed the nail?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "We're not just maids, you know!" declared the black-haired girl with an air of pride in her voice. "Daidouji-sama picked us out for more then just cooking and cleaning." "You can't do either of those things," the brunette interjected with another sigh. "H-hey!" "Anyway, this branch of the Daidouji family hired maids from a bit of an unusual source, I suppose," the brunette maid continued, folding her arms, "In Japan we're known as the Eighth House." It wasn't a name that would be unfamiliar to anyone involved in organized crime, supernatural or otherwise. The Eighth House was an international organization of assassins, who could also be employed as guards or any other profession that potentially required the abrupt and violent death of others. A guarantee that came with the Eighth Houses's assassins was quality. "The Daidouji are concerned other branches of their family may attack them," the smaller of the two maids continued, "So they take extra measures to ensure they aren't targeted." "As for the nails, I'm the only one who uses them!" declared the black-haired maid.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Why, why, would you seek to employ assassins as a large component of your domestic help? Whilst it might guarantee a defence against unexpected assailants, it was a glorious avenue for someone inserting their own assassin into your midst. Without simply having more money than anyone that might ever want you dead or some other means of earning loyalty from an amoral business, you were doomed in the long term. Wondering about this family branch's apparent desire to be eventually stabbed in the back aside, there was something strange about the black haired maid's insistence that it had to have been her because they were her nails and yet continuing to claim that she didn't remember setting them up. That left one thing to check: was she ill. The heiress stepped into the maid's reach, one hand placing itself on the girl's forehead.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "... Ah...?" The black-haired maid stared in blank confusion as Ryuuko touched her forehead, before her cheeks colored slightly and she was left speechless for a few moments. Her head was not abnormally hot. Indeed, she seemed to be perfectly healthy, only... with Ryuuko's hand pushing the bangs out of the way, a rune was visible, in what was seemingly black ink, scrawled under her hair. Without deeper knowledge of runes it would be hard to decipher, but it could easily explain the maid's forgetfulness.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "... Miss, you are coming with me to your employer," Ryuuko stated, hand sliding down to take the maid's wrist. It was unlikely that she would resist too much but her other hand didn't stray from the handle or her blade, just in case, "I believe that she might be able to explain your memory problems." Normally, the purple-haired girl would have turned around and gone to Toshiko instead but the redhead was conducting her own investigations. Moreover, there were still some questions that needed to be asked of Daidouji and they were closer to the library, if she recalled the way correctly. Maid in tow, Ryuuko continued on her initial path.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ehhhh? What's going on?" The black-haired maid stumbled along behind Ryuuko, confused. Why, exactly, was this happening? She really couldn't say that she understood. However, she didn't really resist. After all, there must have been some reason this was going on, right? And therefore it was time to follow the other girl, even if she didn't really understand what was happening. The library wasn't too far away. Within, Daidouji Tomoko was continuing to repair the damaged barrier spell, remaining where she was as she carefully restored it to full function.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "I have come to report on the progress of our investigation," the purple-haired girl said, "It appears that the thief made their way past the defences by displacing the walls. Moreover, one of their displacements failed in a manner that brought the wall into contact with the library. We have also found indications that the infiltrator was an onmyouji, blonde, and most likely barefoot." So far, Ryuuko had simply stated everything that their investigation of the vase's defences had yielded. "By tracing the bloodstains that our thief left, I came across this maid and her nails. She seems to have no recollection of having placed the nails but if you inspect her forehead..." the heiress continued, pushing the maid towards Tomoko.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Aoyama-san?" Tomoko asked, tilting her head slightly to the side as Ryuuko made her explanation, eyeing the maid. All of that made... far too much sense to her, and explained the white dust in the library if it had come from the wall, and just why the barrier had broken when the thieves had never actually entered the library. As for the maid, Tomoko was well aware of the maid's usage of trick nails for weaponry, traps and various other purposes. But if she didn't remember... Tomoko reached towards the awkwardly-shifting maid, brushing her bangs back. There was the black rune, seemingly written in ink. For a few moments she stared, then narrowed her eyes. "This rune is designed to suppress and eventually destroy specific memories," she commented, "Which means that the thief must have..." She paused for a moment, while the maid fretted over the fact that her mind had been messed with. "... But you said the thief was an onmyouji? Runecraft is a mage's work."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko paused, not having considered that. To her limited knowledge, the arts seemed more or less the same: you drew specific symbols, imbued them with mana, and that had some effect. But from Tomoko's answer, it seemed that there was more of a separation than she had assumed? In that case, perhaps here assumption that the same person was behind both was misinformed... had someone been trying to surreptitiously sabotage the theft? Or maybe they had been wrong and there wasn't an onmyouji at all? "Though the evidence found at the site was undoubtedly a fragment of ofuda, I cannot say for certain whether it was indeed a traditional design or whether some foreign rune was imprinted upon it," the purple-haired girl admitted, "Or it might be that a second magic user was at work here, though the thief's injury and your maid's lost memories hide whose side they were really on."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "There's no way of knowing..." Tomoko replied with a sigh, trailing off... before she looked at her maid's forehead again. "Unless we can break the spell. I'm afraid I can't help due to my role in reestablishing this barrier, but if I'm not mistaken you could destroy it, possibly, by overloading the rune with mana to break it." "Er... wh-what would you be doing to my head exactly?" asked the maid, nervously, taking a step back. It appeared that she really didn't like hearing that they would be shooting mana into her forehead. "It's not a complicated process," Tomoko responded. This seemed to do little to soothe her maid's concern.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "A rune has been placed on your forehead and I am going to remove it," the apprentice mage stated, not waiting for the maid's consent. For all she knew, the girl would be obliged to try and stop her because of whatever else the rune was doing. One hand blurred into position under black hair and the other got ready to stop anything that she might choose to do. Maybe a more experienced magic user could have done this with no mental preparation or elaborate symbolism. Ryuuko had no such shortcuts available and split the simple operation into two parts: first establish a link with the target. Her fingers formed the physical bridge and from there made a path for the mystical. Then visualise a void within the rune, drawing down mana through the link, consuming all until the fragile symbol would be unable to take any more and the gaping emptiness would devour it as well. The inefficiency of such an operation was clear; a spiky corona of darkness--coloured mana--engulfed her hand and the top of the girl's head, but she was sure that some of it was going into its destination and--hopefully--would remove the rune to continue their investigation.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko For a few moments, nothing seemed to happen... and then the maid shut her eyes tightly and clapped her hands on her head. "Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow headaaaaache..." she whined, trembling with effort to stay on her feet. However, once the process was complete, the rune itself seemed to have grown... hazy. Moments later, it flaked away entirely from the black-haired maid's skin... and she fell to her knees, wincing. Obviously, the experience of having something pulled out of her mind had caused some level of discomfort. Still, she didn't seem as if she was in actual danger... yet, and the rune had been removed.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Do you remember what happened last night? It seems that someone barefoot must have trod upon one of your nails," Ryuuko stated, not wanting to waste time waiting for the maid to get around to it herself. Her magic might have been successful for now but there was no guarantee that it would stay this way: she wanted to get the information out of the trap-laying black-haired girl and then let her go and try to recover from what had happened.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko For a few moments, the black-haired girl rubbed at her temples and winced, not finding the strength to do anything other then try and sooth the throbbing ache in her skull. However, as those moments passed, it seemed like the pain must have been lessening, and slowly she opened her eyes... and then they widened as memories came flooding to her. "Blonde hair! One was little and she had blonde hair!" she cried, waving her hands in the air, "She looked kind of like... like a doll! She was like... a little doll? Not literally but she looked really fragile! She only had socks on too and she stepped on my nail when she was coming in and then I jumped out to stop them! But then the bigger one, she had black hair, and she got really mad and hit me in the face!"</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko For a few moments, the black-haired girl rubbed at her temples and winced, not finding the strength to do anything other then try and sooth the throbbing ache in her skull. However, as those moments passed, it seemed like the pain must have been lessening, and slowly she opened her eyes... and then they widened as memories came flooding to her. "Blonde hair! One was little and she had blonde hair!" she cried, waving her hands in the air, "She looked kind of like... like a doll! She was like... a little doll? Not literally but she looked really fragile! She only had socks on too and she stepped on my nail when she was coming in and then I jumped out to stop them! But then the bigger one, she had black hair, and she got really mad and hit me in the face!"</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Do you have any more details?" she said. This was a small step forwards--there had been two thieves, one having left the bloodstain behind and presumably removed the stained sock (or used it as a bandage?), for certain. There was little useful new information, though. Their second intruder was able to hit you in the face and disable somehow, possibly through force or through the rune that she had just removed, "For instance, were they known to your group or your employers? Did they have other distinguishing features?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ummm.... I don't think we know them at all..." the maid looked thoughtful for a few moments, before glancing at Tomoko. The older woman shook her head, seeming just as surprised at the appearance of the two thieves as the maid was. Indeed, things seemed like they were really rather confusing in this circumstance, as far as the Daidouji household was concerned. There wasn't any recognition from either the family members or the maid. At least, not Tomoko and this specific maid. "Er... Oh, I think the blonde one had... blue eyes?" she said, "I can't remember what color the black-haired ones' eyes were... even though she hit me in the face..." The maid seemed rather sour about that last part.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It seemed that neither of the mansion's residents had any idea who the invaders could be--a pity, since Ryuuko had no more idea herself and pink eyes were more unusual than indicative of any further abilities. The most that could be achieved with this information was to possibly ask after anyone of a matching description fleeing the mansion the previous night. "I shall go inform Ando-shishou of further discoveries. It would be beneficial if you could search the mansion for anybody matching those descriptions, as the thieves may not have left yet," the purple-haired girl stated, bowing perfunctorily and walking back towards the entrance. Provided that she didn't get lost, it should be easy to find the vase-storing room and her teacher within short order.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko While the vase-storing room was easy enough to return to, it seemed as if something had perhaps gone amiss. Neither Toshiko nor the daughter of the Daidouji family remained there. Just where had they gone, and what were they doing?</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko As if tracing her steps once wasn't enough, both her employer and their current guide had gone elsewhere in the mansion without warning. With a sigh, Ryuuko began to look around the room once again, this time for any trace of runework--on the case, nearby it, or even on the walls and ceiling. Though with the Daidouji's own brand of magic being western, it wouldn't be out of place at all... and Yuuno wasn't around to explain whether that should be there or not. When she was done, if they hadn't already returned, the purple-haired girl rose up and turned to leave the room again. If she could find a maid, which shouldn't be hard at all, they ought to know where the hell the other two had gotten to... or anywhere that Yuuno might like to hang around, at least.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Eventually, the maid directed Ryuuko to the dining hall, where she had seen both Toshiko and Yuuno heading to. She hadn't disturbed them, as it was likely they were busy with something relating to the case. Regardless of just what it was, Toshiko had seemed in quite a hurry. Perhaps there had been some sort of revelation regarding the case? Either way, it was clear where they were. Upon arriving there, Ryuuko would see Toshiko and Yuuno seated beside one another. Toshiko seemed rather pleased with herself, so there must have been some kind of development.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It was definitely strange that the pair of them had relocated into the dining hall but, given that her own sources of information had stemmed from accosting an unfortunate maid in the hallways, Ryuuko wasn't one to judge. She announced her arrival into the room and bowed perfunctorily--it was somewhat annoying to have found no more information on further examination of the room. "Ando-san, Yuuno-chan, I have been able to learn more information about our thief. Firstly, calling them a thief is inaccurate, there were two partners in this crime. Secondly, we are dealing with both a western mage and an onmyouji."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ah, good work, Ryuuko-kun," said Toshiko, rising to her feet with a smile. Indeed, it was more then Toshiko had managed to find. Outside of those few clues that they had already discovered already, there hadn't been much of anything. But now... that was interesting. A western mage and an onmyouji? It was a shame to interrupt her little talk with Yuuno, who was now rather nervously shifting in her seat and looking back over her shoulder at Ryuuko, but this was important. "Both a Western Mage and an onmyouji, huh? That's interesting..." she trailed off for a few moments. "And one was blonde, too... do you know anything about the other? One was small and blonde... was the other taller and with black hair? Toshiko was having growing suspicions in regards to the nature of the theft.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "According to the maid, her partner matches that description, though she couldn't provide more details because of being knocked out right away," Ryuuko said. So these people were already known to Toshiko? It was hardly enough clues to construct a legal case but when you were dealing with magic that had never been an option in the first place. It seemed that their job might already be finished despite the relatively short time that had been spent here. She was a bit confused by Yuuno's reaction. Was her sword more prominent than it had been before or was her backup knife showing? The younger girl had seemed perfectly comfortable around her earlier in the day...</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "... Then I have a feeling I know exactly who was behind this," Toshiko replied, "Though I have no idea what end they might be seeking, this doesn't sound like their normal fair." After a moment's pause, where the redheaded mage thought over exactly how to reveal what she knew. "The thieves are, most likely, a pair of girls known as Kitty and Bunny," she said, finally, "They're typically known for stealing high-profile items using magic, then return them roughly a day later without any explanation. They're in it for the sport, in other words, rather then to keep whatever it is that they've taken. The mundane media regards them as phantoms, and to be honest so does quite a bit of our community as well. However, that doesn't mean we don't know what they look like. Kitty is a short, doll-like girl from Italy with blonde hair. Bunny is a taller Japanese girl with short black hair. Kitty is a mage, Bunny is an onmyouji." After a moment's pause, Toshiko continued. "I'm not certain it's them, but the more I hear about these details the more I suspect it's the case. Yuuno remained silent, giving an occasional nervous glare towards Ryuuko.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko From the sounds of it, the thieves would normally be returning the stolen item sometime tonight, which would make this whole theft nothing more than an elaborate test of the mansion's security and payment for doing absolutely nothing useful on their part. They could simply identify the perpetrators to Tomoko and be on their way. "What makes you think that this is any different from a normal theft? We can simply wait for tonight and for the return of the vase." "Have I done something, Yuuno-chan?" Ryuuko asked, smoothing her kimono in case it was something about her appearance, even though the girl didn't seem the type. Being looked at so harshly for no apparent reason was quite unnerving...</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Well... their thefts are normally high-profile, mundane items," Toshiko explained, adjusting her glasses as she did. "They take it long enough to generate a buzz and speculation, then return it just like that. They're not in it for anything more then the sport, the entertainment. They want to see people run about in a panic, only for the stolen item to be returned as if it had never disappeared in the first place. So a theft like this, for them, is very strange... strange enough that I'd suspect someone else if not for those descriptions. Something strange is going on." Meanwhile, Yuuno simply averted her eyes and let out a huff, blushing faintly. "I-I was talking with Toshiko-san, I don't like being interrupted!" she said, quickly. Toshiko simply smiled. "Of course you don't. In any case, the we can't count on the vase being returned."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "If they wouldn't normally do this, do you have any idea how to contact or trap them? My family has a lot of reach and we might be able to arrange buying it off them if we can supply a reason for knowing they have it... then just take it," Ryuuko suggested, treating the idea of robbing the thieves entirely too easily. She'd extort them without a second's thought, too. "Though I would rather deal with this without falling back on my connections." Yuuko's explanation, as shallow as it had been, was accepted without question: there were more important things to deal with right now than how angry a teenager was at someone walking into the room. She might be able to find out the real reason why later but the job took precedence.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "I don't think that will be necessary. Given the circumstances, the time since the item was stolen, and the size of the item, it's likely they haven't left the local area," Toshiko replied. Before she hadn't been so certain, but even the phantom thieves were unlikely to be able to take an object that large particularly far this quickly. And to be frank, she expected that they were being paid, or perhaps extorted, to steal this item. It was after all out of the realm of their usual operations. "It means our next move is to attempt to locate them. If I'm correct, it might be possible to scry their location." She paused for a moment. "Not by looking for the vase, but by using that scrap of ofuda."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Is my help required for this, or should I prepare for possible violence?" the apprentice asked, thinking back to the maid's statement about being... well, hit in the face. If they actually went out to recover the vase in person and one of the thieves was injured, it seemed quite likely that things would get out of hand.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Scrying is something any mage worth their salt should know how to do," replied Toshiko. Yuuno shuffled in her seat and grumbled to herself, giving Ryuuko another look for a few moments as the redheaded mage approached her apprentice. "It's only natural to introduce you to it when it's become relevant. You'll need to participate in the spell," continued Toshiko, producing the ofuda scrap again, "By using this scrap of ofuda, we'll be able to trace their location. This was pretty clumsy of them, when you think about it, leaving something like this behind." She paused for a moment. "More specifically, we'll be tracing Bunny's mana. There's still traces of it inside this piece of paper, which means that by using scrying we should be able to lock onto her. I can't imagine Kitty will be far away."</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "I don't think that will be necessary. Given the circumstances, the time since the item was stolen, and the size of the item, it's likely they haven't left the local area," Toshiko replied. Before she hadn't been so certain, but even the phantom thieves were unlikely to be able to take an object that large particularly far this quickly. And to be frank, she expected that they were being paid, or perhaps extorted, to steal this item. It was after all out of the realm of their usual operations. "It means our next move is to attempt to locate them. If I'm correct, it might be possible to scry their location." She paused for a moment. "Not by looking for the vase, but by using that scrap of ofuda."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Is my help required for this, or should I prepare for possible violence?" the apprentice asked, thinking back to the maid's statement about being... well, hit in the face. If they actually went out to recover the vase in person and one of the thieves was injured, it seemed quite likely that things would get out of hand.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Scrying is something any mage worth their salt should know how to do," replied Toshiko. Yuuno shuffled in her seat and grumbled to herself, giving Ryuuko another look for a few moments as the redheaded mage approached her apprentice. "It's only natural to introduce you to it when it's become relevant. You'll need to participate in the spell," continued Toshiko, producing the ofuda scrap again, "By using this scrap of ofuda, we'll be able to trace their location. This was pretty clumsy of them, when you think about it, leaving something like this behind." She paused for a moment. "More specifically, we'll be tracing Bunny's mana. There's still traces of it inside this piece of paper, which means that by using scrying we should be able to lock onto her. I can't imagine Kitty will be far away."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The apprentice studied the scrap, then took Toshiko's recently vacated seat, one arm propped up to support her head. "So because your affinity colours your mana when it's used, it can be linked back to you. How, though? Most scrying in western traditions seems to use water or mirrors... something that can hold an image." Maybe a magic circle of some sort? Was scrying the sort of thing that could be improved by having multiple people working on it? Not that they seemed to be a trio with particularly useful affinities for this sort of thing, with all of them tending towards spells that would be better at causing damage than actually finding something out...</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Yuuno-chan, you might want to go and tell the maids there's going to be a bit of a mess to clean up shortly," said Toshiko, giving a glance towards the girl. After a moment's hesitation, and a huff, the girl hopped to her feet and left the room, leaving the redheaded mage and her pupil alone. This was mostly an exercise in trying to teach her student a basic skill of many magi. Scrying was, of course, a skill possessed by almost every mage. Rummaging through her bag, Toshiko produced some chalk and what appeared to be a small, portable blackboard. "This is a skill any mage should possess," she began, as she turned to face Ryuuko, "Most accomplished magi can scry, and I'm certain you don't want to be left out." Toshiko pulled out a sheet of paper. On it was a magic circle, intricately designed and featuring a variety of different symbols. "I need to to replicate this on the board. If you're struggling I can help. After you've done so, I'll begin to help you perform a successful scrying spell. It's not a complicated process, but if you get something wrong you're going to end up with a waste of mana and nothing more."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko took a look at the complicated design, then the sheet of paper and pursed her mouth in thought. It was complicated, certainly, but some of the skills her family had pushed her to work more on made sense in light of her need for magical as well as mundane education. Calligraphy, for instance, not only served to indicate her refinement but to make the replication of a design like this simply an extension of abilities she already had. Not that she was entirely happy about having to do it with something like chalk. Soon enough, the sound of chalk clicking against the blackboard replaced the opulent quiet of the dining room, the humble sound of the circle's faithful replication being almost entirely out of place in such lavish surroundings. Pouring molten gold into marble etchings would really have been a better flavour for this house.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko watched her pupil carefully. Indeed, this seemed like a case of Ryuuko's skills perfectly playing into the task at hand. Replicating a magic circle was really not far outside of calligraphy. As a result it wasn't too long until they had a full circle. "Now, Ryuuko-san," Toshiko began, "Our first order of business is to place the scrap of ofuda in the center of this circle. The scrying circle will be able to take the information it needs from it in order to locate our target, but you'll need to provide the activation mana." There was no vocal component to this spell, as the circle did most of the invocation work itself.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko All she had to do was feed mana to the circle? Hopefully, Toshiko would get around to some explanation of the design at a later point; knowing how to use a spell but having no idea what it was--or how to tell it apart from something of similar operation but vastly more danger--seemed to be a rather big risk to take. So, place the ofuda in the circle--a quick flick of her wrist was enough to pull the shred of paper from Toshiko's fingers and allow it to float into position--and then feed mana to it. Repeat the same visualisation exercise from earlier, her fingers forming a bridge for mana to be sucked down into the circle. The circle that, in its own way, knew more about what was going on than the apprentice herself did... Hopefully, this worked in a manner she could make sense of the results.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Admittedly, we're relying on some assumptions here, that they haven't somehow placed defenses to block scrying. But if they're attempting to avoid too much attention..." The chalk was suddenly filled with a silvery light, travelling slowly along each line. Eventually, the entire chalk outline was glowing silver, and the symbol seemed to be pulled inward from the center, each layer of the circle descending further then the previous. Finally, at the bottom, the center circle grew translucent... and was abruptly filled with greyness. "It's attempting to pinpoint their location," Toshiko explained, helpfully. "Any moment now... and..." The grey was quickly proven to be a cloud layer, as their viewpoint rapidly rushed through it. It gave an unnerving sensation of falling when directly looked at. Below was what was an obvious aerial view of the city, becoming larger and larger as the scene rushed up to greet them. Suddenly, their viewpoint halted, and jerked to the left sharply, before giving the both of them a view of what appeared to be a somewhat dilapidated apartment building. It was in a rather more run down area of the city, buildings that were due for, but had not yet been, demolished. The viewpoint sank lower, sinking through the roof... "When is our client going to be here already?!" one voice, squeaky and high-pitched, whined. The Japanese was fluent and there was no hint of an accent, but it belonged to a short blonde girl. She was resting on what was a remarkably preserved couch, one foot bare, elevated, and bandaged. "Waiting this long in a crappy place like this is just ridiculous. We can't even get any good wards set up here! Jeez!" "They said they might not be able to come very fast," responded the other girl, taller and with black hair, "So just try and relax. You should be glad this room has a nice couch." "Hmph, relax... my foot still hurts..." the short blonde continued to complain, "Stupid maid..." The taller black-haired girl paused for a moment. "... Do you feel like you're being watched?" she asked, looking about. The blonde sighed. "What, do you think there's ghosts now or something?!" "No, I-" It was about then that the scrying spell reached its limit, fading away into regular chalk once more.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Confirming the identity of their culprits was nice, though Ryuuko wasn't paying too much attention to them (or even the successful spell, though it was nice to succeed) instead focusing on their surroundings. The scrying hadn't given an aerial view for long but she was confident that it was enough... she'd seen enough maps of Kawa. It helped to keep up to date on where her family was doing business and one of their more legal ventures was specifically in buying up and replacing dilapidated property. Not that everything that happened in the meantime was legal. "Ando-san, I know where this building is. It's certainly in the New Development district." the purple-haired girl stated, referring to a place that had been 'new'... after the war, though the name was going to be accurate again. Not the exact street address but finding a large apartment wouldn't be difficult at all--if their quarry was even in the same building when they got there, "Will you need directions?" For once, Toshiko's horrifying driving would work in their favour.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "No, I think I know where this is, too." Toshiko quickly informed the family of what they were doing, and hurried out of the mansion. There was no time to lose, the longer they took, the more of a chance there would be that the client who had hired the thieves might show up, and that would mean there would be much less of a chance of recovering the vase. The trip to the New Development district was... intense. Toshiko's remarkable ability not to get pulled over for dangerous driving was absolutely a factor in their safe arrival, as was the fact that many other drivers were terrified to be near the vehicle that could quite possibly kill someone at any moment. And yet, the made it their casualty-free. The building was tall and decrepit. An apartment, most likely, that had never had any real inhabitants. Though someone had lived their at some point, if the couch was any indication. Toshiko swiftly pulled her car up, and moments later got out. From what she could detect, there was nothing out of the ordinary. However, this was a conflict between those people who could use the existence known as magic. Caution could not be forgotten. Toshiko placed one hand in her pocket as she approached the front door. The chains keeping it shut had been broken. "Ryuuko-san, stay back until I've checked the entrance," Toshiko began, as she approached the doorway, "There's no guarantees that it's not tra-" Suddenly a series of symbols lit up around the doorway! Toshiko barely had time to tug something from her pocket before there was a high-pitched whine and- The doorway exploded, and flames immediately engulfed Toshiko. Her form vanished in fire and sound, entirely obscured from view for a few scant moments... even after the fires cleared, smoke and dust rendered what had happened completely invisible for a moment... Until a reddish glow became visible as the smoke cleared. Toshiko stood, one arm covering her mouth, the other holding up a burning piece of paper. A rune was scrawled on the charm, and soon enough it burned away. With it, the red-tinted cage of light that had formed around the redheaded mage flickered out of existence. "Damn it, it was longer range then I thought!" she snapped, craning her neck to look back at her student. "Ryuuko-san, there's no time for us to take it slow any longer, they must know we're here! Follow me!"</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ah, sorry, sorry," Toshiko said, waving her hand, "It doesn't really make sense not to let you go forward, now, does it?" Still, Toshiko kept a close watch on her student as they hurried inside. So far, it seemed as if the response wasn't immediate, which likely meant there was more traps. The lobby was decrepit, and with no power there was no way the elevators would work. That meant heading for the stairs! Once they reached the stairs, it was easy enough to look up and see the strange spiraling structure as it went upwards. It was an unusual design for an apartment building, to see the stairs at the center of the building spiral upwards. Perhaps that was one of the reasons that the apartment now laid abandoned. The moment they stepped onto the stairway, there was a rush of wind from above, and a greenish blur seemed to rush down the center of the stairway! Frantically, Toshiko swiftly drew one of her shield runes as swiftly as she could, just in time for the shield that blazed to life to block a sudden blow from a black-haired girl. However, the force of the punch was not fully deflected, and Toshiko found herself rocketing backwards into the lobby, skidding along the ground on her feet before catching herself barely, the rune burning away. "Bunny, huh?" Toshiko commented, as the onmyouji used several ofuda to propel herself a little further before landing in the lobby herself. "Displacement and air onmyodo seems like it perfectly suits you, after that stunt." "I don't know who you are, but I'm not going to let you interefere," commented the thief, simply, raising her fists. Before Ryuuko could attempt to join the fight, however, there was a humming sound ahead of her. An unseen ofuda lit up, and directly ahead of her appeared the second figure that had been seen during the scrying spell. Her blonde twintails bobbed as she huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "Hmph! So you're the intruders?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. Her feet were bare, and one bandaged. "I'm not going to let you gang up on Bunny! Your opponent is me!"</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The lack of traps on the way to the stairwell was more unnerving than another explosion would be: it could mean too many things. Maybe they were too late and the first trap had just been to dissuade them, or maybe they'd already missed it and the whole building was about to come crumbling down around them. The less expected outcome was for one of the thieves to drop down the stairwell--something even a swift cut wasn't able to react to in time--and force space between Ryuuko and Toshiko. It was still two on one, though--until the injured girl showed up. What was she even thinking? After the nail, there was no way that she was going to be able to keep up if Ryuuko got in close. In an area like this, the one that couldn't move was going to lose before the attack was even made. "One theft gone wrong and so many thieves will turn to violence to clear up after themselves," the purple haired girl mused, meeting the blonde's eyes with her own sharp gaze, then darting forwards without further warning. Though the girl herself was a threat, it was the area around them that was taking more of her attention: someone had rigged the entry to explode and someone had sealed the maid's memories with a rune, and it wasn't the onmyouji. There could still be any number of traps.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Hmph," the twintailed girl let out a huff, "It's only when people like you try to interfere. Why are you even here?" She didn't take a step as Ryuuko suddenly rushed forward, seemingly not intending to do anything herself at all. At least, until a yellow-red light suddenly blazed to life on the wall just ahead of the mage's apprentice. In less then a second's time, it erupted outward with a blast of noise and heat, a small explosion ripping its way right into Ryuuko's path! The rush of air hit Toshiko before the blow did, and that was the only thing that let her draw another shield rune to deflect it. Down three already?! The sheer force of the blow sent her skidding backwards once more, towards the exit. "No wonder you took out a trained assassin so easily," Toshiko commented, tossing aside the burning rune as it dissipated into ashes. "Air synergizes well with hand to hand combat." "Flattery's not going to get you anywhere," replied the onmyouji, squaring herself up for another attack, "You're working for the victims of the theft, that's easy enough to assume. So I won't let you get any further." Suddenly Bunny rocketed towards her once more. This time, however, Toshiko was a little quicker on the draw, dodging. The air rushed past her as Bunny's fist smashed through plaster and concrete, debris scattering into the air from the impact. It was clear she was using ofuda on her body to boost her physical abilities, to say the least. And as Toshiko moved behind her, even as Bunny swiftly began to turn... Ofuda on her shoes as well?</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko When the explosion came roaring out, Ryuuko reacted the same way that she had planned for traps: try and pump mana into it and overload the spell, and failing that hope that her outstretched hand would divert the magic so that the damage would go off to one side and leave her unharmed. Unfortunately, this wasn't a trap and didn't work the same way the maid's runes had and the attempt could at best be described as 'barely successful'. Instead of being significantly disrupted, the explosion was merely weakened slightly and drawn towards her arm--leaving light but noticeable burns and down one sleeve. Her hand got the worst of it but, though the heiress' grip didn't slack. Pain was too little reason to let herself be weaker. "You're lucky that wasn't worse. My father would never let you go if I were to die to some common criminal," she said, annoyed at being even further back than her initial position. She would have to take this with more seriousness, even though the idea of striking with full force at a seemingly defenceless girl was nauseating. This time, when she darted forwards, it was with magic reinforcing her base abilities and moving faster than any human had good reason to be. In a race between Ryuuko and Kitty's reactions, she planned to delay the blonde by working out what she was doing. Step one: cut the previous explosion's origin mid-dash. If that forced her to do something else, she just had to outlast the mage.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Cutting the wall didn't appear to do anything of note. Instead, directly ahead of Ryuuko, a series of explosions erupted outward across the stairs, forming a fiery barrier of sound and force right in the path of the kimono-clad girl. Kitty had taken a step back further up the stairs, folding her arms firmly across her chest. "You're a complete idiot, thinking you can just rush me like that!" Kitty declared, a hint of pride entering the small girl's voice, "As long as I can touch the walls and floor, there's no way you'll make it to me!" Bunny's fist tore towards Toshiko once more. The mage could feel the air pressure, the blast rushing past her as she just barely managed to dodge. As it stood, this type of combat put her at something of a disadvantage. Quite simply, she needed to slow the onmyouji down in order to be able to generate distance better. It seemed as if ofuda attached to the bottom of her shoes were what was making her difficult to counter, making her so fast she was hard to do anything to defend against her... Toshiko packpedaled dragging one foot back along the floor as she adjusted her position and swung it back, and Bunny swifly lowered herself, ready to put on another air blast for speed. And just as she began to move...! "Ignite!" Toshiko cried. A simple fire spell never the less ignited along the same path as she moved her body, as Bunny moved forward. The onmyouji attempted to stop herself, but the air blast carried her forward... and the ofuda on one of her feet ignited. "Ah?!" She stomped her foot frantically, now through the fire, but it was too late. One of her ofuda had burned into an unusuable state.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It was true: so long as Kitty was in contact with some surface through which she could transmit the magic or however she was doing this, there was nothing that Ryuuko's highly limited skillset could do to counter the explosions. What she did have was an assuredly better reaction time and enough observational ability to recognise that if the explosions were being set off to specifically block her, rather than just firing off with far more risk of danger, then Kitty had to be watching her movements. An observation that would be blocked for just enough time after a previous explosion to get in close. That was Ryuuko's hope, otherwise this could go far more wrong than anticipated. The purple-haired apprentice took up her stance again and moved forwards nearly silently in comparison to the sounds of Toshiko and Bunny's fight or the explosions themselves. She took the inevitable explosion gracefully, reinforcing primarily her legs to land and recover--then dashed forwards as soon and fast as able, despite the head and risk of burns. If she could get through then her blade would find a nice spot on the blonde's neck... And it would be over.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Hmph, you should just pack up and leave!" Kitty declared, triumphantly, assuming that the explosion had blocked her opponent's progress. "Don't you get it? As long as some part of my body touches any surface of this building, I can set off an explosion! I've placed a network of explosive sigils on every single surface, event the ceiling! All it takes is-eh?!" She was not, however, prepared for Ryuuko's landing, nor the sudden dash towards her. Damn it, she was so close...! "La Re-" Before she could attempt to cast a spell, however, she felt a blade at her throat. As Bunny spun to continue her attack, she caught sight of her partner as well and immediately stopped. "Kitty?!" Toshiko came to a halt. "Good work, Ryuuko-san," she said, craning her neck to look back at her student and employee, before her focus returned to the onmyouji. "Now, I'm certain your partner won't come to any harm, but it'd be better for everyone if you would guarantee that by surrendering." Bunny clenched her fists.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Don't make the mistake of assuming that I won't cut you down if I have to. I am Miura-sama's sole heir and he made certain of my ability to finish an enemy before I was left to live away from constant bodyguards," Ryuuko stated helpfully, moving the blade closer for a second so that Kitty could feel the cold steel, "I doubt your magic is enough to break this blade in any timespan to escape alive." It was of course her employer's prerogative to begin any interrogation over the location of the stolen vase--or who might be behind the pair's unusual choice of theft. Once Kitty accepted her defeat, of course.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "..." Kitty's shoulders sagged with defeat. "... You jerk," she spat, a remarkably tame insult spoken in the most biting way possible, as she simply stood there and waited for Ryuuko to stop threatening to cut her head off in the wake of her surrender. Bunny, too, slumped and let out a sigh. "... Just... let her go and we'll talk, okay?" the black-haired onmyouji began, "Please don't hurt her." Toshiko folded her arms. It seemed as if Ryuuko's tactics had worked out, certainly... and perhaps that the two girls weren't entirely committed to this theft. There were several ways Toshiko could see displacement being utilized in this scenario, and yet the thieves had decided to cut their losses and surrender rather then keep fighting.</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Hmph, you should just pack up and leave!" Kitty declared, triumphantly, assuming that the explosion had blocked her opponent's progress. "Don't you get it? As long as some part of my body touches any surface of this building, I can set off an explosion! I've placed a network of explosive sigils on every single surface, event the ceiling! All it takes is-eh?!" She was not, however, prepared for Ryuuko's landing, nor the sudden dash towards her. Damn it, she was so close...! "La Re-" Before she could attempt to cast a spell, however, she felt a blade at her throat. As Bunny spun to continue her attack, she caught sight of her partner as well and immediately stopped. "Kitty?!" Toshiko came to a halt. "Good work, Ryuuko-san," she said, craning her neck to look back at her student and employee, before her focus returned to the onmyouji. "Now, I'm certain your partner won't come to any harm, but it'd be better for everyone if you would guarantee that by surrendering." Bunny clenched her fists.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Don't make the mistake of assuming that I won't cut you down if I have to. I am Miura-sama's sole heir and he made certain of my ability to finish an enemy before I was left to live away from constant bodyguards," Ryuuko stated helpfully, moving the blade closer for a second so that Kitty could feel the cold steel, "I doubt your magic is enough to break this blade in any timespan to escape alive." It was of course her employer's prerogative to begin any interrogation over the location of the stolen vase--or who might be behind the pair's unusual choice of theft. Once Kitty accepted her defeat, of course.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "..." Kitty's shoulders sagged with defeat. "... You jerk," she spat, a remarkably tame insult spoken in the most biting way possible, as she simply stood there and waited for Ryuuko to stop threatening to cut her head off in the wake of her surrender. Bunny, too, slumped and let out a sigh. "... Just... let her go and we'll talk, okay?" the black-haired onmyouji began, "Please don't hurt her." Toshiko folded her arms. It seemed as if Ryuuko's tactics had worked out, certainly... and perhaps that the two girls weren't entirely committed to this theft. There were several ways Toshiko could see displacement being utilized in this scenario, and yet the thieves had decided to cut their losses and surrender rather then keep fighting.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko In one fluid movement, the sword was retracted and once again sheathed, albeit with a sigh. There was something plainly disappointing about a battle without the slightest bit of bloodshed, with only the light singes on her arm showing what had happened. All of that build-up and potential without any satisfying release of the tension. Hopefully, this whole investigation could be over soon so she could find something to practice on. "You know what we want to know."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Out of the two thieves, it was Bunny that spoke first. "We were paid," she said, simply, "And it was enough that we couldn't ignore it. Even though we're thieves, we can't exactly just run off with that much money without doing what we received it for, can we?" Grumbling, Kitty averted her eyes with her arms folded, making her feelings on the matter known before she even spoke. "I thought we could." "Who is paying you?" Toshiko asked. That explained why it was such an unusual theft the pair of girls. It wasn't something they had wanted to steal for the spectacle of it, it was something they had stolen because they wanted to be paid, and it was an amount of money that neither of them could simply ignore. "You must have some kind of name." "He was an older man," Kitty spoke up this time, with a huff, "Kind of a creep, I'm pretty sure he was a Daidouji himself, too. He knew an awful lot about the layout of that mansion. Like he'd lived there or something."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Could you draw a picture of some sort? Did he have any distinguishing features?" the apprentice asked, wanting to do a thorough job... even though she wasn't sure that recovering a piece of stolen property and identifying the real hand behind the thefts extended to 'hunt down the mastermind and exact the appropriate punishment'. Unless they'd already gone ahead and delivered the vase. That would make retrieving it considerably more awkward... a mage and a mage-in-training trying to recover a magic-draining urn from somebody that had an active interest in it?</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "A picture?" Kitty asked, "Well, I guess I could try, but..." Bunny almost immediately picked up the slack when Kitty trailed off. "She's a terrible artist, so don't bother." "H-hey!" Kitty protested, stepping forward and pointing her finger at her partner, "That's not it at all! It's just because he's going to be here in about a half an hour! If they wait, they'll meet him anyway!" Well that was certainly some interesting and fortuitous information. "So, that means the vase is still here, then?" Toshiko asked. Bunny nodded. "It is, we were waiting for him to arrive," she explained.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "If the vase is still here, then it would be prudent to take us to it. We must insure that it is secured; to leave it in a state where your employer might be able to leave with or activate it would endanger all of us," Ryuuko surmised, resting her chin on one hand. It was true that they were all unfamiliar with the inner workings of the urn. This would make securing it more difficult; they didn't know how to use it themselves. Yet to do nothing with a magic-ripping artefact around and only her combat skills being entirely capable of functioning without the supernatural was just risky.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "I guess I'll take you to it..." Kitty complained with a sigh, before turning to look at her partner. "Bunny, carry me." "Carry you?" Bunny commented with a raised eyebrow, "You can walk on that foot, can't you? I thought-" "Carry me! It's your fault in the first place!" Kitty declared loudly, waving her arms in the air angrily, "Besides, you seem to want to get embarrassingly close every other time..." The small blonde blushed as she looked away. With a sigh, Bunny headed back up to the other girl and picked her up, proceeding up the stairs at a relatively slow pace. Eventually, all four of them reached the thief pair's room. It was exactly as Ryuuko had seen in the scrying spell, quite a mess and with a semi-intact couch. Bunny sat Kitty down carefully on the couch, and the blonde pointed. "There it is," she said, simply. Toshiko's gaze followed her arm. Indeed, there it was. The vase was tall and pitch black, looking all the world like some kind of hole in the air. It didn't even shine from the light filtering in the window. Just looking at it gave a sort of unnatural sensation. "Interesting... it's definitely an abominable thing," Toshiko commented, raising an eyebrow.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko, displaying a surprising degree of boldness, walked over to the vase. It was strange to imagine that something like this could be dangerous, though it looked wrong. Oh, she had seen pictures of a similar material made by far more mundane means. It didn't have the strange presence of a magic-ripping vase, even if it was deactivated. Not that the presence was going to stop her from sticking her hand inside to check that there was an inside; the opening could have been a flat top from the lack of shadows. "Could we simply put runes or ofuda inside the vase to disable him when he arrives?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Thankfully, the vase was inactive. Nothing happened when Ryuuko placed her hand inside of it. "I don't think that anything placed inside would be effective, without destroying the vase," Toshiko said, approaching to look the magical object over. "Or hoping he stuck his hand inside of it, I suppose." Admittedly, she wouldn't exactly have mourned the vase's destruction, if not for the fact that the Daidouji appeared to want it retrieved, and not obliterated. She wasn't exactly keen on the existence of an object that could perform such a thorough draining of mana. To put it simply, the existence of such an object was discomforting to Ando Toshiko. "He might notice the damaged doorway, as well," she added, giving a glance at Kitty, who let out a huff and looked away. "I think it's possible to trap him rather easily, however." Toshiko looked around the building. "There's plenty of places to put traps," she continued, "And I'm assuming that Kitty-san's explosive sigils are still set around the apartment." "... Can we keep the money he would have given us?" asked Kitty, folding her arms, "This was a stupid waste of time otherwise, and I got stabbed in the foot for nothing if we don't get to keep it." "... I have to agree with Kitty," Bunny added, "She was hurt because of this job."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "The money belongs neither to us or our employer. As far as I'm concerned, if you can keep it then do so," Ryuuko stated, not seeing any particular reason to take the money off the thieves simply to give it back to those behind the theft in the first place. It was apparent that the Daidouji's wealth was distributed around the family anyway and, consequently, taking the payment wouldn't leave their current employer any worse off. Nor did they owe it to the family to do so. On the subject of trapping, she had little to say. It wasn't her speciality to plan such things or set up magical traps of some sort: lying in wait and ambushing was more in the vein of the girl's skills.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "It's not as if I care about where his money goes," Toshiko commented, "You can have it." "Great!" declared Bunny, pumping one fist in the air. Her level of enthusiasm had gone up rather sharply at that news, and she turned to face her partner with a smile. Kitty was smiling, too, if only for a moment. "He'll be here soon, though," continued Bunny, turning to face the detective and her apprentice. "So if you want to have Kitty-chan help you set up traps, we'll have to work fast." Toshiko nodded, before turning to face Ryuuko. A basic plan had formed in her head, now. Ryuuko was more suited for a rapid, close-range attack, something that couldn't be avoided in a room like this. And so, if the Daidouji man managed to bypass any traps and reach this room... he'd be ambushed by Bunny and Ryuuko. "Kitty-san, come with me," Toshiko began. Immediately, Kitty frowned. "Why do you get to make the orders?" she complained. Toshiko simply continued without pausing. "Ryuuko-san, you'll stay here with Bunny-san. Ambush him if he comes through that door." Bunny nodded. "It's alright, Kitty-chan, just go with her and help her set up the traps. We'll be rid of this guy, this vase, and we'll have a lot of money." Kitty huffed, but eventually relented. Toshiko helped her out of the room and down the stairs. The culprit's arrival could be moments away.</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Bunny cracked her knuckles, hopping from one foot to another. Ofuda were drawn out of her pockets and attached to her shoes, a few more attached to her arms as well as she stretched, and rolled her neck. Finally, she took up a fighting stance opposite the kimono-clad, katana-wielding girl, bracing herself in case anyone opened the door. There weren't many words to be said, at this point. Downstairs, Toshiko and Kitty were swiftly organizing as many traps as the could as quickly as they could. Most of these were situated around the ruined doorway, which would ideally still manage to catch him off-guard. After all, there wasn't exactly any other place to enter even if it looked like the building had been hit with an explosive. When a car pulled up outside, the small girl and the woman quickly hid themselves, just out of sight. It was difficult to see the figure that entered through the doorway, but almost immediately the automatic sigils around the door blazed red before igniting in a furious explosion, tearing it to pieces. After the blast, Toshiko could see just what had happened. Paper-like fragments, smouldering, fell to the ground before dissipating into mana. Familiars? That's what seemed likely to her. So the Daidouji man was suspicious already... well, that was hardly the end of it. Almost immediately, several dozen other figures, all paper-like creatures as well, rushed the entrance with no hesitation. Yes, indeed, it was clear that their enemy had sent ahead one familiar to activate any traps, before sending ahead the others to swarm the building in overwhelming numbers and kill everyone inside. Kittty stepped out of her hiding place, grinning, and winked. "Bye bye!" she declared, to the onrushing swarm of paper men, before snapping her fingers. The entire floor blazed red, and a column of fire erupted beneath the familiars, tearing each of them asunder. "Haaah, I guess I should give you credit, Ando-san," she said, watching the smouldering bits of paper descend to the ground before scattering into mana, "Predicting he'd try to flood us with familiars was a pretty good guess, especially since it let me blow them up!" As the smoke cleared, however... there was no-one in sight. Just an empty car. "... I have a feeling it wasn't enough." --- The moment the first familiar had been dispatched, he'd already made his move. The floating disc was a useful item, a magical tool that allowed him to quickly ascend. to the room he desired. His magic allowed him to silently eat a hole through the wall. Bunny released only when a hand was pointed at the back of her head that something was wrong. "Attempting to set an ambush for me?" said the voice. It was deep, and by looks the man was older, in his fifties or sixties, with dark hair. "If you surrender, I'll only destroy one of your limbs each. Your compatriots have already been overwhelmed by my-" It was at that moment that the second trap was triggered, an enormous explosion rocking the building. "What?!" he cried, eyes wide. In this moment of distraction, a furious Bunny grasped him by his arm and pitched him forward, hurling him over her shoulder and across the room.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The sound of flames downstairs was the signal to shift the grip on her blade, anticipating that the target would be coming through any moment now. Then he did--just not through the door, and not in a situation that she could have struck at him. Even with all the speed in the world, the most likely outcome would have been to cut Bunny's head off first; the situation wasn't desperate enough to start sacrificing allies in the name of victory. Bunny's brains were safely not blasted across the room by an unexpected explosion, the roar of which briefly made the yakuza wonder how on Earth they'd managed to get her mother to show up here--drunk. Reality asserted itself as the Daidouji went flying, being launched by necessity in her general direction. There was no chance of getting his head from here (and she didn't wish to try splitting his brains in two) but from the angle there was a chance... The old man had wanted to remove "only one" limb each? Let's see how he liked losing an arm before even reaching the floor.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko When the sword flashed towards the old man, a shower of sparks flew up centimeters before it actually cleaved into his flesh. Some sort of defensive spell? In a surprising show of physical prowess, as he hit the floor he caught himself with one hand, sliding back along the ground and straightening. "So it seems I miscalculated," he began, "Your allies will likely be here in moments, so I must end this quickly." Reaching to his side, her gripped his sleeve and tore it off, exposing a set of markings on his arm. "Runecraft?" Bunny asked, narrowing her eyes, squaring up as she did. "Exactly," the man began, "My body houses-" Almost immediately the onmyouji was on him while he was speaking, her firsts slamming relentlessly into the defensive barrier over his body, sparks flying. It seemed she'd concluded the best way to take out his defensive field was by overwhelming it. And seconds later, she was sent flying across the room. "... Reinforcement, enhancemenet, destruction," the Daidouji continued, lowering his hand as Bunny slammed into the wall, "The runecraft on my body far exceeds the skills of a young onmyouji." And yet, one could almost see the cracks in the barrier over his chest where the black-haired thief's fists had struck...</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Talking. Too much talking, and it was giving her the slightest seconds to weigh her chances. Reinforced and enhanced--a dangerous combo, he was almost certainly stronger through magic alone than she was despite her youth and athleticism. Yet his barrier had been pounded away at and was visibly showing cracks. A single strong blow might be enough to break it--or better, pierce right through. A normal katana would probably shatter first but hers, a blade forged by youkai and named for the mountains, was as rigid and durable as an oni's club. She'd seen the demonstration. Ryuuko's plan was set and her body already moving to it, committed to victory or death. Draw on everything, magic, muscle, or otherwise. Reinforce her abilities to their maximum extent, legs and arms both, and spring close the gap. Follow through with everything she can, a perfect rising arc straight out of iaijutsu though the blade wasn't sheathed-- And pray his defences can be cut through.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko The elder Daidouji held his ground. While his barrier was cracked, he was certain it would hold up against a mere blade. He raised his fists in preparation, eyes narrowing... wait. The gleam along the edge, the specific way the metal seemed to flash... was that...?! "A yokai blade?!" he cried, attempting to backstep out of the way as swiftly as he could. But it was far, far too late. The weapon flashed downwards, and in and instant there was a sound like shattering glass as cracks spiderwebbed out from the point of impact and spread through his already-damaged barrier. It splintered, shattering to pieces and fading away into nothing. "... How foolish of me," he admonished himself, raising one hand, "To have not perceived the true nature of your weapon until it was too late. Now my defenses are lost." He waved one hand over his bare arm, and the runes suddenly blazed crimson. "I won't allow you to take this opportunity from me," he continued, as the red aura swiftly spread from the runes to coat his entire arm. It was a field spell, and anyone who knew what the Daidouji family's affinity was could swiftly surmise what the field would do to what it touched.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Shit. The barrier had gone but without extracting a price in blood. "The Yama-no-Hone-no-Tsurugi," the purple-haired girl confirmed, sliding into a defensive stance. That arm... she wasn't going to risk a blade as old and venerable as any of Masamune's work in a contest of magic and strength. Yet all that she had to do was hold him at bay until the other two arrived with a more at-range method of putting this old fool down. She would have to treat his arm in all regards like a sword--and, as a sword, avoid crossing her blade with it unless it was a last resort. She would have to adopt the attitude that any clash of weapons at best risked mutual disarmament. But here his physical advantages meant nothing; strength and speed but no defences put him in the same boat as Ryuuko. With nothing but skill, the equation could be balanced... and the heiress was perfectly confident that an old magus wasn't as proficient in hand to hand as she was. And so, dodging and ducking and never quite removing the threat of being cut and probing openings, the dance began.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Hm. Even a yokai blade can still be destroyed," mused the old mage, arranging his fingers and thumb in a flat manner to form a blade. "Either your weapon will be eliminated first, or you will be." The following attacks were aimed entirely at the katana. His fighting style was fast and vicious, but Ryuuko's guess had been correct: The Daidouji was not as skilled in hand to hand and was not capable of avoiding her slashes as well as he would have hoped, forced to dodge in and out in a bit to make his attacks. And yet, his assault was a ferocious one. He did not have time to cast any spells that would give him a clear advantage, but he did have time to activate the runes on his other arm, spreading a red aura across it as well, his sleeve seeming to dissolve as it was exposed to the destructive energy. His attacks became faster, more furious. And yet, he still struggled to land a hit. Every time he found a moment where he could, it also placed him at far too much of a risk. It was a violent dance, one where either opponent could be slain at any second. Trails of red energy followed the Daidouji mage's slicing hands, and it's likely neither of them would realize anything else had changed in the room. But soon enough, the mage caught a whiff... of cigarette smoke. "I was wondering when you'd notice," commented Toshiko, blowing out a stream of smoke. Suspended in the air was the burning shape of a theurgic sigil, one she had carved in place with her cigarette's smoldering tip. "Ando Toshiko...!" the man's eyes widened, but it was far too late for him to act. "Accendo," said Toshiko simply. The symbol suddenly blazed a deep shade of red. Almost immediately, the old Daidouji clutched his chest, letting out a wheeze... a horrible smell erupted from his mouth, a smell unmistakably that of burning flesh. Indeed, moments later, flames seemed to leap from his throat as he staggered, clutching at his body and stumbling to the side. He was burning from the inside out. Toshiko took a drag on her cigarette. "There's not much I won't do to defend my employees, and she's a student as well," she commented, as if explaining her actions to the rapidly burning man, "You should have suspected that much." The elder Daidouji's feet hit the side of the hole he'd made his way in throw, and as flames erupted out of his chest cavity he fell. "... Haah," Toshiko let out a sigh, "Good work, Ryuuko-san. I wouldn't have been able to do that if he'd been paying attention." At around that moment, Kitty too also made her way into the room... and almost immediately ran for the unconscious Bunny.</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The sound of flames downstairs was the signal to shift the grip on her blade, anticipating that the target would be coming through any moment now. Then he did--just not through the door, and not in a situation that she could have struck at him. Even with all the speed in the world, the most likely outcome would have been to cut Bunny's head off first; the situation wasn't desperate enough to start sacrificing allies in the name of victory. Bunny's brains were safely not blasted across the room by an unexpected explosion, the roar of which briefly made the yakuza wonder how on Earth they'd managed to get her mother to show up here--drunk. Reality asserted itself as the Daidouji went flying, being launched by necessity in her general direction. There was no chance of getting his head from here (and she didn't wish to try splitting his brains in two) but from the angle there was a chance... The old man had wanted to remove "only one" limb each? Let's see how he liked losing an arm before even reaching the floor.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko When the sword flashed towards the old man, a shower of sparks flew up centimeters before it actually cleaved into his flesh. Some sort of defensive spell? In a surprising show of physical prowess, as he hit the floor he caught himself with one hand, sliding back along the ground and straightening. "So it seems I miscalculated," he began, "Your allies will likely be here in moments, so I must end this quickly." Reaching to his side, her gripped his sleeve and tore it off, exposing a set of markings on his arm. "Runecraft?" Bunny asked, narrowing her eyes, squaring up as she did. "Exactly," the man began, "My body houses-" Almost immediately the onmyouji was on him while he was speaking, her firsts slamming relentlessly into the defensive barrier over his body, sparks flying. It seemed she'd concluded the best way to take out his defensive field was by overwhelming it. And seconds later, she was sent flying across the room. "... Reinforcement, enhancemenet, destruction," the Daidouji continued, lowering his hand as Bunny slammed into the wall, "The runecraft on my body far exceeds the skills of a young onmyouji." And yet, one could almost see the cracks in the barrier over his chest where the black-haired thief's fists had struck...</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Talking. Too much talking, and it was giving her the slightest seconds to weigh her chances. Reinforced and enhanced--a dangerous combo, he was almost certainly stronger through magic alone than she was despite her youth and athleticism. Yet his barrier had been pounded away at and was visibly showing cracks. A single strong blow might be enough to break it--or better, pierce right through. A normal katana would probably shatter first but hers, a blade forged by youkai and named for the mountains, was as rigid and durable as an oni's club. She'd seen the demonstration. Ryuuko's plan was set and her body already moving to it, committed to victory or death. Draw on everything, magic, muscle, or otherwise. Reinforce her abilities to their maximum extent, legs and arms both, and spring close the gap. Follow through with everything she can, a perfect rising arc straight out of iaijutsu though the blade wasn't sheathed-- And pray his defences can be cut through.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko The elder Daidouji held his ground. While his barrier was cracked, he was certain it would hold up against a mere blade. He raised his fists in preparation, eyes narrowing... wait. The gleam along the edge, the specific way the metal seemed to flash... was that...?! "A yokai blade?!" he cried, attempting to backstep out of the way as swiftly as he could. But it was far, far too late. The weapon flashed downwards, and in and instant there was a sound like shattering glass as cracks spiderwebbed out from the point of impact and spread through his already-damaged barrier. It splintered, shattering to pieces and fading away into nothing. "... How foolish of me," he admonished himself, raising one hand, "To have not perceived the true nature of your weapon until it was too late. Now my defenses are lost." He waved one hand over his bare arm, and the runes suddenly blazed crimson. "I won't allow you to take this opportunity from me," he continued, as the red aura swiftly spread from the runes to coat his entire arm. It was a field spell, and anyone who knew what the Daidouji family's affinity was could swiftly surmise what the field would do to what it touched.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Shit. The barrier had gone but without extracting a price in blood. "The Yama-no-Hone-no-Tsurugi," the purple-haired girl confirmed, sliding into a defensive stance. That arm... she wasn't going to risk a blade as old and venerable as any of Masamune's work in a contest of magic and strength. Yet all that she had to do was hold him at bay until the other two arrived with a more at-range method of putting this old fool down. She would have to treat his arm in all regards like a sword--and, as a sword, avoid crossing her blade with it unless it was a last resort. She would have to adopt the attitude that any clash of weapons at best risked mutual disarmament. But here his physical advantages meant nothing; strength and speed but no defences put him in the same boat as Ryuuko. With nothing but skill, the equation could be balanced... and the heiress was perfectly confident that an old magus wasn't as proficient in hand to hand as she was. And so, dodging and ducking and never quite removing the threat of being cut and probing openings, the dance began.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Hm. Even a yokai blade can still be destroyed," mused the old mage, arranging his fingers and thumb in a flat manner to form a blade. "Either your weapon will be eliminated first, or you will be." The following attacks were aimed entirely at the katana. His fighting style was fast and vicious, but Ryuuko's guess had been correct: The Daidouji was not as skilled in hand to hand and was not capable of avoiding her slashes as well as he would have hoped, forced to dodge in and out in a bit to make his attacks. And yet, his assault was a ferocious one. He did not have time to cast any spells that would give him a clear advantage, but he did have time to activate the runes on his other arm, spreading a red aura across it as well, his sleeve seeming to dissolve as it was exposed to the destructive energy. His attacks became faster, more furious. And yet, he still struggled to land a hit. Every time he found a moment where he could, it also placed him at far too much of a risk. It was a violent dance, one where either opponent could be slain at any second. Trails of red energy followed the Daidouji mage's slicing hands, and it's likely neither of them would realize anything else had changed in the room. But soon enough, the mage caught a whiff... of cigarette smoke. "I was wondering when you'd notice," commented Toshiko, blowing out a stream of smoke. Suspended in the air was the burning shape of a theurgic sigil, one she had carved in place with her cigarette's smoldering tip. "Ando Toshiko...!" the man's eyes widened, but it was far too late for him to act. "Accendo," said Toshiko simply. The symbol suddenly blazed a deep shade of red. Almost immediately, the old Daidouji clutched his chest, letting out a wheeze... a horrible smell erupted from his mouth, a smell unmistakably that of burning flesh. Indeed, moments later, flames seemed to leap from his throat as he staggered, clutching at his body and stumbling to the side. He was burning from the inside out. Toshiko took a drag on her cigarette. "There's not much I won't do to defend my employees, and she's a student as well," she commented, as if explaining her actions to the rapidly burning man, "You should have suspected that much." The elder Daidouji's feet hit the side of the hole he'd made his way in throw, and as flames erupted out of his chest cavity he fell. "... Haah," Toshiko let out a sigh, "Good work, Ryuuko-san. I wouldn't have been able to do that if he'd been paying attention." At around that moment, Kitty too also made her way into the room... and almost immediately ran for the unconscious Bunny.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The fighting was exciting, there was no denying that. One slip up meant death and with that on the line... ah, the blood was singing in her ears. Every step made deliberately to a tempo driven by the beating of her heart, every cut one with her breath. Despite her best intent, Ryuuko couldn't avoid cracking a grin as the old man produced another one of those tricks, making the other arm every bit as deadly--well, two could play at that game, and the knife took pride of place in her left hand. She toyed for an instant with sacrificing the tantō, it wasn't anything more than a traditionally forged blade. Force one arm out of position, lunge in for the killing blow... but it was too risky and from the corner of her eye, she took in her mentor arriving on the scene, cigarette lit. Step by step as she continued the dance, angling the fight back and away from the door. Was he not attuned to the battlefield? Was he so single-minded in his offence that the smoke was beyond him? He was. A shame, a series of feints would have been able to open him right up. "Some day soon, I will have to learn something more akin to that. A fight where I cannot get within striking distance of my foe is exciting but I wish for alternatives all the same," the heiress said, sheathing her blades, "I take it we return the urn, now?"</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Indeed, let's get it back quickly," Toshiko nodded in asset, arms folded as she approached the vase in question. Thankfully it hadn't been activated. That could have made the ensuing fight quite a bit more difficult, to say the least. If it absorbed mana, that meant that it would have been difficult to use spells at all in its presence if it was activated. Still, it was best they packed it away and got it back to its rightful owners as soon as they could. "Do you care about anything other then that stupid vase?!" cried Kitty, suddenly. Toshiko glanced towards her, and noted that Bunny still seemed to be unconscious. "She's still breathing, isn't she?" Toshiko asked. As if on cue, there was a low groan from the bigger of the two thieves.</s>
<\|description\|>Miura Ryuuko * Age: 24 * Appearance: Her practically universal attire. Aside from that, Ryuuko is unusually tall for a Japanese woman, and the kimono only somewhat succeeds in hiding her surprisingly ample curves. What cannot be seen is the clearly defined muscles the girl has--nor the sprawling tattoo that prohibits her from going many places in Japan less dressed. * Personality: Superficially, Ryuuko appears to be a polite and congenial girl, mild in attitudes to a fault and a prime example of what every Japanese lady should aspire to be, by tradition. It isn't a fully manufactured façade; she places a high importance on her duty to her family and the skills demanded of a former head. It simply happens that one cannot be the future head of a yakuza family without some of that civility and good nature being a deliberate manufacture. Indeed, although she finds killing to be a matter of last resort, this is hardly from some moral consideration--all things considered, deaths attract suspicion and waste a potentially valuable resource. This affected attitude is more than just a social convention, it's a method for suppressing strong desires to act at the other end of the spectrum--violent, brash, and hedonistic. Though she denies the impulses and refuses to act on them, she still takes pleasure in fights and keeps a very tight reign on her temper. Maybe it would be easier to simply express herself, but that would cause a loss of face even before the trouble itself started up. Her likes and dislikes are simple: she dislikes shoes, hates roller-coasters and Toshiko's driving, and likes both sake and traditional styling in copious amounts. Outside of this and practising her skills, Ryuuko finds that little catches her interest and tends to be blatantly apathetic to it. * Abilities: Ryuuko's first and foremost skill is her swordsmanship. Without this, her offerings to Fu Sonzai no Gensō would be completely non-existent. She has the ability to win tournaments with ease, if she would restrict herself to using the correct forms, but finds them to be completely wasteful. Where other children had friends or hobbies, Ryuuko had training with the blade and for her future role. Predominantly accomplished fighting with the single long blade, she is also versed with a shorter sword, a dagger, paired blades, and iaijutsu. Rounding out the skill set--at her mother's insistence she hone all the skills of a samurai--she's also got basic competence with the spear and bow. Magically, she is a novice relying on Toshiko's training. Though an affinity for Void is an interesting, albeit highly negative, one with which to work, her presence at the agency is more for her own magical education than to provide her services--she has no need of the job. Her sole magical ability is the very most basic reinforcement. Her physique, impressive as it is, doesn't come from the same sort of diligent training most would have to put into it. Though her denial of the impulses that come with her heritage prevents her from benefiting in most manners, being a hanyou still causes her to retain a far better figure in most regards with only her normal practice. She also has a driving license. * Equipment: Unless she wishes to owe her father special favours and call in her family's resources, Ryuuko has a simple tanto hidden in her obi and an heirloom sword. Forged by youkai, her father passed it down early as it does not suit his fighting style, and the blade is near impervious to any form of damage. It goes by the name of Yama-no-Hone-no-Tsurugi, which hints somewhat at what might have gone into manufacturing it... * Brief Backstory: On one side of her family, she claims descent from the original Miura, and through them back to the Taira and Minamoto, and from there all the way back to imperial lines. On her mother's side she claims descent from... well, her mother claims to be the Shuten-Dōji but there's no way of verifying that. This is simply the most pronounced the family's mixed involvement in mundane and supernatural affairs, making her the first heir in the family with such direct involvement in both sides, though all have been raised in the knowledge that a supernatural world exists. However, she doesn't depart from tradition to not train the heir in magic or the supernatural until their basic education has completed--sufficient to run a major operation which works in the criminal underground on both sides of the border. Being the heir to a yakuza clan with such a traditional background has its advantages, even though it harmed her ability to make friends or the like. With private tutors and no distractions, she graduated from the top of her class and entered into Todai, studying classical Japanese literature and learning how to manage business affairs in her own time. It was upon graduation that it was considered time for her to embrace her magical heritage, with her father seeking out someone willing to train one with such a materialistic and unsavoury background in exchange for money or--in this case--her services to the agency. This delay in training is implemented for practical reasons, as any family head of theirs will need a wide set of skills to thrive in the difficult environment, but also from a belief that their affinity will show through stronger and manifest efficiently if left alone to adulthood. With Ryuuko's apathy to that beyond her narrow interests, it might be accurate indeed.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Downstairs, the agency's current sole employee was lounging on a saggy and faded couch, bare legs draped over one armrest. Its out of the way spot was perfect for Ryuuko's uses: good sight of the staircase if Toshiko came down, a sight of the door should some customer miraculously find the building, and in a straight line from a window. Even in her brief time here so far, the beaten-up couch had shown to be a wonderfully warm spot on a sunny day. Entirely unlike today. The thick air spoke of rain and a grey pallor hung over everything. The heiress had turned on the lights, and resolved once again to get a better lampshade for Toshiko's seemingly endless supply of incandescent bulbs, before taking her usual spot and reading through everything she'd so far learned about the way magic worked. It wasn't very encouraging reading, at least with her affinity in mind: all the simple demonstrations seemed to involve actively doing something. From the get-go, she was disadvantaged in even doing that. No lighting a candle, no breeze through the hair... not without more work. She sighed, putting the binder aside and falling back. A sound from the stairs caught Ryuuko's attention and she sat up again, looking in Toshiko's direction, "Tea? You're earlier than normal."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko paused for only a moment when she saw the girl lying on her couch. Ah, her... currently single employee, and rather ironically part of an organized crime family. However, that was not the sort of crime that the redheaded mage had formed this agency in order to counteract. Besides, she was hardly about to protest at being employed to teach someone magic, especially if it allowed her to have assistance on cases. She eyed the tea for only a moment before responding. "I think I'd enjoy a cup of tea," she said, simply, before putting her cigarette in her mouth and taking another long drag. After a moment, she took it out, and the smoke curled into the air. Ah, such a grey, dreary day... not at all reflective of the relative optimism that had risen in the woman's heart. After all, she had a case, at last. Funds were running particularly thin... "But aside from that," she continued, raising the case file, "We've got a new case. They've been in contact since last night. It's a theft, and they're pretty eager to get us down there." She offered the file to the yakuza princess.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Certain parts of Toshiko were more notable than others but they were quickly ignored through a veil of professionalism. Reading the same things so much was boring, even if it had the potential to reshape her skills entirely. Even the ritual of making tea, brought from a fine art to a simple, crass process of making a drink, was a welcome respite from trying to work out the "simplest expression of your affinity": what was simple about an absence? Ryuuko swung her legs off the couch and set the water to boil, smoothing down today's simpler, green kimono whilst waiting. They had a case? That was a welcome development, since she'd always expected a detective agency to be more interesting. The gaps between cases were certainly teaching her a childhood's worth of lessons on being lazy. It was almost disappointing that it was only a theft... The detective offered her a file whilst the tea was starting to brew and she glanced through it, noting the oddities. She placed it on a table before removing the leaves and handing the cup over, then looked again in more detail. Stolen without a trace... "If the security was defeated without being disabled, then only someone who knew the security intimately could be responsible. I expect a family member or someone in their employ, as no spy with enough skill would lower themselves to mere thievery," the heiress stated, her own cup clasped between two hands.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko took a sip of her tea, and decided to elaborate a bit more on some matters that the case file didn't exactly clarify. "Now, I'm not sure if you're aware of the history of the Daidouji family, but I'll give a quick rundown just in case you're not. The Daidouji Mage family has splintered into many, many branches. Every single last one of these branches hates the other. And when I say hates, I mean backstabbing and murder aren't out of the realm of possibility when it comes to one branch to another. Our suspect may be the member of another branch," she explained. It was certainly the case. Toshiko had once met one of the Daidouji heirs. She was a gorgeous girl, short, deep black hair. She had told Toshiko her ultimate goal was to kill her uncle, who had apparently stolen her mother's magic grimoire. She didn't know if the girl had succeeded, but regardless of if she had or not it was rather clear to Toshiko what kind of family she was dealing with. The fierce rivalries between each of the branches had only grown more and more violent as time went on. Ah, such was the Daidouji. "Your guess at the perpetrator being a family member is hardly an unlikely one," she concluded, taking another sip of tea.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko's eyes narrowed as the family was described. Old enough to have splintered repeatedly and yet every branch was claiming equal importance... yet owing none of the loyalty to one another that such a description would suggest. To her, someone that placed her family's wishes before anything else, such a self-interested approach to the rest of one's relatives was abhorrent. Well, maybe the Miura's lack of fragmentation helped--for instance, she had no siblings--but to intentionally set out to kill one another as a matter of course... This wasn't her detective agency, however, and dealing with unsavoury sorts was part of her education. No matter that such a group offended her sensibilities, Ryuuko would stomach them for the sake of their contract. If any information might present itself that might aid her father... well, she'd ask Toshiko when the time came. The girl took another drink of the cooling tea, looking once more at her teacher: "If this family cannot trust their kin, I hope that we shall not rely on their hospitality. I will be bringing my sword but there is little I can do against magic."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Trust their kin? My, the prospect of that was... interesting. Toshiko's own family had once attempted to murder her, simply because she rejected what she saw as a fool's errand. Even now, as her sister's efforts had cooled their rage, they still sought to punish her for what they saw as a betrayal. Even her sister thought she needed some kind of punishment... and for what? It wasn't as if she was the one who had been cheated out of learning ancient magic from the time of Babylon. It wasn't as if she was the one who continued to believe in an impossibility. Humans could quite simply no longer obtain the Origin of All. That bloody ritual that promised the origin to the one who claimed the white night was nothing less then the act of fools. Toshiko took another sip of tea. "It's not as if I'm unfamiliar with an untrustworthy family," the redheaded woman commented, simply, in an off-hand fashion, "In any case, we should probably get moving. The sooner we reach them and solve this case, the sooner we can get paid."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The swordswoman set aside her remaining tea and began preparing to go out. It wouldn't make sense to visit a crime scene unarmed and unshod, and she always made sure to have another knife as backup in case things got out of hand. Most people would let their guard down if they saw someone visibly disarmed, no matter how supernatural. It was as she was picking up the sword, now properly dressed for going outdoors--not that the addition of socks was really that large of a change--that the inevitable downside of Toshiko deciding 'the sooner we reach them' reared its head. Particularly because speed was not of the essence to Ryuuko, as the money made no difference to her... "Ah, Toshiko-san, could you possibly allow me to drive?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ah?" As Toshiko headed for the door, she glanced back over her shoulder. Ryuuko wanted to drive? Why was that? After all, Toshiko felt that she always made incredibly decent time when driving. They always arrived far under the projected time of arrival, didn't they? Of course. So what was the reason for Ryuuko had for wanting to drive? "Why do you ask, Ryuuko-kun?" Toshiko answered the question with one of her own.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It amazed Ryuuko that Toshiko couldn't see how bad her driving was. Even magi didn't seem to be so insular that "everyone else in the world considers doing it that badly to be a terrible idea" and yet Toshiko had gained a car and used it for years without the slightest bit of trouble. More than her magical abilities, it was her ability to get away with such driving that was truly frightening. But that couldn't be said to her face. "I believe that we might make a better impression if we arrive in less of a visible hurry." And if she didn't arrive suppressing the urge to throw up.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko was rather quick with a counterpoint of her own. "Ah, but if it looks like we just took our time, wouldn't that make the clients believe we aren't taking things seriously?" she asked. Toshiko was, in general, rather pleased with her driving abilities. She never hit anything, she didn't think anyone was in danger, and the police never got after her. All in all, it was pretty good for someone with no driver's licence who had never taken a single lesson. Self-taught driving was just as good as anything else, right?</s>	<\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Such a counter-argument was easily dismissed: "Arriving within a time obeying all speed limits would have us looking punctual. Rushing would make us appear desperate whilst costing more in fuel." Maybe the monetary argument would sway Toshiko into letting someone else drive for once? Looking up to see near miss after near miss... if she could find where Toshiko's keys were kept, she would have tried to bribe or blackmail her employer into taking proper lessons.</s>

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<\|description\|>Will Fleeter Age: 10 Appearance: Years in the Academy: This would be his first. Ancestors: Not a relative of any of the previous Avengers... to his best knowledge. Powers/Abilities: Will defies the laws of friction and gravity, meaning he can slide across rough surfaces as if they were ice, run up vertical walls, and hang upside-down indefinitely without succumbing to displaced blood. He can also jump really high, but can't actually fly. Bio: Will was born to a 20 year old prostitute in Tel Aviv, Israel. Naturally his mother wasn't the one to name him. He didn't actually have a name until he was briefly adopted at six months old, only to be sent back into the wards of state. With his mother being unwilling to raise the child and his father being an untraceable mystery, the baby was sent from orphanage to orphanage for a while before somehow winding up in the United States foster care system. By this point he was almost seven years old, and the lack of stability of his situation was starting to wear down on him. He had a few really bad experiences in the foster system, mostly getting picked on by the other kids in the system. That's when he learned to keep his head down and plaster a fake smile on his face, hoping that would make all his problems go away. That's when the Fleeters come in. A young married couple with no children of their own decided to foster Will, only to realize that being a parent of a young child was more work than they were prepared for. Instead of sending Will back into the system, they started to neglect him, leaving him alone in the house for days on end while they continued to live their lives as if they had no children. Will started falling behind in school, but nobody ever found out about it because his parents just didn't care. Around the age of nine and a half, he started to notice that he had some weird abilities. He could run straight up vertical surfaces as if he were an insect, defy the laws of friction to move faster. It was as if the earth's gravitational pull had no effect on the limits of what he could do. His parents never noticed, but the school staff definitely did. Doing some background research, it was decided that the most likely cause of his powers was that his father was an alien or superhuman of some kind. Since his mother was a prostitute who by no means kept track of her clientele, his father's real identity is virtually indecipherable. But some part of Will's genetics carries some strange abilities. As to why they manifested so late, it's impossible to tell without his father's identity. As it stands, very little is known about Will's potential. So for the meantime, he's been sent here to try and hone and perfect his abilities, and to see exactly what the limits are on what he can do. Family/Relationships?: Will is a foster child. He has no permanent family. His current 'parents' are not necessarily abusive, but they are extremely neglectful and absentminded. The good side of this is that he can do whatever he wants without getting into trouble with his parental authorities, but it also means he's without an important source of support. James Victor Rodgers James protected Will from the rocket, but they haven't actually spoken Mark Westbrook Stranger Annabelle Boltagon Stranger Vix Stranger Charlotte Rhodes Stranger Richard Parker Stranger Alex Kinney Stranger Weapons: Sometimes he'll carry a knife or two with him, but has no special or supernatural weaponry. Personality: Will does his best to be courteous to everyone and is by no means a reckless risk taker. He values his own safety and the safety of others, even if he is going in for a potentially dangerous job. While not overly ambitious, he is curious and likes to explore and learn things. He's not always the best at carrying on conversations and can sometimes be a bit awkward in social situations.Despite being highly sensitive, he rarely shows negative emotions in front of other people and is a bit of a 'Stepford Smiler'. On some level, he feels like his peers only like him if he acts friendly and affable all the time, like he's not really allowed to have feelings. Will seems to hate being touched, especially by people he doesn't know. Occasionally he will tolerate small amounts of physical contact from friends, be he will never seek it out himself. At heart, Will is an optimist. He really does believe that everything will turn out right in the end if he's careful not to slip up. Other: -Will speaks with a Midwestern American accent -He is anemic and hypoglycemic, meaning he has low levels of iron and blood sugar. Neither of these conditions are terribly life threatening, but they can occasionally be problematic if they cause him to pass out unexpectedly. -In his spare time, Will enjoys drawing and learning to play fiddle. -He wears gloves at all times, both the normal and fingerless varieties. Nobody really knows why.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will Fleeter A decrepit, ugly grey station wagon pulled up several yards away from the entrance to the massive campus. As soon as its young passenger climbed out, the driver slammed the door at took off, leaving the small boy abandoned and staring up in awe at his new school. The boy's big brown eyes took in every inch of the gargantuan buildings and strange, futuristic architectural design. It was rather intimidating, actually. He'd never been here before, and had never imagined it would be this large. Were superhuman abilities so common they needed all this space to house the students? Impossible. He hesitantly picked up his old leather suitcase that was so ancient it looked like an antique, and walked into the campus. The Israeli boy had a strange way of walking. He sort of glided a bit, as if his shoes had no friction. He walked quickly, stiffly and with apprehension. He entered the main building, hoping someone could direct him to the dorms. A security guard showed him up to his room, a tiny little space that he was certain was a repurposed closet. It was comfortable enough, with its blue bed and carpet, old couch and small television. He put down his suitcase, and locked the door to the room, wanting to do some exploring before he got to unpacking. Even though he wasn't hungry (on the contrary, he felt rather sick to his stomach), he made his way down to the cafeteria. That was where most of the other students were, and where he was probably supposed to be. He looked around shyly, seeing that there were no empty tables. He'd have to ask someone if he could sit with them. Og, crud... he thought, losing his nerve and deciding to skip breakfast and leave the cafeteria. It was around then he realized exactly how long the drive up had been, and that he really needed to find a bathroom. All the more reason to leave now.</s> <\|message\|>James Victor Rogers James stepped out of his dorm room nice and clean, wearing a pair of worn jeans, some training shoes, a gray t-shirt with a dark blue canvas jacket, and on his back was his triangular shield given to him by his grandpa Rogers. For six years James has been trying to do the best he possibly could. He loved his family, and loved that he came from a line of heroes, but that isn't why he was here. He wanted to help people, it was in his blood. He could never turn away from a fight, especially if people needed help somewhere. It proved to be challenging at times though, here at school. People either feared or respected him because of who his grandparents were, and who his mom was... James was quick to anger whenever someone used his family to try and insult him, and that usually ended in the other students going to the Academy's nurse/emergency room. He wasn't perfect, but he like he said, he was trying. James made it to the cafeteria to see it already packed. Scanning the room he had to smile a bit. His grandparents would tell James about how humans and superhumans never fully got along until recently. There were many kids at this school who had no true powers, but they had a lot give. He saw familiar faces, he gave smiles and nods to those who called over at him, and he was about to go grab some breakfast until he heard a lard crash and a "LOOK OUT!" James turned to see what seemed to be a little "project-gone-wrong" flying through the cafeteria. Screams and shrieks filled the room as the rocket-like object soared with incredible speed, right at a very young looking kid. James without hesitation ran and vaulted over a table, taking the shield off his back. James stood in front of the kid, shield drawn and as soon as the rocket came at him, he swatted it away with a metallic "Ting!". "Hey!! Heads up!" James yelled as the rocket flew away from the crowd upwards. He knew someone in this cafeteria had the power to fully stop the thing.</s> <\|message\|>Mark Westbrook Mark was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, as well as a plain leather jacket as he waited in line for food. He kept the collar in the back a bit higher then normal to hide the plate that was his inactive symbiote. He didn't like to stand out. Gathering a good helping of eggs and bacon, he made his way to his usual quiet table in the corner. There were a few people he recognized and waved to, but Mark still preferred his solitude. He didn't do to well in social situations. It was one of the reasons why few people knew he was in the Next Avengers program to begin with. Hell, not many people had seen his symbiote in action, honestly. Mark was about halfway through his breakfast when he heard the crash. Suddenly looking up from his food, he saw an odd rocket looking device come barraling through the cafeteria. He cringed as it looked about to hit one of the younger students, but breathed a sigh of relief when James Rogers came out of no where and batted it out of nowhere. Mark had certainly heard of James Rogers. After all, who hadn't at the academy? Still, it was another thing to actually see him in action. He shook himself from his surprise, noticing that no one had actually solved the rocket problem. "Dammit. So much for blending in," Mark muttered under his breath. If no one else was stepping in, than he would have to. "Euclid, I need suit, jets, and whips." As he ran forward, the liquid metal from his plate shot around his body like a sort of cocoon, before skin and metal molded together into his suit. Getting to a clear space in the cafeteria, away from the panicking crowds, Mark began to grow two small thrusters from his back, and long, thin metal strands shot out of his wrists. Kicking off the ground, Mark flew above the center of the cafeteria, and threw his whips at the rocket. As they wrapped around, Mark made a movement with his wrists, causing small blades to pop out and latch onto the rocket. Pulling back as hard as he could, he managed to keep the rocket from hitting another group of students near one of the tables. But even though he was holding it in place, this was hardly a permanent solution. "I've got it.....I think," he said loudly over the roar of the rocket. "Some help would be nice though. Please?"</s>	<\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will was just on his way out of the cafeteria when a scream ran through the room, and the next thing he knew someone bolted in front of him protectively and smacked a rocket like object away from the two of them. Will was shocked, not really knowing what had just happened. He stuttered a bit, but said nothing, backing away slowly as if cornered by predatory animals. It was clear that these kids had much, much more powerful and dangerous abilities than his. His little gravity-defying tricks were cool and all, but some kid over there just summoned a suit out of nothing. He was way out of his league, and now he knew it. Will usually hated to show negative emotions like fear, but this time he'd been caught by surprise and his little act was slipping. His tanned skin had gone pale, and he was shivering and clearly hyperventilating a bit. He now stood a few feet away from the boy who'd protected him, trying to regain his composure. As much as he hated to admit it, Will was a bit jumpy and easy to startle. Some kid asked for help controlling the rocket, and the 10 year old knew he'd be unable to assist. His powers worked great for things like self defense, but when it came to attacks and protecting others, they were virtually useless. Besides, he'd only had his powers for about six months. He was still getting the hang of using them. Maybe they'd be more useful when he was older, like these kids were.</s>
<\|description\|>Will Fleeter Age: 10 Appearance: Years in the Academy: This would be his first. Ancestors: Not a relative of any of the previous Avengers... to his best knowledge. Powers/Abilities: Will defies the laws of friction and gravity, meaning he can slide across rough surfaces as if they were ice, run up vertical walls, and hang upside-down indefinitely without succumbing to displaced blood. He can also jump really high, but can't actually fly. Bio: Will was born to a 20 year old prostitute in Tel Aviv, Israel. Naturally his mother wasn't the one to name him. He didn't actually have a name until he was briefly adopted at six months old, only to be sent back into the wards of state. With his mother being unwilling to raise the child and his father being an untraceable mystery, the baby was sent from orphanage to orphanage for a while before somehow winding up in the United States foster care system. By this point he was almost seven years old, and the lack of stability of his situation was starting to wear down on him. He had a few really bad experiences in the foster system, mostly getting picked on by the other kids in the system. That's when he learned to keep his head down and plaster a fake smile on his face, hoping that would make all his problems go away. That's when the Fleeters come in. A young married couple with no children of their own decided to foster Will, only to realize that being a parent of a young child was more work than they were prepared for. Instead of sending Will back into the system, they started to neglect him, leaving him alone in the house for days on end while they continued to live their lives as if they had no children. Will started falling behind in school, but nobody ever found out about it because his parents just didn't care. Around the age of nine and a half, he started to notice that he had some weird abilities. He could run straight up vertical surfaces as if he were an insect, defy the laws of friction to move faster. It was as if the earth's gravitational pull had no effect on the limits of what he could do. His parents never noticed, but the school staff definitely did. Doing some background research, it was decided that the most likely cause of his powers was that his father was an alien or superhuman of some kind. Since his mother was a prostitute who by no means kept track of her clientele, his father's real identity is virtually indecipherable. But some part of Will's genetics carries some strange abilities. As to why they manifested so late, it's impossible to tell without his father's identity. As it stands, very little is known about Will's potential. So for the meantime, he's been sent here to try and hone and perfect his abilities, and to see exactly what the limits are on what he can do. Family/Relationships?: Will is a foster child. He has no permanent family. His current 'parents' are not necessarily abusive, but they are extremely neglectful and absentminded. The good side of this is that he can do whatever he wants without getting into trouble with his parental authorities, but it also means he's without an important source of support. James Victor Rodgers James protected Will from the rocket, but they haven't actually spoken Mark Westbrook Stranger Annabelle Boltagon Stranger Vix Stranger Charlotte Rhodes Stranger Richard Parker Stranger Alex Kinney Stranger Weapons: Sometimes he'll carry a knife or two with him, but has no special or supernatural weaponry. Personality: Will does his best to be courteous to everyone and is by no means a reckless risk taker. He values his own safety and the safety of others, even if he is going in for a potentially dangerous job. While not overly ambitious, he is curious and likes to explore and learn things. He's not always the best at carrying on conversations and can sometimes be a bit awkward in social situations.Despite being highly sensitive, he rarely shows negative emotions in front of other people and is a bit of a 'Stepford Smiler'. On some level, he feels like his peers only like him if he acts friendly and affable all the time, like he's not really allowed to have feelings. Will seems to hate being touched, especially by people he doesn't know. Occasionally he will tolerate small amounts of physical contact from friends, be he will never seek it out himself. At heart, Will is an optimist. He really does believe that everything will turn out right in the end if he's careful not to slip up. Other: -Will speaks with a Midwestern American accent -He is anemic and hypoglycemic, meaning he has low levels of iron and blood sugar. Neither of these conditions are terribly life threatening, but they can occasionally be problematic if they cause him to pass out unexpectedly. -In his spare time, Will enjoys drawing and learning to play fiddle. -He wears gloves at all times, both the normal and fingerless varieties. Nobody really knows why.</s> <\|message\|>Vix As mr. Laan accepted the proposition about more training and started to pair them up Vix opted against playing a game because of boredom. As her name came up she was pleased that she was paired up with Charlotte. It was a opportunity to get to know the girl personally. She moved up to Charlotte and smiled. "Vix. Nice we are paired up. I heard about you from uncle Tony." She started moving her hair a bit more over her forehead. They started walking with everyone else towards the training room. "He approves your music taste. " Vix commented lightly, her computer mind replaying the video memory of it. It was a fond memory for Vix as it happened shortly after the discovery of her failure, malfunction. His way of distracting her. "If you get to use your armor you should give me your channel so I can connect to you. For communication and strategy proposes." As they came in the room and were directed to their section they would have their teamwork out, Vix took a deep breath, trying to kill any process that will not be useful for the task ahead. To have a clear head. It was clear to Vix that if there were a leader in the team it would be Charlotte as she was longer in the school, and in the program as well. It was Vix first day in the advance program. That aside she started to replay the exercise she was taught during the last year. Calm content and she felt weightless, raising a few inches from the ground before she landed. That worked, she allowed herself to feel frustrated and she felt her mass increase. A second later she returned back to apathy that hold her as close to battle ready as she figured. She hoped really badly that the trigger feelings will not change during the simulation. As it appeared they would run the track beside each other, the two white hallways in front of them didnt look any different at first glance. The wall they shared was made out of glass which would allow them to see each other. Vix looked at Charlotte, raising an eyebrow to indicate that she should pick between the left or right hallway first.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will stiffened in surprise as Mr. Lang spoke to him. His gaze flitted to the floor and he blushed when Mr. Lang jokingly requested that he not pee on the floor. The older man was rather perceptive, but given that he was the second person to point out that he'd noticed, maybe Will was just being too damn obvious. He strained to stop fidgeting, biting his fingernails anxiously in a last-ditch attempt to take his mind off of things. Lang's female assistant gave a piece of news he had dreaded hearing. This was his first class. There was no way he'd be getting excused anytime soon. Internally panicking, Will dropped to the back of the group as they filed out towards the obstacle course. Now he had even more reasons to be drowning in anxiety. Partner activities were the worst. Having someone else rely on you when you were the least competent person in the whole room was a sickening thought. He continued to say nothing, glancing up at his partner with an apologetic sort of look. If Mark got mad at him for being a bad partner, he decided he wouldn't retaliate. Then again, Will wasn't really giving himself enough credit. He didn't really know what these people could do, he only assumed it was better than what he could do. In actuality, his ability was far from pathetic and he had remarkably good control over it for someone who'd only had it for less than a year. But in his mind, he imagined that because he was a beginner in an advanced course, he'd just end up making a fool of himself and making Mr. Lang regret ever giving him a chance.</s> <\|message\|>Mark Westbrook Mark largely kept quiet as James gave his "big heroic speech". IF they wanted to make a big thing of this, fine, but Mark just wanted to get to work. Too much drama over some stupid prank. Hearing that Will was in their class was a surprise, though. Mark hoped that Mr. Lang knew what he was doing. He figured that he would be put in a group with James. Seeing as he was the boy-scout and all, James would make a good mentor for the first exercise. This was precisely why Mark was so surprised to hear that HE would be paired with Will. Mark wasn't very good at the "social" thing, and wasn't sure if he was the best fit to show the new kid the ropes. As everyone filed off towards the obstacle courses, Mark was about to protest to Mr. Lang. Before he got anywhere, though, he saw Will give him an apologetic look. Mark couldn't help but be reminded of his own first year at the academy, before he got a handle on his powers. He felt Euclid give a nudge of curiosity at his indecision, before he had an idea. This wasn't going to go the same way. Mark wouldn't let history repeat itself. Putting on a confident look, Mark walked over. "You're Will, right? I'm Mark. There's a bathroom on the way to the arenas, but make it fast. And don't worry. We all have awkward first days." Mark waited for Will to prepare himself, and motioned for Will to move a little faster to catch up with the group when he finished. Before they stepped in their course, Mark spoke up again. "Ok, crash course before we go in. Abilities. Short version; I have a suit that gives me speed, strength, flight, and is really good for fights. What do you have?" Mark felt Euclid bristle with anger at being called a "suit", but he ignored it. He could fill in the details later.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will's eyes showed a small gleam of hope as Mark mentioned that they would pass by a bathroom on the way to the arena, but he just found himself locked into a conversation he felt obligated to finish before he just darted off. He forced a smile as he wracked his brain for the best way to explain his powers, coming up with nothing. His pause to think was starting to verge on an awkward silence so he just started blurting out everything that came to mind. "I can... stick to things. Kind of. I mean, like, you know how geckos can climb on ceilings and stuff? Yeah, that's what I can do. And, like, I can defy friction and slide across things. It's not really all that cool." Realizing he was starting to just babble pointlessly, he fell quiet, blushing a bit. He started walking a bit more stiffly, biting hard into his lower lip.</s> <\|message\|>James Victor Rogers James was now looking around the groups to make sure everyone was alright... People were discussing what their course of action is. Alex and Nao were discussing what to do. Knowing the guy, Alex was going to take lead on this. James also tried to make sure Will was alright where he was. He knew Mark wasn't the most sociable, and he hasn't been here the longest, but he was sure that the two would make it out alright. His thoughts were brought back to Anna as she started to talk. Ever since the two had met she had coined the term "Boy Scout" for him, and it stuck around campus... Although James couldn't complain he spent a lot of his childhood in the Boy Scouts... He mentally sighed to himself, thinking how cliche his parents were for signing him up for that. "I'm a little low on my cat saving quota this month so here's hoping. And remember, there's no award ceremony or a loving crowd waiting to get autographs from you after. James teased back, and then starting to stretch out his legs and arms. "This is strange. I know we've done a ton of obstacle courses like this before, but never on the first day. And never as random as these pairs..." The brown haired boy started, looking over at Anna. "We gotta stay on our toes. Especially for us. No doubt that Stark's database has us high up on their list considering who our grandparents are... I got your back. James meant that last part wholeheartedly. These courses were to push their limits. He had done these hundreds of times in his six years but for some reason he felt like he was a first year again, afraid of what was behind those doors.</s> <\|message\|>Mark Westbrook Mark started to process how he and Will could play off each other as he covered his powers. Sticking to walls was good. Mark could probably fly him around and get him to the ceiling to.....wait, DEFY FRICTION?! As he thought about that little development for a second, he noticed Will was still squirming. "Oh. Right. Bathroom is just over there. I'll wait here. Trust me, you don't want to do these courses with a full bladder." As Will used the bathroom quickly, Mark tried to strategize. This was only his second year in the program, but this looked like Will's first year in the SCHOOL. He would have to take charge here. Will was likely more agile then him, given the friction powers, so if Lang threw combat at them he could probably just dodge. That meant that Mark should probably prioritize any enemies they might find in there, and let Will focus on any buttons or targets or whatever. As Will came out of the bathroom, Mark stated "So, I don't know who told you defying a basic law of physics wasn't cool, but they clearly weren't an engineer. That sounds really useful. So here's the plan. If there are any targets or buttons we need to reach, I want you to focus on those. I'll take care of any enemies Lang decides to throw at us. Sound good?"</s>	<\|message\|>Will Fleeter "Sounds cool." Will said, sounding a bit less nervous now that they kind of had a basic plan. He still didn't think much of his chances, seeing as this program was far more advanced than whatever he was supposed to be taking, but at least they weren't going into this blind. He wasn't quite sure what Mark meant by enemies. Dodging obstacles and hitting targets was all fine and dandy, but somehow Will didn't like the sound of enemies. Was Mr. Lang trying to pick off the weaklings with some sort of gladiator-style fight to the death or something? Will wasn't sure he could handle that. He was good at staying out of the way and dodging things, but if he got into a fight he'd be down in 2 seconds flat. His powers weren't really geared towards combat.</s>
<\|description\|>Ben Poole Age: 18 Appearance: Civvie and Spiderman Beyond Years in the Academy: Six months Ancestors: Gwenpool (Mother) Powers/Abilities: He lacks any super powers, due to his mom not having powers of her own. However, when he inherited the title of Spiderman from Miles, he also inherited his web shooters, plus modifications to the suit to allow for web crawling (via super adhesive gloves) and a built in vibrator inside the mask that activates when danger is near to simulate Spider Sense. The suit can also allow him to camouflage. Bio: When Ben Poole was born, his mother had high hopes for him to be a super hero. So much hopes in fact, that she hired a professional, Wade Wilson, to set up a situation where Gwen is seemingly killed so that it could overwhelm Ben with so much duress that he'd become a superhero. It worked… but it traumatized Ben so much that he ran away from the alleyway that his mom "died" in and never looked back. However, he bumped into Miles Morales as Ultimate Spiderman, who was in the middle of apprehending a criminal. At the time, Miles had been considering retiring, since, even though he started his career as a teen, still felt the age that most other heroes went through. After hearing of what happened to his mother, Miles, being convinced that he needs to pass the torch, decided to teach Ben Poole how to be a hero. When it came time to pass the torch, Miles and Ben modified the suit to benefit Ben's lack of any spider powers. It took about a week of crime fighting before he got the eye of Tony Stark. After failing to stop a robber, Ben was approached by Tony Stark to master his craft of super heroing. And thus, Spiderman Beyond was born. Family/Relationships?: Miles Morales is a father figure to Ben and his mentor. Miles' relation to Ben's mother was… strained... Miles, however, taught Ben in the ways of being a hero in the hopes that he doesn't get as crazy as his mom. Weapons: The only weapon Ben has is that his gloves also have venomous stingers attached to them to simulate poisonous bites. Personality: Ben is timid and shy, only being assertive when he's in the Spiderman Beyond outfit. That said, he does have a lust for revenge that he kept hidden from Miles. This lust for revenge sometimes causes him to be more than assertive and act headstrong. Other: Has no idea his mom is still alive.</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Richie" Parker Richard jumped down from the drone and high fived Ben. He couldn't leave him hanging. Spider pun not intended. He followed the others to the Hall of Heroes and looked around. No matter how many times he entered this building he was always fascinated. It was like each time he entered he noticed and took in something new. It seemed that others were already here when they arrived. Including Vix. The start of their friendship wa a crazy one. You wouldn't even think they'd become friends after that. She didn't seem to notice him at first and before he could get her attention Scott Lang came on the scene. Or Mr. Lang. By the way he interrupted James, Richard figured that he was probably upset if even just mildly so. When he asked if they enjoyed the show and what happened Richie just shook his head. "I was actually late to the whole thing." Though considering how lax the school seemed with weapons and technology out in the open on campus he was surprised that there weren't accidents more frequently. Dealing with a few accidents a day every day would actually be some good training. Maybe he should try and set that up. Get the more accident prone students to do what they do best. Soon the young wall crawler was lost in thought. He soon remembered where he was and noticed Vix waving at him. He smiled and waved back. This was already getting boring fast. He walked over to Mr. Lang and wrapped his arm around him like they were old pals. "No one got hurt. Well, no one except for James over there and he... you know. You must've asked them here for more than just asking what happened, right? Come on. Get to the good stuff."</s> <\|message\|>Alex Kinney Alex watched the group when Scott Lang showed up talking about some 'incident' that happened mere moments ago. He listened for a bit then inserted himself in the conversation, "Come on Mr. Lang. We all know the school has state-of-the-art tech. Is there any real reason to ask these guys when you can just watch some footage. It's the first day. Someone probably just got to anxious or nervous working on some sort of project then lost focus. As long as no one got hurt there is no reason to hold up class. So, please sir." In truth if it hadn't been for the fact that this would hold up his day Alex probably wouldn't have said anything. He looked around at the small group gathered around. A few faces he knew a few he didn't. Alex wasn't the most sociable guy around so most had no clue he even existed unless they were apart of the Next Avengers Program where he was one of the best fighters. He also offered his skills as a sparing partner to anyone who needed it due to his powers. Not many took up the offer though since not many people even know of this offer. Either way he was most likely going to know these people very well soon if he didn't already.</s> <\|message\|>Mark Westbrook Mark took stock of the situation as everyone else made sure no one was hurt. Not being much of a people person, he focused himself on making sure no dangerous compounds were released by the rocket. Mark felt an odd itching sensation in his eyes as Euclid took over his optical senses. After a cursory scan, he was certain there weren't any harmful compounds released by the rocket. Return Euclid to its inactive state, he noticed Mr. Lang had sent a security drone to collect them. Great. His first day back and there was already problems. Not one to engage in conversation, he kept quiet as he made his way to the Hall of Heroes. Mark noticed a number of other students he recognized from the Next Avengers Program also making their way to the Hall. Keeping to the rear, he followed them all in to meet with Mr. Lang. As everyone answered his questions, Mark kept quiet in the back. They could all sum up what happened. He figured he'd just wait until it was time for class.</s> <\|message\|>James Victor Rogers Everyone had a say on what happened in the cafeteria, and the more everyone spoke the more Lang seemed to be a bit irritated. James was wondering what he was getting at, and why exactly he was asking. Like everyone said, it was caught on cameras all over the place. phones, security cameras, drones on the scene... Before James could get his explanation, he interrupted everyone. "Yes, yes, I get it, a ton of cameras, no one was hurt, that's fine and all, but that's not what I'm asking. A floating screen flew into the room, showing the the "highlights" of the whole situation this morning. "Like Mr. Parker said, I'm not an idiot who doesn't know how to look online to the top trending youtube video this morning. Uncoordination, reckless leaps of faith, waiting to join in until absolutely necessary! What kind of team works like that? Rogers, I'm guessing you were praying for someone to grab that rocket before it blew up on the ceiling and killed a ton of students? Miss Rhodes, jumping on to the damn thing could have triggered something in the already malfunctioning rocket! and Poole just stood there watching the thing! The only real good thing you remembered was listening to the grandson of Steve Rogers, and working together to stop the debris... So, I ask again. What happened?" "With all due respect, sir, Grandpa Rogers told me stories of how the founding members couldn't seem to cooperate well at first... We're still trying our best. Mark took the initiative after I swatted the rocket away... Nao, Charlotte, and everyone worked together to keep any other students from getting hurt or involved because we are still trying to figure ourselves out and everyone else. We'll do better next time." James' fist was clenched the whole time. He knew Scott Lang knew what he was talking about, but yelling at everyone for being in a school to learn how to use their powers because they didn't cooperate was a bit unfair. "Very poetic, James... Just like your granddad. I don't need the speech. You are all... well, almost all he glanced at Will "are the next generation to take the mantle of heroes. We can't let miscommunication be the reason the world ends... You did well, but you need to do better! Any Questions?"</s> <\|message\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes So it was a chewing out. That little step that Charlotte had taken was immediately undone as Lang went off. Yes, James should have started the action and called in some people to direct it out first. However, it was when the man mentioned Charlotte that she looked down. They were in the advanced training program, yeah, but they were still learning the rights and wrongs of how to act. All of that was a learned experience, if Charlotte's grandfather had told her anything about rising to be a hero. It was bad judgement on her part. She wasn't the most capable to handle redirecting a rocket, and she also made a bad call on summoning only her arms first. She should have summoned the entire suit and tried to take a scan of it first. That would have let them know if it was dangerous or not. However, she was a little mad that Lang didn't even mention how she took a stand too, to help formulate a plan with James. Listen to the grandson of Steve Rogers. Lang couldn't even call James by his own name the first time around. It was the little things like that which kept her from calling him Mister Lang. She was almost going to let her smart ass ask a question, but she knew it wouldn't have earned her, or the group as a whole, any points. If she would have said something, it would have twisted Lang's words around to make them seem a bit more pep-talk-y. James making the safe call of allowing someone more qualified to stop a missile take the first step? Herself redirecting the missile as best she could with her own thrusters? Poole unsure of his own ability, so stepping back unless they really needed him? From what she heard, Lang used to be a smartaleck back in the day, so he could probably out-quip her, and most of the people in the room, military background or not. "So... What's the penalty? Or does the pep-talk part negate the chewing-out part of this little gathering?" Of course she couldn't not say anything.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will said nothing, mostly just waiting for an opportunity to leave. He had a lot of places he'd rather be than here, namely the bathroom, but after that he wanted to have a chance to unpack his stuff before class. The ten year old silently edged his way to the back of the small group of students, anxiously chewing on the end of his jacket sleeve. His other hand twirled strands of his dark brown hair, his gaze cast on the ground although he was still technically paying attention. He didn't have a lot to do with the situation with the rocket, other than almost being its victim, so he wasn't quite sure why he had to be here.</s> <\|message\|>Vix Vix listened to what was said. So it was the lack of teamwork and civilian evacuation what bothered mr. Lang. She could understand the why he was angry about it... One mistake and someone may have died only because no one lead the people out of the breakfast hall for example. Or called back up to clear up the range from bystanders where they wanted the rocket to explode. Or someone powers didnt work and they failed when they were relied on to save the same civilians... She stopped that train of thinking, refocusing. She could help with simulation of situations to improve upon weaknesses of strategy, powers and abilities, but she only could give that to the people she knew how they fought. Had recorded enough useful data about them. She didnt know anyone in this room how they fought at that level. Minus two people Alexs with which she was paired up often in combat class, and Richard on a few occasions she spared with. As James commented and the professor responded to him she decided against pointing out that the first Avengers only came together as a group after someone died, at least that what the files she was given by her mother and grandfather read. And even then it wasnt always the perfect example of teamwork. The school idea was to teach them not to have same mistakes. To fix it. Vix raised her hand just after Charlotte spoke. "How about instead of punishment, we increases the number of team building lessons, communications and trust exercises? As those are the lacking fields. And another question, when exactly is the start of today classes?" According to her information it should have started a few minutes earlier, but then again they didnt and here Mr. Lang was pointing out the mistakes of the most recent accident. She wanted to know if they were pushed back, and if the classes were delayed she would so log into the game and farm vampire sea eagle drops for potions. She really felt like doing it.</s>	<\|message\|>Ben Poole Being called out on his inactivity caused Ben to shy away, back to his timid self. He stayed quiet throughout the lecture, not once piping up. He never once considered being part of a team before. Perhaps that was why he was sitting back. He knew that the team would handle things... but if he was another cog in their team... Ben pondered this as Vix suggested increasing the lessons in team work. Ben piped in. "Yeah. If we're meant to be a team, perhaps it'd be better if we learned how. Remember, I've been going solo for the first little while until I enrolled here." Ben got back to a bit of a cocky attitude, but not enough in the hopes of not pissing off Scott.</s>
<\|description\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes Age: 18 Appearance: Years in the Academy: fourth Ancestors: James Rhodes, Grandfather (War Machine) Powers/Abilities: While Charlotte lacks anything that would qualify as a power, she is rather well versed in mechanical engineering, and has a knack for aviation. The Peace Walker suit is equipped with the Stark Standard hand repulors, unibeam projector, propulsion system, and handy knick-knacks, as well as an additional jump jet system for added mobility both in chase and in combat, heavier, modular armor, and a collapsible laser rifle that can be stored on the suit when not in use. The suit computer system, COR, is always ready to help Charlotte when she needs it. Bio: Doesn't have to be long. How'd you get your powers? Anything important happen in your character's life? Family/Relationships?: Lilly Rhodes, Ne McCoy, her mother and daughter in law to James, was also a rather high ranking member of the Marine Corps, and met her husband in boot camp. She supports her daughter whenever possible, but isn't afraid Charlotte when she's worried for their safety. Terrence Rhodes Jr. James' son who continued in the line of joining the Military. When Stark started the Avengers Academy, he knew that his daughter would have chosen that over just flying planes, and talked to his father and "Uncle Tony" to start working on a suit that might fit Charlotte one day. James Rhodes can be considered that cool grandfather who spoils his granddaughter whenever they meet. He'll always go above and beyond for his family, and has taken every precautionary measure to make sure she grows up right and safe. Annabelle Boltagon - A friend of four years, Charlotte has known Anna since she arrived at the academy. The two are study partners as well, and can get away with teasing or joking about one another without any real worry. Weapons: Chargeable Energy Rifle - a part of the Peace Walker suit, is powered by the Arc Reactor on the suit, and requires charge in order to be of any use. Personality: A stand-up girl in a military family, Charlotte has an interesting set of opinions that could really only be formed by traveling the world like she did. She normally has something to say about something, even if she won't say it out loud. Not everyone is a marine, and not everyone can handle her thoughts or rather crude humor. Though, don't let that fool you. Behind those words is what one would call an absolute nerd. With a library inside her head, she knows a lot about a lot of things, most of that information not as useful as one might think. Who needs to know the exact date of when Space Jame premiered in theaters? Who knows? But she knows it. Other: Charlotte is a big fan of old-school anime, and shares Tony's love for classic rock.</s> <\|message\|>Vix [Location: Hall of Heroes] Vix turned her head towards the female voice she recognized. "Hey, Vix, ready for another semester?" Annabelle Boltagon her memory informed her, as well as pulling the information of the several classes they shared last year. Her own relationship with the inhuman was mostly neutral. Vix maintained her smile, if there were to share the classes in Next avengers program it would do to increase their closeness. "All preparation needed have been completed. How about you? Excited about the new year?" Vix asked her, her hands crossing over her chest as she leaned against the wall. She was dressed in a strap black tank top and fitting black pants. She wore those clothing articles most of the time, even during winter, but in the rainy and snowy days she would put on a jacket if only she would not pull too much attention on her. SHe could say she preferred them as they were practical. Plus she favorite the look it gave to her. In the background of Vix mind a algoritam binged. Something of interest was happening in the cafeteria. If the several tweets and the footage a brave or stupid soul was streaming while hiding behind a table. She knew she would be with Roger in class this year, and seeing Annabelle being her classmate as well Vix decided it was a perfect bonding opportunity. "Hey Annabelle." Vix eyes became whiter as she turned her head towards a wall. "James Roger is being a hero, wanna see?" The projection started, the angle wasnt the best but they could see the famous student with his shield out. And two other student holding in place something that looked like a rocket. Beside the footage a several tweets scrolled down commenting with various hashtags. #JRSavesday #NormalSchoolDay #RocketBreakfast Vix was trying to put names to all the faces, but she lacked files and didnt felt like hacking to obtain the information. Instead she saw a girl jump a armor assembling around her as she rode the rocket. "I think that girl, is confusing the situations with bull riding. What do you think? The magic user looks cute." Vix commented idly, wondering if Roger would solve the situation or if more people would jump into the mess with no coordination or plan whatsoever. Juice</s> <\|message\|>James Victor Rogers James watched the rocket fly upwards in the air, and then back down towards a group of people. He was about to run after it until a student in a suit caught it with some wires, holding on to the rocket as it tried its best to shake free. He knew who the kid was. Mark had been in the Advanced Training Program with him last year, and although he was a quiet, he was passionate on his projects and helping people. Then a new anchor appeared almost out of nowhere, with a large voice of annoyance. James shifted his gaze towards Nao. Nao was a mystery to James still. He knew that Mr. Stark wouldn't bring anyone with ill intentions to the academy, but the style of magic Nao used made James uneasy, and hard to fully trust. James looked back at the young boy who he had protected earlier. "You alright?" James asked him sincerely, noticing his shaking and paleness. He had never seen this person before, but something told him that although he was young, he had a lot to show everyone. "Everything's alright. We got this under control--" A blur ran by the two, and it only took a second to realize that Charlotte Rhodes ran through the crowd and attached herself to the rocket. James frowned when she said that it was going to blow. He wasn't much of a mechanical guy, but he would take her word for it. "Charlotte! Find its circuit board or whatever controls it, and aim it towards the door! Mark, Nao, when I say, let go, and she'll do her best to control it outside! Once outside, rip the circuits out, and let go! Anyone willing and able, once the thing explodes make sure no debris hits anyone!" James rushed through the crowd that was now either evacuating or trying to help. He once again raised his shield, but at the end of it a dark red energy force came to life. Not only was the shield made of a vibranium-steel alloy, this one had the ability to slice through almost anything like butter... And it split in two He didn't know what was in this rocket, if it really could explode, or if it was just something a kid made for a prank, but he wasn't going to find any of that stuff out the hard way. He split his shield in two, swinging the blade towards the door frame that held the two doors together, and then with one big kick, sent the piece of metal flying. Putting the two pieces back together, James stood in a defensive position just outside the now large opening. "Alright... Go!" as soon as the two let go the rocket and Charlotte came hurdling towards the door. Aiming his shield yet again, the rocket made contact with his shield with a Ting! and shooting it more upwards. He prayed that Charlotte had time to do what she had to, and soon enough she let go of the rocket. James didn't know if the parts that were coming towards Charlotte would allow flight just yet, but he had his hopes, but she was too close to the thing to get out of there safely! "Catch!" James yelled to her, throwing his shield as a disk towards her. The explosions wasn't the biggest thing, but it was impressive as hundreds of metal scraps erupted everywhere. The rocket was small enough to only produce debris as large as tennis balls, but they would still injure and hurt a lot. A piece of metal made contact with Jame's cheek, and he gasped in pain and shock as he turned and crouched with his back away from the explosion. Once he thought it was safe he stood and looked around. He could feel the large amounts of cuts and scrapes that made contact with his back, and cheek, but he knew that they were already healing... A crowd was already here to start with cleanup, and the Academy security burst into action, scanning the area for any serious injuries. Hopefully there wouldn't be. What a way to start the semester.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will nodded, still not really sure what was going on. It all happened so fast, and he hadn't really processed it. It was clear that he had a long way to go to being one of the Next Avengers. Actually, he had no idea why they put a kid like him in the program. Sure, he had superhuman powers, but he couldn't be a hero... or at least he thought he couldn't. "Uh... I'm okay, thanks." He said, hiding his uncertainty behind a convincing forced smile. He took a step back, his hands in the pockets of his gray jacket. He bit into the inside of his cheek, trying to keep himself from asking the questions he wanted to ask, like what the hell just happened? He squirmed slightly in discomfort, realizing he still had to find a bathroom quick. Problem was, he didn't know his way around the campus at all. And there was no way in hell he was going to ask for help. "Well, thanks for saving me." He said, turning on his heel and starting to wlak out of the cafeteria.</s>	<\|message\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes Charlotte may have exaggerated about the rocket being explosive, but there was no way to tell without opening it up. She didn't exactly have the time to piece it apart and see what kind of hardware it was packing, but she was going to assume the worst of it and refused to take chances on the people here. "COR, get the rest of the suit!" She commanded rather loudly. The repulsors on her hands were already primed and ready, the elbow thrusters and shoulder thrusters were keeping her steady. However, the rocket had launched forward, with the star spangled spartan taking charge and initiative. She knew the plan, and she hoped to god that the rest of her suit would be arriving before her body met the pavement in a pretty serious way. It took all of her strength to hold onto the rocket to guide it, but somehow they were able to pull it off. Still, her suit wasn't here, but Charlotte was keeping count and taking breaths. Both she and the rocket were taken outside, almost hitting so many walls as they went around, but Charlotte was being super extra careful to not make it explode. Once outside, she aimed the thruster down to the ground, shooting both herself and the rocket up. She could hear the rest of her armor flying in, and once she was sure it was going straight up, she let go of the rocket and let herself fall to the ground. Her armor swallowed her whole, right in the middle of the air. Before she had much time to register much else, there James was again, calling out to her. "Catch!" Part of his shield had flown up into her arms. She caught it with a bit of force, and swung it around to protect herself from the falling debris of the rocket, not that her armor wasn't protecting her anyway. One arm held onto the shield, the other, repulsor ready, had moved up and started to fire at as much debris as she could. The suit itself locked onto as many falling pieces as it could, and helped Charlotte fire away, hopefully keeping people from getting hit. She hovered down soon after, hitting the ground as softly as a suit of armor could. She had to admit, though. Her rifle in one hand, a shield in another, it wasn't a bad tactic that she could suggest to James later on. If he could split his shield like that more often, they could all get to working off of one another and keeping sharp. "I think this is yours?" Though it wasn't seen, Charlotte smiled at James, tossing his shield back to him. She wondered who had started the rocket in the first place. The academy was no stranger to strangeness, but this was a little much to secure everyone's first day jitters.</s>
<\|description\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes Age: 18 Appearance: Years in the Academy: fourth Ancestors: James Rhodes, Grandfather (War Machine) Powers/Abilities: While Charlotte lacks anything that would qualify as a power, she is rather well versed in mechanical engineering, and has a knack for aviation. The Peace Walker suit is equipped with the Stark Standard hand repulors, unibeam projector, propulsion system, and handy knick-knacks, as well as an additional jump jet system for added mobility both in chase and in combat, heavier, modular armor, and a collapsible laser rifle that can be stored on the suit when not in use. The suit computer system, COR, is always ready to help Charlotte when she needs it. Bio: Doesn't have to be long. How'd you get your powers? Anything important happen in your character's life? Family/Relationships?: Lilly Rhodes, Ne McCoy, her mother and daughter in law to James, was also a rather high ranking member of the Marine Corps, and met her husband in boot camp. She supports her daughter whenever possible, but isn't afraid Charlotte when she's worried for their safety. Terrence Rhodes Jr. James' son who continued in the line of joining the Military. When Stark started the Avengers Academy, he knew that his daughter would have chosen that over just flying planes, and talked to his father and "Uncle Tony" to start working on a suit that might fit Charlotte one day. James Rhodes can be considered that cool grandfather who spoils his granddaughter whenever they meet. He'll always go above and beyond for his family, and has taken every precautionary measure to make sure she grows up right and safe. Annabelle Boltagon - A friend of four years, Charlotte has known Anna since she arrived at the academy. The two are study partners as well, and can get away with teasing or joking about one another without any real worry. Weapons: Chargeable Energy Rifle - a part of the Peace Walker suit, is powered by the Arc Reactor on the suit, and requires charge in order to be of any use. Personality: A stand-up girl in a military family, Charlotte has an interesting set of opinions that could really only be formed by traveling the world like she did. She normally has something to say about something, even if she won't say it out loud. Not everyone is a marine, and not everyone can handle her thoughts or rather crude humor. Though, don't let that fool you. Behind those words is what one would call an absolute nerd. With a library inside her head, she knows a lot about a lot of things, most of that information not as useful as one might think. Who needs to know the exact date of when Space Jame premiered in theaters? Who knows? But she knows it. Other: Charlotte is a big fan of old-school anime, and shares Tony's love for classic rock.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will looked surprised. He wasn't really used to being approached in a friendly manner, especially by older kids. Back at the orphanage, older kids just picked on Will. He listened carefully to the boy, nodding thoughtfully. "I'm Will. Nice to meet you, James. And, uh, sure. I'll join you guys." Said Will, trying his best not to seem nervous. He forced a smile, holding out his hand and wondering if James would take it. He was doing his best to keep still, but it was a bit difficult. He hoped that the tower would have a bathroom... He was still kind of getting used to this school. It looked as though there weren't a lot of kids his age here. Most of them seemed much older, maybe in the 15 to 18 range. he was only 10 himself, and frankly it was a little intimidating. He was still really new to his abilities, and wasn't really sure why he was being advanced so quickly. Maybe his powers would be really useful once he'd trained them, but for now he didn't really seem like he fit in.</s> <\|message\|>Alex Kinney Alex slowly sat up in his bed to his phone ringing. He reached over to his practically bare bedside table to grab his phone. He answered the phone saying, "Hey, mom." Her response was what most overprotective mothers would say. "I've only been back for a day. How could I already get in trouble?" Alex talked with his mom slowly reassuring her that it was safe. Once they said goodbye Alex looked around his room. It was basically empty except for his bed, table, desk, chair, and all the stuff in his closet. He took his sweet time getting ready for the day. By the time he was done the majority of people on campus would be done with breakfast. Alex was dressed in normal sweatpants, a workout shirt with the Avengers logo in the top left corner, and his signature leather jacket with the detachable hood. He picked up his sheathed Ninjato attaching it to his belt then he stuck his bo staff into its side pocket. He then left for the Hall of Heroes for the beginning of the day. Despite his Hyper Speed, Alex chose to just walk there and took his sweet time. When he finally got there he saw the small time heroes of the day and the small kid who had been saved. Alex had no idea what had occurred earlier this morning but it was practically a certainty that he would later find out. For now he just stared at the group mostly looking at James. It felt awfully strange to Alex having to be near this guy but no one would ever hear him voice that opinion.</s> <\|message\|>Ben Poole "Oh boy... Here we go." Ben said as the group was told to report to the Hall of Heroes. If there's one thing he didn't like, it was getting an earful from the teachers, especially in regards to something he had little to no involvement in. Just then, a familiar person popped by and expressed interest in following. "Richie! My man! What's up?" Ben raised his hand up high. He then noticed he mentioned not wanting to miss the moment. "Well, if you're goin', guess I am too." Ben said.</s> <\|message\|>James Victor Rogers James smiled as Will accepted the offer. It was interesting to see such a young kid here at the Academy, but to be fair, James enlisted when he was 12, so who was he to say? He didn't know what Will could do or what he was thinking, but he wasn't just going to leave him traumatized after seeing an almost death experience in a place he thought would be safe. He took the young boy's hand. "This your first year?" As they all walked to the tower, James tried his best to give Will the unofficial tour of the place, pointing at things, and at people who were descendants of famous heroes. The Hall of Heroes was the most impressive building in the Academy. The first floor was a bit like a museum, displaying all the heroes who have come and gone into the Avengers, but in the center of the room were the costumes and information of the founding members of the Avengers so long ago. Captain America, Thor, Iron-Man, Ant-man, Hulk, and Wasp... It always sent chills down James' spine whenever he walked into this room. They were their legacy. One day their suits will be in here with the likes of Spider-Man, Falcon, and so many more. He saw that Vix and Annabelle were already here, and soon everyone else followed suit. James looked down at Will to see his expression on his face. He didn't know if his parents were in this collection, or if he was impressed at all, but something told him that Will was going to make it here some day... James caught movement from the corner of his eye. He turned to see that Alex Kinney made an appearance. It was always a weird feeling whenever the two were in the same room... His mother was cloned from Grandpa Logan's genes, which means that they were technically related. He remembered the conversation Grandpa Logan had with him when Alex first came to the academy. He had been through a lot as a kid, and that James had to keep an eye on him so nothing bad happens. He didn't specifically knew what that meant at the time, but from the small conversations that they had, he knew not to pry too much into it. Maybe one day they'll talk about this kind of stuff... He was about to go talk to Alex until the elevator in the corner of the room opened, and out came an older man, with graying brown hair, with a matching beard, and probably the best poker face in the world. He wore a nice red and blue suit, and his eyes scanned the room. "Mr. Lang--" James started, but the older man simply shook his head. "Everyone enjoy the little breakfast and show this morning? What in blazes happened down there?" The old man demanded, looking at the small group that joined. For all the years James trained under Scott Lang, he could never know if he was angry, or if he was simply asking and wanted to know how the situation went.</s> <\|message\|>Annabelle Boltagon The situation played itself out rather well. The students aptly handled it all and kept everyone safe. Annabelle only hoped things would go as smoothly out in the field, lord knows they would be handling things a lot more dangerous than just bottle rockets. She bit the corner of her thumbs fingernail, a bad habit she had adopted during her first few nervous weeks at the academy. She turned slightly towards Vix as the projection faded. "Problem is, what you prefer doesn't always lead to the one as you put it." She spoke, rather pessimistically. "Anyway, enough of that soppy stuff." She continued, intending to continue speaking but stopped herself as the group from the cafeteria made their way into the hall of heroes. "Looks like stuff is starting, we'd better join the group." She stated rather formally before making her way up to the group and following suit.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will nodded, following as James led him up to the tower. The campus was huge; he had no idea how he was supposed to learn to get around it. A man maybe a little older than Will's foster father Mr. Fleeter. Despite the man's neutral expression, Will could tell that he was probably irritated with them. Will didn't really know himself what was going on, so he remained silent when the man addressed the group. He still urgently needed to pee, and that was about all he could think about. He fidgeted around a bit, as if he were unable to stay still any longer. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, hunching over a bit and chewing on his knuckles. His messy dark brown hair was all over his face by this point, but he didn't reach up to rearrange it. But other than that, he tried his best to keep himself composed. No use drawing attention to himself in this kind of situation. Feeling like he could be more useful to the interrogation, he wracked his memory for exactly what had happened. He was just on his way out of the cafeteria, without having eaten anything, when suddenly James jumped in front of him and deflected a rocket. Some of the older kids took the rocket outside to detonate it, and he himself had followed them out after wandering around a bit looking for a bathroom. Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand before speaking up. "...Someone made a rocket in the caf. I don't think anyone got hurt, though."</s>	<\|message\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes Charlotte considered herself, as well as everyone on campus, lucky that James took more after Steve Rogers than Logan Howlett. James sure knew how to talk to people, something that Charlotte herself wasn't as good at doing. Aside from Annabelle and occasionally bumping heads with Mark, she didn't do a whole lot of socializing. Vix could sort of be considered a second hand friend through Annabelle, but Charlotte could not honestly remember the last conversation that she had with Vix. In any case, the young boy who had been wrapped up in all of this with the rest of them had been brought along to the Hall of Heroes to speak with the one and only Advanced Training Program Instructor. He was a bit hard to deal with, but nothing worse than how she'd seen some drill sergeants treat some Boots. She went willingly along. Every little motion she made loosened the armor from her body until it was ready to peel off, revealing Charlotte again. She tapped the belt buckle, and the suit flew away without a word from COR. Sometimes things just didn't need to be said. Speaking of both Annabelle and Vix, the two had decided to join the group as well. Charlotte waved them both to walk over to her, smiling at them. "Enjoy the first scene of the school year? I didn't really take part in the ones years before." The hall of heroes surrounded her and all of the other students. Her Grandfather, Tony Stark, and many more all lined hall. No matter how many times she walked through, she was surprised that Pepper didn't get a Rescue statue somewhere, or at the very least a not totally selfish plaque by Tony. Then Mister Lang showed up. She could never really tell with Lang, but was pretty sure that the situation wasn't as dire as he was talking about it like. The boy had been the first to answer Lang's question. Apparently his name was Will. A nice name. Charlotte nodded in agreement and took a small step towards Lang. "I had just gotten there when it burst into the cafeteria. A few of us led it outside and took care of it before it could cause major harm."</s>
<\|description\|>Alex Kinney Age: 20 Appearance: Years in the Academy: 7 Ancestors: TaskMaster is his Uncle. X-23(Laura Kinney) is his mother. He does not know his father due to the man dying when he was young; however, this man is the link to TaskMaster. Photographic Reflexes = Alex has the ability of Photographic Reflexes. He wasn't born with this ability but due to his healing factor his uncle, TaskMaster, took him and began testing on him. TaskMaster tested to see if he could implant his own ability within the boy, and it worked. Alex now can copy any physical action that his body could naturally do. However, due to not naturally being born with this ability Alex can 'forget' how to do the move if he doesn't work to ingrain it into his muscle memory. Superhuman Longevity = Just like most with a healing factor Alex also has a superhuman level of longevity. This causes him to just like Wolverine and X-23 from whom he has DNA of to age slower during his young adult years and further on. Regenerative Healing Factor = Alex has a very strong healing factor due to having DNA of Wolverine and X-23. When TaskMaster did tests on the young boy he did something to increase the power at which Alex's body and mind can recover. It has not been attempted, but before TaskMaster escaped he mentioned that he believed that Alex had a better healing factor than Wolverine. Animalistic Instincts = Similar to Wolverine and X-23 Alex has heightened senses in the form of various animals. He has faster reflexes, stronger sense of smell, better eyesight, and an innate sense of incoming danger. Alex has yet to train these senses to their peak potential so as of right now they feel more of a nuisance until he fully understands what he is sensing. Hyper Speed = The only ability that Alex can call his own is his speed. Not quite the levels of those such as Quicksilver, but still faster than the average human if only a few MPH's higher. TaskMaster estimated that if he trained his speed that Alex could quite possibly reach Mach 1, but so far Alex has maxed out at 48 MPH. A side note is that Alex is fairly intelligent. This is primarily because TaskMaster drilled various lessons into the boy's mind. He learned a lot and retain nearly all of it. Bio: At a young age Alex's life began fairly normal. His father died when he was young so he only knew of his mother Laura as his family. At the time he didn't even know her link to Wolverine or about her powers. Once his abilities started to show themselves she told him everything. It was a lot for a seven year old to take in, but it caused him to have a strong desire to help people. Unfortunately, within the next year TaskMaster showed up. Still using the name Tony Masters he told the young Alex that he was the young boys uncle having been the brother of his dead father, the last person that had been living who knew Taskmaster's true identity. When Laura found out TaskMaster had shown up she forbid Alex to interact with him. Unfortunately, there was nothing either could do to stop TaskMaster from following out his plans. The man kidnapped Alex and took him to an old Weapon X facility. There he performed various tests on Alex implanting DNA in him and altering the already preexisting DNA. He taught the boy various things and began attempting to brainwash him. This was very difficult due to the boys healing factor. It took nearly three years, but Laura along with a few other superheroes eventually found the location where TaskMaster had been hiding the boy. TaskMaster had been outside the facility when the heroes showed up and therefore got away. All of this harshly affected the young boy. A close watch was kept on him after he and his mother moved to Xavier's School in order to keep him safe. Eventually Alex got sick of being stuck in the same place and he tried to run away. He was easily caught by Wolverine who came up with a compromise of placing him in the Avengers Academy. Laura was scared to part ways with her son when TaskMaster was still at large, but she realized that he should be safe with the Avengers close by rather than him continuously trying to run away. Alex only agreed as long as they kept his identity as secret as possible which was agreed to. Family/Relationships?: friends and family, romantic interests, etc. optional! Weapons: Since TaskMaster planned on working alongside Alex and rebuilding his crime syndicate he used his leftover connections to get Alex a Vibranium-Adamantium alloy Ninjato and a small collapsible Kendo Stick. Personality: To most Alex appears cold and standoffish, but those who know him well realize he is just a quiet guy. He can seem rude but that is only because he is very direct and rarely lets bias change how he deals with things unless he REALLY dislikes someone like his uncle. He is fiercely loyal and if someone hurts or wrongs someone he cares about he will defend them, but he rarely defends himself. He really wants to help others but doesn't feel as if he will be any real help. Other: Has an overbearing desire for revenge against TaskMaster.</s> <\|message\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes Charlotte considered herself, as well as everyone on campus, lucky that James took more after Steve Rogers than Logan Howlett. James sure knew how to talk to people, something that Charlotte herself wasn't as good at doing. Aside from Annabelle and occasionally bumping heads with Mark, she didn't do a whole lot of socializing. Vix could sort of be considered a second hand friend through Annabelle, but Charlotte could not honestly remember the last conversation that she had with Vix. In any case, the young boy who had been wrapped up in all of this with the rest of them had been brought along to the Hall of Heroes to speak with the one and only Advanced Training Program Instructor. He was a bit hard to deal with, but nothing worse than how she'd seen some drill sergeants treat some Boots. She went willingly along. Every little motion she made loosened the armor from her body until it was ready to peel off, revealing Charlotte again. She tapped the belt buckle, and the suit flew away without a word from COR. Sometimes things just didn't need to be said. Speaking of both Annabelle and Vix, the two had decided to join the group as well. Charlotte waved them both to walk over to her, smiling at them. "Enjoy the first scene of the school year? I didn't really take part in the ones years before." The hall of heroes surrounded her and all of the other students. Her Grandfather, Tony Stark, and many more all lined hall. No matter how many times she walked through, she was surprised that Pepper didn't get a Rescue statue somewhere, or at the very least a not totally selfish plaque by Tony. Then Mister Lang showed up. She could never really tell with Lang, but was pretty sure that the situation wasn't as dire as he was talking about it like. The boy had been the first to answer Lang's question. Apparently his name was Will. A nice name. Charlotte nodded in agreement and took a small step towards Lang. "I had just gotten there when it burst into the cafeteria. A few of us led it outside and took care of it before it could cause major harm."</s> <\|message\|>Vix Vix saw the group of people arrive, her classmates. "As you say." Vix followed Annabelle into the group. mr. Lang was the one who meet them questioning about the scene in the cafeteria. It was not interesting to Vix as she had a recording of the events thanks to someone streaming it. Decided to send it to mr. Lang mail. It included the twitter feed that went along as well as links to threads of some students forums who were making conspiracy theories about the whole thing already. As well including a few words of her own opinion with the most likelihood written in the mail. It didnt have to be the most likely situationm but it was the safest bet. Mr. Lang, Most likely a third year student misfire. In greetings Vix That done, she gave a nod to Charlotte, who she recognized first by the armor. It was the first time they would share the same class. Vix curiosity about her raised. A young boy spoke up first. She looked at him, noticing his strained posture and the slight fidgeting. A second long medical and thermal scans explained it to her. The boy named Will had a urgent biological need. Charlotte decided to speak next, moving the attention away from Will. Vix stepped up beside the boy placing her hand softly on his shoulder to get his attention. She had learned enough tact to lean to the boy with a warm smile and whisper. "The toilets are beside the staircase, just down the hall on the left." She pointed it briefly, before moving away to stand and removing her hand from the youngest member of the group. Looking around she spotted Richard with another spider clad student. She gave him a silent greeting with a wave. After the first mishap that she referred to as The sticky incident that happened in her first weeks of her academy days, they become more friendly. He was a nice conversation partner. Vix concluded that the class for the advance program was a nice one.</s> <\|message\|>Will Fleeter Will blinked in surprise, blushed a bit, then nodded. "Thanks." He said quietly, forcing a small smile. He'd have to wait to leave until the older man was done interrogating them, but at least now he knew where he was going. As it stood, it seemed like some of the older kids had a pretty solid grasp on what had happened. He hoped whoever made the rocket would fess up quick, because he didn't know how much longer he could wait. And publicly humiliating himself was not a good way to start his first day at Avenger Academy. He listened as a tall girl who couldn't have been any younger than 18 spoke up, adding on to his weak explanation of the situation. At least this was going relatively quickly.</s> <\|message\|>Nao Saito Nao groaned inwardly as they walked through the Hall of Heros. He actively avoided this building after his orientation tour. It was a place for legends, those who strode toward the light relentlessly. Nao wasn't like that. He was brought up by the very darkness they swore to fight. He was tainted by it. He felt small in the presence of these legends. During his first year, he nearly left the academy. Between the bullying and ostrigization from the other magical students and the relentless march of remedial classes, Nao felt out of place. He'd missed years of academic and cultural advancement. He discovered music when he was 13. It took him months to acclimate to the idea of cars and even now he couldn't use a computer effectively. He wielded some of the darkest magics in the book and years of training made it almost impossible for his stoic facade to drop. The Hall of Heros served as a reminder of what he wasn't. Two females wandered into the group as the approached the center. His nose twitched as he instinctively felt for their blood. Anyone who regularly practice blood magic developed a sixth sense for blood quality and types since spells were specific and often times you didn't have time to ask questions while stripping the liquid out of another's body. The girl with green skin and tipped ears was obviously inhuman. He didn't need magical senses to tell that. He frowned. The other didn't have a scent to her. Interesting. He shook his head slightly. No, bad Nao. That was an invasion of privacy on the highest level. "Everyone enjoy the little breakfast and show this morning? What in blazes happened down there?" The voice snapped Nao out of his contemplations. Mr. Scott Lang addressed the group. Nao had a hard time getting a feel for the situtation; the man's face betrayed nothing. The young boy stepped forward to explain, followed by Charlotte. They seemed to have covered the basics of the situation, no need for him to get involved. He glanced at his watch and blanched. He'd never skipped class before. A yawn rose unbidden but he managed to stifle it. A sharp pick on his hand reminded him of something. He was still bleeding. He quickly ruffled through his bag, careful not to drip blood inside, and pulled out small band aids. He tipped off each finger.</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Richie" Parker Richard jumped down from the drone and high fived Ben. He couldn't leave him hanging. Spider pun not intended. He followed the others to the Hall of Heroes and looked around. No matter how many times he entered this building he was always fascinated. It was like each time he entered he noticed and took in something new. It seemed that others were already here when they arrived. Including Vix. The start of their friendship wa a crazy one. You wouldn't even think they'd become friends after that. She didn't seem to notice him at first and before he could get her attention Scott Lang came on the scene. Or Mr. Lang. By the way he interrupted James, Richard figured that he was probably upset if even just mildly so. When he asked if they enjoyed the show and what happened Richie just shook his head. "I was actually late to the whole thing." Though considering how lax the school seemed with weapons and technology out in the open on campus he was surprised that there weren't accidents more frequently. Dealing with a few accidents a day every day would actually be some good training. Maybe he should try and set that up. Get the more accident prone students to do what they do best. Soon the young wall crawler was lost in thought. He soon remembered where he was and noticed Vix waving at him. He smiled and waved back. This was already getting boring fast. He walked over to Mr. Lang and wrapped his arm around him like they were old pals. "No one got hurt. Well, no one except for James over there and he... you know. You must've asked them here for more than just asking what happened, right? Come on. Get to the good stuff."</s>	<\|message\|>Alex Kinney Alex watched the group when Scott Lang showed up talking about some 'incident' that happened mere moments ago. He listened for a bit then inserted himself in the conversation, "Come on Mr. Lang. We all know the school has state-of-the-art tech. Is there any real reason to ask these guys when you can just watch some footage. It's the first day. Someone probably just got to anxious or nervous working on some sort of project then lost focus. As long as no one got hurt there is no reason to hold up class. So, please sir." In truth if it hadn't been for the fact that this would hold up his day Alex probably wouldn't have said anything. He looked around at the small group gathered around. A few faces he knew a few he didn't. Alex wasn't the most sociable guy around so most had no clue he even existed unless they were apart of the Next Avengers Program where he was one of the best fighters. He also offered his skills as a sparing partner to anyone who needed it due to his powers. Not many took up the offer though since not many people even know of this offer. Either way he was most likely going to know these people very well soon if he didn't already.</s>
<\|description\|>Alex Kinney Age: 20 Appearance: Years in the Academy: 7 Ancestors: TaskMaster is his Uncle. X-23(Laura Kinney) is his mother. He does not know his father due to the man dying when he was young; however, this man is the link to TaskMaster. Photographic Reflexes = Alex has the ability of Photographic Reflexes. He wasn't born with this ability but due to his healing factor his uncle, TaskMaster, took him and began testing on him. TaskMaster tested to see if he could implant his own ability within the boy, and it worked. Alex now can copy any physical action that his body could naturally do. However, due to not naturally being born with this ability Alex can 'forget' how to do the move if he doesn't work to ingrain it into his muscle memory. Superhuman Longevity = Just like most with a healing factor Alex also has a superhuman level of longevity. This causes him to just like Wolverine and X-23 from whom he has DNA of to age slower during his young adult years and further on. Regenerative Healing Factor = Alex has a very strong healing factor due to having DNA of Wolverine and X-23. When TaskMaster did tests on the young boy he did something to increase the power at which Alex's body and mind can recover. It has not been attempted, but before TaskMaster escaped he mentioned that he believed that Alex had a better healing factor than Wolverine. Animalistic Instincts = Similar to Wolverine and X-23 Alex has heightened senses in the form of various animals. He has faster reflexes, stronger sense of smell, better eyesight, and an innate sense of incoming danger. Alex has yet to train these senses to their peak potential so as of right now they feel more of a nuisance until he fully understands what he is sensing. Hyper Speed = The only ability that Alex can call his own is his speed. Not quite the levels of those such as Quicksilver, but still faster than the average human if only a few MPH's higher. TaskMaster estimated that if he trained his speed that Alex could quite possibly reach Mach 1, but so far Alex has maxed out at 48 MPH. A side note is that Alex is fairly intelligent. This is primarily because TaskMaster drilled various lessons into the boy's mind. He learned a lot and retain nearly all of it. Bio: At a young age Alex's life began fairly normal. His father died when he was young so he only knew of his mother Laura as his family. At the time he didn't even know her link to Wolverine or about her powers. Once his abilities started to show themselves she told him everything. It was a lot for a seven year old to take in, but it caused him to have a strong desire to help people. Unfortunately, within the next year TaskMaster showed up. Still using the name Tony Masters he told the young Alex that he was the young boys uncle having been the brother of his dead father, the last person that had been living who knew Taskmaster's true identity. When Laura found out TaskMaster had shown up she forbid Alex to interact with him. Unfortunately, there was nothing either could do to stop TaskMaster from following out his plans. The man kidnapped Alex and took him to an old Weapon X facility. There he performed various tests on Alex implanting DNA in him and altering the already preexisting DNA. He taught the boy various things and began attempting to brainwash him. This was very difficult due to the boys healing factor. It took nearly three years, but Laura along with a few other superheroes eventually found the location where TaskMaster had been hiding the boy. TaskMaster had been outside the facility when the heroes showed up and therefore got away. All of this harshly affected the young boy. A close watch was kept on him after he and his mother moved to Xavier's School in order to keep him safe. Eventually Alex got sick of being stuck in the same place and he tried to run away. He was easily caught by Wolverine who came up with a compromise of placing him in the Avengers Academy. Laura was scared to part ways with her son when TaskMaster was still at large, but she realized that he should be safe with the Avengers close by rather than him continuously trying to run away. Alex only agreed as long as they kept his identity as secret as possible which was agreed to. Family/Relationships?: friends and family, romantic interests, etc. optional! Weapons: Since TaskMaster planned on working alongside Alex and rebuilding his crime syndicate he used his leftover connections to get Alex a Vibranium-Adamantium alloy Ninjato and a small collapsible Kendo Stick. Personality: To most Alex appears cold and standoffish, but those who know him well realize he is just a quiet guy. He can seem rude but that is only because he is very direct and rarely lets bias change how he deals with things unless he REALLY dislikes someone like his uncle. He is fiercely loyal and if someone hurts or wrongs someone he cares about he will defend them, but he rarely defends himself. He really wants to help others but doesn't feel as if he will be any real help. Other: Has an overbearing desire for revenge against TaskMaster.</s> <\|message\|>Ben Poole Being called out on his inactivity caused Ben to shy away, back to his timid self. He stayed quiet throughout the lecture, not once piping up. He never once considered being part of a team before. Perhaps that was why he was sitting back. He knew that the team would handle things... but if he was another cog in their team... Ben pondered this as Vix suggested increasing the lessons in team work. Ben piped in. "Yeah. If we're meant to be a team, perhaps it'd be better if we learned how. Remember, I've been going solo for the first little while until I enrolled here." Ben got back to a bit of a cocky attitude, but not enough in the hopes of not pissing off Scott.</s> <\|message\|>Richard "Richie" Parker Richard was right and knew it was more than just asking what happened. He was chewing them out and he looked around at the reactions of the others as he did so. He noticed Ben's personal retreat and removed his arm from around Mister Lang. He didn't want to sound cocky but he was sure that if he was there the situation would've gone a lot smoother. He decided to keep that to himself. It wasn't the time to praise himself. Especially when the others were being scolded and in some ways belittled. He listened to Vix and Ben and chiped in after them. "They're right. Put us to the test and let us change your opinion. I suggest we do a simulation right now." Even though he wasn't part of the original situation there was no way he was going to miss out on this. This would've been good for all of them. Especially those that weren't actually in the program yet.</s> <\|message\|>Nao Saito Nao shuffled his feet a little as Mr. Lang went on, flinching at the waiting until the last second comment. Definitely him. It wasn't that he didn't want to help, it was more that he'd never had to be involved before. Really, he thought it would be heroic enough if he could actually pass a math class without extra tutoring this year. Seriously, who thought anyone would actually need the pythagorean theorem outside of a test. Nao nodded as a few of the group suggested simulations. If working together was an issue, better to throw everyone into a situation to work out the kinks. Plus, he'd never had the opportunity to work with people that weren't trying to hurt others. Actually, it's more like he avoided it like the plague. But he had to start somewhere.</s> <\|message\|>Charlotte "Peace Walker" Rhodes "Yes! Yes. Let's all listen to Vix and Richard. Allow us all to heed what they hath said to us." She had just accidentally issued a challenge to Lang by saying what she did, now she just wanted them to move past that and pretend that it never happened in the first place. A little test or simulation wouldn't hurt, but what about the kid? James had just kinda dragged him along with the group full of advanced training students, and she was pretty sure that his pipes were going to burst if he didn't go soon. "Um, Will." She thought that was his name, at least. She wasn't really in the conversation when the boy had told James his name. "This is some pretty heavy stuff coming up. You should probably take a little bit of a break before we start up and get you stuck with us for at least an hour or two." There was no really easy way that she could subtly allude to him that this was his queue to go and find a bathroom. Runners, Marines, it had happened to grown men and women in those kind of situations, and she wasn't going to let that kid have any sort of accidents, as weird as it sounded to even think about.</s> <\|message\|>James Victor Rogers The responses to his question only made Professor Lang laugh and sigh. "Getting lectured on how to teach by a bunch of kids, never thought I'd see the day. Most of you have been training for teamwork for a while now. But you know what? You want me to teach you teamwork? Fine. We're going to split up into groups-- Hold on." Scott stopped and looked at Will, turning his head a bit. "You're the kid who almost got hit by the rocket, right? A new student... Sorry for keeping you here, please don't pee all over the floor, this is an important building..." Professor Lang's face softened a bit. He always had a soft spot for younger kids. In all honesty Lang only came off as harsh because he was training the next people to take up the Avengers. Most of the students here were cocky and thought they could do anything, so he had to give them a reality check. But when it came to new students he was nothing but helpful. "Friday, what's this child's schedule? we need to get him to class before he's late." A female voice echoed through the room in response. "It seems to be that this... is his first class today, Scott. He's Will Fleeter, right? Scott eyed him for a couple moments before slowly nodding. "Must have been a slip up in the database. Never had a first day student join the program... "There's nothing we can do at the moment. Might as well pair him with someone and see what he can do. the female voice responded kinda worriedly. James looked over at the young kid, worried himself. These courses were for people who have gotten a hold of their abilities or know whats in store for them... James prayed that Lang knew what he was doing. "Alright, so we are going to spend the morning going through some teamwork exercises. You're going to partner up and complete an obstacle course. For anyone who's been here before you know these courses are meant to push you and your abilities to the max of your potential. If your partner fails, so do you. No excuses. You will have to work together or we will find of another group project for you to do, understand? Now, time for the teams! Annabelle, I've seen the stink eyes you've given James, and vise versa. The grandchildren of two leaders should be able to work out their differences and pass these courses... I guess the two Web-Heads can pair up, and use genetics and technology to reach an end goal. Vix, Charlotte, pair up, and this time make sure your whole suit is here. Alex, Nao, I'm curious to see how this plays out... and Mister Westbrook, you're going to team up with Will... I hope you like these pairs, because they're final! James nodded and glanced over at Anna. Lang knew that the two weren't too fond of each other when it came to their thinking. James hoped that they could push that aside to get through the course. it wasn't going to be easy. He then glanced over at Alex. He was teamed up with Nao, and although he was sure the two could handle it, James didn't know if things would get out of hand with that combination... And then there was Will. He knew Mark wouldn't let anything happen to him, he was a good person, but he had no idea what Will could do. He didn't look confident, and that was dangerous. "Alright, we're going to use the arenas outside for these trials. It'll give you all room to work with. Time to move out! The obstacle course Arenas were all next to each other, all looking like massive sporting arenas. There was a glass dome above them, and although there was grass in the field to start off, the terrain and lighting changed as soon as the simulation started. You could be on the rooftop of New York, or the jungles of Wakanda, or even old military bases for infiltration. There were even classic style obstacle courses that had no setting, just different shapes and blocks and enemies to move around. It looked like everyone was going at the same time. James was next to Anna, awkwardly thinking about what to say. They didn't hate each other, but there were those moments where they got on each other's nerves, and that seemed to be a lot.</s> <\|message\|>Annabelle Boltagon Anna listened as Lang went on another of his casual tirades. Over the years Anna felt her and the groups respect for Lang change, even the smallest aspect of their relationship with him had shifted. For example, rather than 'Mr Lang' as she used to call him, Anna opted now for the more friendly 'Lang'. She'd never call him Scott though, that just felt weird. Furthermore, Lang had begun to feel more like a father figure and a mentor rather than a teacher, at least to Anna, someone she could confide in. I suppose that came with the job though, after all training what could have been the next Avengers requires a degree of compassion and sympathy. Anna grimaced as the team members were read out. Of course she was paired with, James he was the only one she knew well enough to dislike somewhat. She rubbed the corners of her eyes with her fingers before moving a strand of hair out of her line of sight with a slender green hand. She crossed her arms, turning to face James. "Alright, boy scout an obstacle course should be easy enough for you, if there are a few kittens caught in trees along the way that might be a different story though, so let's just hope that Lang has made this relatively traditional." She teased, attempting to keep spirits up between the two in her own strange way.</s>	<\|message\|>Alex Kinney When Mr. Lang started speaking again Alex felt like an idiot for assuming the same thing as the others around him. However, he did take time to watch the video on the screen. As Mr. Lang listed off the problems that were more obvious Alex thought of ways to fix them and even noticed a few more issues. Then James spoke up with a glorious speech. Alex almost laughed out loud. Not because it was funny what James said, but because they had similar DNA yet couldn't be any different. Alex listened as the others requested that instead of punishment they be put through some sort of teamwork exercise. He had to admit it wasn't the worst idea. If it were up to him the whole group would be shoved into a Danger Room at near the level Wolverine liked to train on. When Lang said they'd be participating in an obstacle course Alex felt a little disappointed. He wanted a real challenge. Alex had done these courses hundreds of times. Guaranteed he'd never done this alongside Nao. That would at least make the exercise a little more interesting than usual. When they got to the locations of the courses Alex turned to Nao and said, "How do you wanna do this. I know whenever I usually do these things they throw some sort of magic at me since it's my weak spot. Got any preference on who leads."</s>
<\|description\|>Annelise Hansen Age: 26 Gender: Female Sexuality: Straight, although she doesn't entirely rule out women if the opportunity arises. Appearance: Annelise is short for her age, about 5 feet, and she weighs no more than 98 lbs. She has light-brown hair and pale green eyes. No major scars or tattoos adorn her pale skin. Personality: A sarcastic, witty comedian at times, but otherwise keeps to herself. She's social at her job, like she has to be, but she much prefers to spend her time solving a complicated puzzle. It shouldn't go without saying that she can be quite the party animal if she's in the mood for it though. Bio: Originally from Denmark, Annelise and her parents migrated over to the states when she was just 5 years old. They settled in Carlsford with minimum struggle as all three members of the family were bilingual, although Annelise still suffered from culture shock due to her young age. Fast forward 8 years later and out of the blue, the young girl learns she's a witch. The discovery was purely accidental after she cut herself with an abalone shell and noticed she could manipulate her blood without touching it. A few more series of tests followed, and it finally sunk in for Annelise that she was indeed a witch. Despite her close relationship with her parents, Annelise never told them about her ability. Currently, the young woman holds a job as a bartender in Blue Sam's, one of the busier bars on Main Street. She's had the job for 5 months ever since going on break from medical school, that which nearly led her to have a full mental breakdown from all the stress she was enduring. While simultaneously drowning in her studies, members of the coven were attempting to convince her to join. Annalise always declined, much preferring the "lone wolf" status so that she could avoid whatever trouble came their way. She had enough on her plate already, and she didn't need more problems. Magical Specialty: Blood manipulation. A rainbow abalone pendant hangs from Annelise's neck, that which she uses to cut herself [or someone else] in order to gain full control of her [or their] blood.</s> <\|message\|>Lars Crow Lars was startled and almost dropped the jar of unpronounceable substance that was in his hand. He let out sigh of relief and put the jar back on the shelf. He looked at the source of his discomfort with a scowl, he had seen this girl around once and a while b ut never spoke to her. "I am trying to kill time, and why would you wanna learn how to ride?" He said as he stared holes into the list in his hand and looked around the rest of the ingredients. The general store was owned by a older witch in the coven who made it so that it could double as a store for magical items and also normal everyday house hold things. She enchanted the store so that only people who could use magic can see the "other" items. Lars continued to look around and slowly put things in his basket, and continued on like this awaiting the girls response.</s> <\|message\|>Silvera Golders "I really don't have anything to do...riding a longboard is better than doing nothing right? So teach me, kill some time." Silvera smiles, a bright, exuberant smile that lights up her features,wonderfully. She picks up some items off of the shelves, examines them and slams them back down on the shelf, skipping up and down the aisle and finally coming back to stop at where the boy is. She grabs his basket and swung it around as she skipped up and down again and came back to a stop in front of him, cheeks flushed a red, eyes shining brightly. She looked beautiful in the moment and she knew that. She smiled again.</s> <\|message\|>Ode Bankhole Her movement was a bit more jumpy than the usual rushed and aching walks. Ode found the delightment of a day's off. The air felt... clear and her gratefulness peaking inside her. Checking into her purse, she understood how the work paid off. "Let this day satisfy me, at least," she whispered with a smile. Her mood did not falter under the diversity of Carlsford. Surely, those with power was sensed my her as well with those with magic defense. Ode also knew of the coven that had been living for a well known time, even paid visit to its greatness. But the coven's presence was too known in the area. Really, someone's "speech" will bring trouble . She shivered at the thought. I guess I should find one before they find me Ode had stopped as she reached a simple park she had grown fond of since she has moved. Trees branches that lay low and the a good view. She climbed up the larger branches and enjoyed how the morning shaped the scene. Though she liked the quiet of alone time, she found its path being a bit dull. I should probably meet other people besides the usual classmates or clients...Possibly, she believe she could pick up a number or two if she tried. Or even better, a hunter. "It's my day off after all." she chuckled to herself.</s> <\|message\|>Roxy Black Roxy kept to the shadows as she stalked her target. The man she was following was accused of being an abuser. Most of the documents that she had found seemed to indicate that the person who had brought him to her attention had been telling her the truth. She wouldn't kill him until she had solid proof though. Rumor wasmy enough. She noticed that someone was following her. She had no idea how he spotted her or why he was following her but it pissed her off. She stormed towards the guy.</s> <\|message\|>Lars Crow Lars was a little taken back by the forwardness of the girl and just stood there with a look of surprise as she went up and down the isle with his basket. Now that he looked at her better she was very pretty, gorgeous even, and she seemed very cheerful. Her mood was clashing with his attempts to stay negative and he was kind of liking the bright sun in front of him. When she stared at him he blushed and scratched the back of his neck and looked away not being able o keep eye contact. "Okay fine. But I need to find the rest of this stuff before we go anywhere." He said as he took the basket back and continued back down the isle.</s> <\|message\|>Silvera Golders "K...So what's your name? I'm Silvera by the way!" She skipped alongside him as he went down the aisle, putting stuff into his basket. Her keen eyes observed all the potion ingredients. A silver moth's wing, the hair of a troll...He was probably planning on making some potion. Her hands lay on top of his though when he was about to put a jar of demon horns into his basket. "I thought they were dangerous. You should be careful." She knew this guy had magic. She could feel it faintly as well as him being able to take all the magical items as well. Demons horns were...let's say she didn't have the best experience with it. It ended in lots of fire and screaming and cursing. She chuckled at the thought. Most fun she'd had in ages though.</s> <\|message\|>Annelise Hansen The following morning after work, Annelise headed down to Main Street to buy her usual breakfast which consisted of a butter croissant with a side of hot chocolate. Whenever she wasn't in the mood to make herself some eggs, which was nearly every morning, she would go down to the busy coffee shop and spend some time down there reading one of her old anatomy books. Just because she couldn't handle medical school at the moment didn't mean the subject intrigued her any less. Annalise hadn't gotten much sleep last night, and dark circles underneath her eyes were a clear indication of that. She wore a simple grey sweater dress and maroon boots, nothing that screamed for attention, and her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail. Since recent rumors about hunters were spreading as of late, Annelise tried her best to fit in as much as possible with the general population. "Miss, what would you like?" the woman behind the counter asked Annelise, distracting her from her daydreams. "Oh, right. just a croissant and a hot chocolate, please." "We're out of croissants for the day, sorry." "Oh..." Annalise was clearly disappointed, but she ordered a hot a chocolate and decided she would simply hold out until lunchtime. After paying for the drink and getting her order, she went back outside to take a scroll before she had to run errands for the day.</s> <\|message\|>Elizabeth Redding "You were looking very ticked off, and you seemed to be searching for someone. I was just wondering who it was and what they did. Maybe I can help you find them." Alex spread his arms open, to show that he didn't mean her any harm. That said, if the reverse wasn't true, he was ready for a fight. It was simply who he was.</s> <\|message\|>Roxy Black Roxy glared at the man. He was either stupid or crazy. Either way she didn't want to deal with him. She was losing an opportunity to take out her target, which just pissed her off more. She pulled one of knives and held it where he could see it. This was usually enough to get people to leave her alone but somehow she had a feeling it wouldn't work with guy but she figure it was worth a try before things got nasty. "I don't need your help. Go away."</s> <\|message\|>Ode Bankhole Ode climbed down from her tree and looked around. One or two people in the crowds could be involved with witch craft and then there was he other few who were looking for them. If she were to sit back and watch closely, she could see the predators stalking the prey. Not that hunters are always predators, she thought. Ode felt a dangerous presence near her. She looked in the direction in where she felt, and saw rough middle aged man. It wasn't his dirty appearance that had caught her attention, it was a demon that would gnaw at him. It was a large demon, one that would rival five of her patients. Ode ran in his direction, and bumped into him. "Ugh," she murmured, shouldn't underestimate his build. "Sorry about that." She said, touching his chest, readying her spell. Ode looked up to the demon, and whispered the chants her parents would make her remember to push it from its host. The man would change expressions, one that would look to kill many to A dumbfounded look. He took a step back "Forgive me, I should'a dodged," he rubbed his neck, uncomfortable. She looked back to the demon who would try to eat at the magical barrier blocking away from his host. It would only be temporary. Ode look back to the man and gave him a lopped smile, "I shouldn't have ran, anyway." She opened her purse and took out a card with her contact info and gave it toe the man. "I'll be going now, contact me, and only me, if you're feeling sick again." Ode walked off, leaving the man confused. "Huh." He looked to the card and back at her, "How'd she know?"</s> <\|message\|>Elizabeth Redding "One of those, eh?" Alex shrugged. He'd seen more than a few hunters who turned their talents to less... savory pursuits when money got tight. It was an unfortunate hazard of the trade. His voice dropped as his fingers started straying towards his gun. "Listen. I've got some problems I need dealt with. Problems that are too big for me to deal with on my own. If you come with me, I can tell you all about them, and can offer a decent check once the job is done." He smiled. "Fair enough?"</s> <\|message\|>Roxy Black Roxy saw the man's hand moving towards his gun. She was less then impressed by the threat. Her knife would reach him before his bullet reach her. She laughed at his proposal. She shook her head. "You are either stupid or crazy. What makes you think I have any interest in your problems. Even if you could afford me which I seriously doubt." She wouldn't take just any job. She was very particular about who she killed.</s> <\|message\|>Ode Bankhole Ode had walked in a daze for awhile. It's odd seeing a creature at large taking over a human. Surely she could find him later as the spell she casted worked as a good tracker. Hopefully he would take the time to call for an appointment or Ode would have to take him by force. She sighed at the thought and looked around, finding herself in the "dirtier" side of the town. "Woah," she murmured as she noticed at a post-battle happening before her. Surely, they do realize there are people around, unless they're desperate. Ode took out her phone and walked up to the two, putting up a barrier around her if things get ugly. "Sorry to intrude!" She cut through. "Put your weopons away, or I will call the police!" She held close to her phone, don't want you to be snatched little one.</s>	<\|message\|>Annelise Hansen "Hey, watch where you're going!" Annelise shouted to the driver of the vehicle that had nearly ran her over as she was crossing the street. She had to react quickly in order to avoid being seriously injured or killed. The driver, none the wiser, waved a half-assed "sorry, my bad" and sped off. But Annelise had already memorized his license plate, A0K69, and to make matters worse for the driver, there weren't many orange cars in town. Not this flashy, at least. She would eventually go to Scott with that information and convince him to help her find the idiot. Annelise was walking at a rather accelerated speed through the park, deciding to take out her phone and use its map to help her find the small mom and pop shop where her mother liked to buy the candles from. She had been dragged out there before many years ago, but she wasn't particularly good with directions. Just as she was able to locate the store, she clumsily walked into someone much more taller than herself. Annelise gasped in surprise, then whispered a quick apology to the man and the young woman by his side who appeared to be his girlfriend. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," Annelise smiled, feeling her cheeks growing warm as she pointed at her cell phone.</s>
<\|description\|>Margaret "Meg" Flinktistein Age: 16 Gender: Female Personality: Beneath innocent grey eyes lies a cunning, smart, and rather blunt girl. She can look at a person and size them up, wondering what weak points they would have and where. But besides that, she's a pretty okay friend, and will often want to join in on pranks on other classmates. Though she is intelligent and makes good grades, she has two things that brings her grades a bit lower than average; laziness and procrastination. She usually sleeps in class when the assignments are being handed out, and at least every teacher at her old schools would yell at her to wake up during class. Despite all the trouble she causes with sleeping in, she seems to always have her projects done and an A or B on every quiz and test. She will either be seen with friends or just reading a book, and occasionally playing with small animals by moving their arms and legs and seeing how they react; it is her way of playing with them. Rarely, you can see her experimenting on things such as electronics, animals, and possibly bombs. During certain times of the year, she will be in a bad mood and become sarcastic and mean the whole time she is interacting with people. She will sass anyone on her nerves, and seems to be a flaming ball of drama queen on that dark day. Background: Meg grew up in a fairly stable household, with a loving mother and a working father. She and her father would look at the stars and point out which planet or star it was: "Star Number 239 seems a bit dimmer than usual; it might die soon." Her mother would try to teach her cooking and the such to prepare her for a husband, but Meg always forgot the ingredients and a smoke bomb would go off in the kitchen. This all suddenly came to an end when they got divorced. It was so sudden, so strange, so… unnatural. Even at a young age, Meg knew her parents still deeply loved each other. But why did they break up? To this very day she still wonders why. Her father began working very late and had less time to spend with her. She concocted a plan to spend time with him by reading his textbooks with him and helping him with projects. He once taught her how to make a bomb. Thinking back to it now, Meg was never suspicious as to why her father was learning about bombs or humans or such. Meg came home one day from middle school to an empty house. No trace was left of her father in that home. He had taken everything he loved and ran away from the memories of the house she stood in. Her grandmother took care of her from then on. Her grandmother, Yesda, was a strict woman, and tried shaping Meg into a fine young lady like her mother and Yesda herself. This failed when Meg learned the ways of procrastination and being lazy, which made her less and less feminine each day. Finally, Yesda gave up and sent her to Kosei, knowing all too well about her granddaughter's Quirk. She said, and I quote, "This place will probably teach her a thing or two about being responsible and becoming a hero like her grandfather." Quirk Info Class: Mutant Name: Supernatural Sight Info: The Quirk of seeing through objects has been passed down from her mother's side of the family since the very beginning. Since her mother had the ability to see through electronics to find out what they were made of and how she would disable them, and her father could see very clearly miles ahead of him no matter what, the two Quirks were mixed and it came out as seeing things far ahead and seeing through objects. She usually use this to her advantage in a fight when fire or smoke is involved, and this is always great when trying to disarm an enemy or disable an electronic. Talents/Other Info: 1. Meg is good at hiding animals in her clothing to play with for later. She plays with them when she is not sleeping in class. 2. Occasionally she will build tiny robots to scare her friends and spy on her acquaintances. 3. Leaving your phone with her is unwise; she'll break it accidentally or forget it in a store or even her room, then sigh and say it's too much trouble to get now. 4. She likes video games fairly well, but doesn't play too often. She gets a ton of inspiration from games that involve robots, cool armor, and guns. She is definitely up for watching some friend of hers play. 5. She likes to draw cartoons of herself and her friends; it fills up her time and keeps her from boredom. She shows the images to her friends and makes extra cash on kids who want a story along with them. Whether the stories are true or not are up to her.</s> <\|message\|>Tula Kealoha Tula Kealoha --- There were numerous excusable reasons why somebody would be late to class. Sick, Injured, unexpected villain situation on the way to school.. but this morning, Tula had the absolute inexcusable excuse as to why she was late. She slept past her alarm. "Ugh I'm late! So very late!" Tula muttered as she scurried across campus after having just arrived. If she was ever going to make her case for being Class Rep, this was definitely not the way to go about it and failure here was not an option. Her parents were both class reps and they were expecting their daughter to be one, too. There would have to be some later political schmoozing on her part with some of her classmates in order to better make her case that she is the candidate to represent them. Tula must have been only a few minutes late by the time she reached the classroom but her heart dropped the moment she peaked inside, not seeing a soul present. Her hand immediately went up and smacked her forehead, sighing in slight frustration. They had already left for the practice field. Her absence was likely noted already. Now, she was definitely playing from behind. There was no time to spare, especially if they were going to start the Quirk assessment test soon. She tossed her bag into the room and kicked off her shoes, wiggling her webbed toes as they got a chance to breath. She turned and closed the door, stretching out in a position like riding an imaginary surf board. Then suddenly, water blasted out from elbows, tibia region, and back propelling her forward as she used a slower release of water under her feet to hydroplane across the ground. The result was she was much faster than if she were to sprint. --- She was quick to catch up with her classmates, adding a stylized flourish when she was close enough to the back of the group by spinning once to a satisfying stop. Her maneuver was so smooth but there was a chance nobody noticed it aside from a nervous looking white-haired kid hovering around the back of the group. In fact, he was likely in the splash zone a bit. "Whew. Just made it. Tula said to herself, but it was meant for the kid to hear. She caught up and walked alongside the kid, leaning slightly next to him, "Hey, don't tell anyone I'm this late. It'll be our little secret, okay?" she whispered with a friendly wink. Tula returned to normal posture, walking alongside the kid for a moment before trying to strike up more of a conversation. "So do you think you are ready for these tests? I already know what to expect so I think I'll do well in all these tests." She sounded confident but darted a quick glance to the kid and remembered her audience. "I'm sure you'll do well, too. I'm Tula, by the way." She'd offer a handshake but usually people didn't appreciate a getting their hand all wet.</s> <\|message\|>Tori Masui The Professor The professor nodded as the students filtered out, before beginning one more time. "The hallmark of every hero is that they know their strengths and weaknesses. Some of us have few weaknesses, some of us have many. However it is important to understand that no matter how many weaknesses you have, if you can overcome more weaknesses than another man even has, then you are a far stronger man than you could ever be." The professor adjusts his tie slightly, before adding "Ladies, I use man in the sense of humans, not in the sense of your heterochromatic brethren." "What we will do next is very simple. The rest of today will be taken up by you students going through a number of simple tests. Where before, you were not allowed to use your quirk, now you can, for indeed the entire raison d'etre for this establishment is to train you in the use of your quirk. For example, Tori, can you please step forward." The girl looked surprised, before doing as the professor said. "Although some of you may not know what it is for various reasons, we are standing in front of a long-jump pit. Tori, what was your highest score when you weren't using your quirk?" The student once again looked surprised, before saying, "I think maybe… 5.3 meters? I was always good at it regardless, but…" The professor cut her off. "Tori, now try taking the long jump again, but you are allowed to use your quirk in any which way you please." Tori grinned and nodded, before taking a run up, her wings flashing out and allowing her to easily glide almost three times the length of the pit with just a few beats of her wings "Of course, not all of you will suit well to these tests! Some of your quirks will not help you, or perhaps even hinder you in your efforts. Over the course of this year, and any subsequent years you stay here, you will measure your improvements in these same tests. The ones that you excel in are irrelevant. The ones that you fail in… Those are the ones that we shall be focusing on." "Now, who would like to go next for the long jump?"</s> <\|message\|>Lazarus Zale Lazarus smirked in excitement, he wondered how Garika quirk would do against his own, "interesting" he said to himself. Soon enough it was time to meet up with the professor for the long jump. Lazarus made his way, meeting a boy who had been waiting excitedly for them. It seemed as though Dante was here as well, conversating with the girl who had wings. The professor explained that we would be able to use our quirk for our exercises and that it was a test to assess our strengths and weaknesses. Lazarus was happy having a wide grin, his powers were more of a jack of all trades. The professor used the falcon girl named Tori as an example for the first exercise, she glided farther than the length of the pit with a couple of flaps. "that's a cool quirk" Lazarus said under his breath. The professor asked who wanted to go next, Lazarus hand shot up first, and walk out to the front of then pit, though Lazarus is a guy who is all fun and games but he wants his presence to be known, he was a ambitious fellow. Lazarus took a couple steps back and inhaled deeply before taking his running start, picking up speed, he took a hard stomp with his left foot before jumping and a rock pillar protruded from the ground under his foot , Lazarus used the thrust from the pillar to propel Himself into the air after which the the rockpillar retracted into the ground. When Lazarus landed he nearly fell but caught himself, he walked back to the group. "My quirk is called Earth Lord, I can control the ground otherwiseknown as, Geokinesis" Lazarus said smirking, he took a spot at the front of the group, clear of view so that he was able to see the capabilities of the others. Thought he doubt anyone was getting score higher than Tori, 15.6 meters was the score to beat for anyone without wings.</s> <\|message\|>Kaito Hamasaki Kaito Kaito quickly introduced himself to both Garin and the girl who waved back at him. "Of course I'm excited! Who wouldn't be?! Nice to meet you both! The name is Kaito!" He smiled back, managing to at least get their introductions out of the way before The Professor began the lecture. As it turned out, he was only half correct about the activity being a physical one, but he never would have expected them to use their quirks early on in the semester. It was just the kind of lesson he was looking forward to, improving his quirk is the reason why he enrolled into this academy after all. After witnessing Tori and Lazarus, he whistled a note like if he was impressed by how Lazarus utilized his quirk. "A bird and a rock man eh? There's a joke somewhere in there! But, still those are some pretty awesome quirks! You should watch me now!" He commented just as he walked by Lazarus with a smile on his face. "Alright! I'm up next! Let's do this!" Kaito felt pretty pumped up at the moment as he quickly went over to his spot and got into running position. His own personal record is 4.9 meters, without including his quirk of course. He had set his eyes to focus on one particular spot near the end of the track, it was time for his quirk to shine! After he ran and took the leap of faith, he instantly teleported at the last second while he was sailing through the air and landed roughly 28.7 meters away from the starting point. Some of the distance got shaved off, but that didn't matter to Kaito, he was extremely satisfied with his new score. "Yes! I beat both of your scores! Let's see the rest of you top that!" He shouted excitedly to his classmates from the opposite end of the track, wishing to spark some competition by raising the bar a little. After he went off to the side, he made his back to the group with his hands folded behind his head and had a cheeky grin on his face. He stood next to Lazarus on his left side, wanting to observe the others as well. "My quirk is called Point to Point! I can teleport anywhere and anything I want, like so!" He stated and appeared on Lazarus' right side now in a blink of an eye, just messing with him in a playful fashion. He purposely provided little information of his quirk not wishing to expose his weaknesses right off the bat, although he was already starting to show it off more than necessary. ---</s>	<\|message\|>Margaret "Meg" Flinktistein Meg nodded her head to Kaito. "Kaito? Call me Meg," she said with a smirk. Man, how excited could he get? Very, apparently. Especially about these physical tests. She shrunk a little as she listened to the professor. Jumping? Oh, God knows she wasn't good at this. She wasn't good at physical things, but she sure could try her best. Would she be the best? Definitely not. She stared in awe at the first girls jump. She had wings? Great, this was going to be harder than she thought; she couldn't top wings. She quickly looked over to Lazarus as he used an earth pillar to help him jump. And then she watched Kaito teleport away form the starting point. Her smirk still stood on her face, but she trembled. Good thing she hadn't unpacked yet. "M-My turn? I-I guess." Meg sighed as she stepped up a few feet from the starting point, her fussy clenched and her eyes determined. She knew she would fail this, but everyone had to fail sometimes, right? That's what she thought. She closed her eyes, then took a breath as she began to run. She hoisted herself into the air with her right foot, feeling the wind rush past her face. She landed with a stomp that shook her all over, but she luckily didn't fall. "Hey! I did it!" She raised her fists into the air in celebration, panting for breath. "I-" She turned around to realize... She was about 1 meter away form the point. She slumped over slightly, sighing to herself. "Great... Screwed that up..." She trudged over to where Kaito and Lazarus were standing, ignoring their excited looks. "...This isn't my forte, as you can see..."</s>
<\|description\|>Ender Kazetani "The inner workings of the human heart is much like the flow of electricity. Given energy, its vibrancy cannot even be challenged by the brightest star. But deprive it of that spurring source, and it ceases to exist." And in this corner, we have the meek yet equally cuddly youth known as Ender Kazetani. And yes, to answer your question, the hair's color is all natural. Boy, did quite a few question marks pop up above his father's head when he saw blue tufts of hair sprouting from that little adorable infantile scalp of his. Now fast forward fourteen years and we are faced with the culmination of his father's efforts and society's education. And, welp, that doesn't exactly amount to much... but who cares! Despite his short stature, the boy walks with full faith in his resolve and lets nothing deter him. His eyes share an almost identical hue with his hair, both of which are unique aspects. Rumor has it that 0's and 1's run vertically down his eyes, but that's probably just people blowing things out of proportion. He's not heavily built, but as a tinkerer, he can put in some elbow grease. Stands at 5'6" and weighs 118 lbs. One eye-catcher is that he always, always, always has his headphones on his person. Even in the shower. Don't ask. Under close inspection, one can see that his fingers are ridden with scars from countless hours at the workbench. --- Age: smol Fourteen Gender: Male --- Personality: With his heart in the present and on a one-way course deadset for the future, Ender takes on the obstructions lying in his path with determination. Denoted by his childish and ebullient personality, upon first meeting people find it hard to believe that he's at the technological vanguard of his generation. Only thing more awe-inspiring is his ability to actually get stuff accomplished due to all of the manga and anime the kid watches. He continually defies fate to no avail and develops a multitude of armaments or ordinary contraptions in his free time, albeit a good portion of them don't always work as mentally envisioned. He has the tendency to weave in manga colloquialism with realistic situations. Steadfast is a word usually attributed to Ender. Although he comes off as carefree, when the plot suddenly thickens and takes a twist, he dons a more serious demeanor. In fact, he keeps within a side of him that heavily contrasts with his usual temperament, but those who catch a glimpse of it seem to forget quite quickly. He holds true to his beliefs and doesn't hesitate to act upon them in a curt and acute fashion. But when it comes to academics, quick wit is where the road pretty much ends... at the edge of a cliff. Ender is nowhere as attentive with his studies as some of his friends, and tends to tinker with projects on his desk rather than listen to a lecture. Since he is constantly connected to electronics, he finds it borderline impossible to do the latter. A defining quirk of Ender's is the manner in which he speaks. He tends to use technological lingo, such as rather than stating that he's tired, he prefers to say "My battery charge is almost out." A couple other fancied phrases are "Ender.exe has stopped working," or "My hard drive has cra- heheheheh that's what he said," and other stuff of the sort. Backstory: The world's a pretty crappy place, eh? Well, for argument's sake, it beats living in the vacuum of space... But it's still a challenge to not look upon the great expanses of city streets, infrastructure, transportation, and the people propagating all of the above with animosity. Yet this is not the case with Ender. It is true that he is one of the many who have been treated indifferently, the loss of a life close to him failed in forcing him to deviate from his sanguine outlook. As a man bound by his job and now also a widower, his father found it hard to be an electrical engineer and a father at the same time. So why not coalesce the two tasks into the same agenda? Brilliant. And that's not sarcasm, it actually was a strike of intelligence. This was the awakening spark, no pun intended. It soon became evident that the boy had a knack for the field, but even more disconcerting, he was not hindered by the absence of a maternal figure in his household. Ender's father held true to the olden ways and techniques of his line of work. Quirkless, he had to find a way to compete with opposing companies vying for profit. Even after it became evident that his son beared a quirk that would indefinitely give him an edge, he did not exploit this revelation. Nor did he force his son onto the job. Ender willingly volunteered to be his father's shadow no matter what task he had taken on, and in turn, the man taught him how to troubleshoot his way through issues without using his Quirk as a crutch. The two were inseparable, with the younger almost as efficient at the profession than the former. But what if Mr. Kazetani and his innocent son were apart during a hectic event? Ender distinguished himself when a power plant was on the verge of going over the point of no return after a brief earthquake. With his quirk, he helped the on-site team remedy the discord within the plant's systems long before TEPCO and local organizations could arrive. Had it been left up to these groups, they would have surely not made it in time. Financial aid was definitely one of the academy's most alluring traits, but given Ender's partial-Mutant side, his Quirk was deemed somewhat volatile. Oh. Aaaaaand he didn't get past the written tests, season finales and whatnot were far more demanding. --- Hero Name: Voltaic Quirk: Galvanic Connection Classification: Emitter with Mutant properties: A quirk that stands out from the rest and is, well, quirky. Ender was born with the capacity to "hear" electronics, more specifically the current of power flow and their inner workings, and discern their specific location among the technological mass society has been engulfed by. Additionally, once an entity is discerned, he can manipulate electrical currents and forcibly move the solid objects they are coursing through. But there are a handful of contingencies and shortcomings to the ability, one being that it lacks an "off" feature. In layman's terms, anything around the boy utilizing any energy is constantly blaring at him. Silence is a delicacy he has never been offered the basic human right to indulge in. Another drawback is that he needs time, albeit not a lot, to concentrate and pinpoint whatever he is attempting to isolate. He can only exert a certain extent of control upon isolated locus, such as turning off lights or other medial tasks of the sort. Now onto his ability to preside over the flow of power through them, and their kinetic movement depending on what they're connected or built into. Wanna turn the light off before heading to be, no need for confrontation on the physical plane! If his remote control is outside of arm's reach, no need to exert any energy to reach for it. The possibilities are endless, yet as expected due to his age, there is a nerf written in bold ink. Moving around electronics drains him of his energy conversely with the size and intricacy of the particular he's trying to control. The most he's tried to do is wiping out a city block, but he was only able to halt the flow of electricity for a few moments before succumbing to fatigue. The crème de la crème of Ender's contraptions that consistently work. Although bludgeoning evil-doers with traffic lights and other provisional items is a plausible strategy, the boy went the extra mile and crafted something that was forged with his own sweat, blood, and love for moe waifus. The Clockwork Cannon. Roughly seven feet in length, two feet wide and two feet tall,if it wasn't for the lightweight metal it was composed on, the aspiring hero would easily be crushed in an attempt to haul it. In addition to its metallic exterior are multiple lines of silver that serve as accentuation, and rows of four gears with a clock in the middle on the twelve, three, six and nine o'clock positions. The analog clocks are contained in a bronze-hued housing, the same color as the gears on both of their sides. The cannon itself fires specialized ammunition that Ender painstakingly crafts himself. Rather than relying on gunpowder to fire the rounded balls of lightweight metal similar to that of the Cannon, the weapon actually uses the concentrated released of electricity in addition to Ender's quirk to propel them. Nice thing is, the projectiles still maintain their charge to give their targets an electrifying meeting. The weapon also suffices for a melee role. Its muzzle can collapse on itself, forming a triangular end that can be used for offensive combat. --- And all the rest: "Lolis, tsunderes, kuuderes, childhood friends. You name them, I've conquered them! In the 2D world... -cries in a corner-" Talents/Hobbies: * Otaku Trash - ...Needless to say he loves his waifus. * Technological Affinity - Not even a Samsung phone, a device more Korean than Girls' Generation eating kimchi next to a portrait of Kim Il Sung, than be pitted against this kid when it comes to electronics. Ender is an active- no, a devout gamer. He has conquered many a waifu throughout his numerous campaigns. He may or may not have not already constructed a master case with a built-in PC and PS4 specifically designated for traveling. Themes: Lyrics</s> <\|message\|>Margaret "Meg" Flinktistein Margaret Flinkstein Meg was barely paying attention to the teacher. She heard rules, then she drifted off to a small kind of dazed sleep. Of course she was tired; she had to come a long way from Yesda's house to here. She needed and loved sleep, and no teacher was going to stop her now. No teacher had ever stopped her before, either. As the Professor exited the classroom, she opened an eye to look around at her surroundings. An obviously embarrassed boy talking to Tori, one of her roommates. A guy getting super pissed about a bat the teacher took away. Mine wasn't doing much; just the same as Meg was doing herself. 'Whatever,' she thought roughly, standing up from her desk with a stretch. 'Yesda said I should at least make some friends.' She scanned the classroom, boredly looking for someone to talk to. After a minute or so, she sat back down with a faint frown. Oh, come on. Who would want to talk to her, anyway? Everyone seemed preoccupied with themselves or making other friends, and Meg hated barging in on conversations. Pulling out a small robot-in-progress, she tediously began to work on it, staring intensely at the object of her interest.</s> <\|message\|>Dante Mathers Dante Mathers Dante was awestruck as Lazarus described his powers. The ability to move the ground? Earth? That was so cool! "Woaaah, your quirk sounds awesome!!" He said as he watched the boy lie down in his bed. Then he began asking questions about his quirk. "Yea they grow back. Only takes about a day or two." He said as he touched his teeth. "And I can bite pretty hard, I haven't tested on too many things. I only really rest on things I wouldn't mind eating" He laughed a little, before covering his mouth again. He lay over the edge of the bed so that he could look at the boy below him. "But the hardest thing I have bitten was a coconut. That was pretty easy though, so I could probably do a lot more." He had finally relaxed when another man entered the room. His presence startled Dante, causing him to almost fall off his bunk. He managed to catch himself before he fell, but the man didn't seem to want to introduce himself. He walked out shortly after as well. "Huh, that was weird" He muttered to himself in English. The bell suddenly rang and Dante jumped a little. He quickly grabbed his stuff before turning to his roommate. "I'm gonna head on ahead, see you in class Lazarus" He said with a wave. He soon arrived to the classroom. After entering, he noticed that there were people of all sorts in his class. He saw one girl that looked like she had scars on her face. There was another that had wings. She seemed to be an animal mutation like he was. He couldn't help but stare at her wings as he walked past. "Wings are so cool" He muttered in English as he walked past her. He quickly took a seat in the classroom, waiting excitedly for their teacher to arrive. All of a sudden a man appeared in the classroom. He appeared to be a teacher, and offered a bow. After a short lecture on rules, it appeared as though they were going to do some kind of outside exercise today. Dante excitedly got up and began following the group. As he was walking he began looking at the other members of his class. There was the guy from before that made a bit of a scene in front of the professor, he scared him. There was the girl with scars, she scared him. In fact, most of these guys scared him. The gravity of the situation finally reached him, he was surrounded by people who were stronger than him. People who could do amazing things while he was going to be left in the dust. But as he was walking he noticed an odd sound. It sounded like music, but everyone had left their devices at the room. He looked around to see that the girl from before, the one with wings, she had a set of headphones around her neck. He suddenly saw an opportunity. He had read that common interests are the best way to form good friendships, and music was his big thing! "H-Hello" He said as he walked quicker to catch up to the girl. "M-My name is Dante. I noticed you were an animal mutation" He smiled nice and wide and pointed to his teeth. "Me too, I got a little shark blood in me" He said with a nervous giggle. There wasn't a lot of people that seemed to be mutations in this class, so he was happy that there was at least one that had a physical change too. That said, he was a little intimidated by the girl. She appeared to have tattoos on her face. Not that he didn't like tattoos, but it was something he hadn't really seen before. But he decided to mention the reason he had walked over. "Oh, I also saw your headphones." He said as he pointed to them. "I-I love music too. What's your favourite kind?" He tried his best to smile without showing too much of his teeth. He figured if anyone knew what that was like, it might be her, but he was still a little weary.</s>	<\|message\|>Ender Kazetani (I did what I could gonna knock out meow) The bus jostled forward after it picked up the remainder of passengers and parted from the stop rejoin the flows of traffic. Among the headcount were generic, borderline identically white collar businessmen and women, newspapers and phones practically glued to their hands displaying how poorly the one yen coin was doing. There were also your average folk, average trade workers, average children... in general, the layout was quite, surprisingly enough, average. Save for one denizen on this voyage for however many stops he needed to traverse. This boy was anything but nondescript. It wasn't that he looked out of the ordinary. In fact, he was a member of the Japanese teenage populace whose hair was somehow naturally different from the norm, kinda like the stuff you only find in manga or with trope-bound anime characters. But this is real life, so genes was obviously to blame here rather than a narrow cerulean palette.</s>
<\|description\|>Tula Kealoha Age: 15 Gender: Female Personality: Due to copious amounts of instruction and oversight by her parents, Tula can be considered a model Hero. She is a natural leader, trying to take charge of a leaderless situation. She is rather noble in her actions and her pursuits, often seeking the apparent good decision in life. Many would describe her to be a bit flavorful, with a colorful optimism that lingers even on the rainiest of days. Not all of Tula's traits are good, however, and being forced into her leadership roles is, perhaps, not the best for her. She isn't too bright and easily distracted with the paramount distraction coming from her being a bit of a hot head. Her nurtured background has given her a sense of privileged and maybe too much so, because she is likely to be stubborn on opinionated things and petty when challenged. Background: Tula was blessed enough in her life to be the only daughter of an upper class duo of foreign Heroes. Thus, her childhood was one that was rather well off, but much was expected of her as she was growing up. Her parents, hailing from Hawaii originally but moved to Japan later in their marriage, had desired Tula to follow their role as leaders of society by being a Hero, regardless of Quirk. Some say the move was due to Tula's parents afraid that their daughter might outshine their legacy a little too much, but that is probably just a silly rumor. Throughout her whole life, she remembers her parents constantly badgering her about trying to model her into a Hero. They were always pushing her to score highly on tests and was pushed continuously to exercise regularly. Thankfully, Tula did have some matter of say in what exercise she wanted to pursue and found dancing to be rather relaxing despite pressured existence. Of course, martial arts was mandatory to be paired along with whatever Tula was doing to better prepare her for her future as a Hero. Why Kosei? Her father was an alumni, while her mother was not. On the verge of Tula's graduation from middle school, the topic of what academy she was going to attend was hotly debated. Eventually her father won after both of them bet Tula's admittance on a sparring duel between the both of them. Father lucked out and got the victory. Quirk Info Name: Water Physiology Class: Mutant Tula's body has completely altered to support a more amphibious lifestyle. She has two respiratory systems, one that allows her to breathe air, and the other that allows her to breathe underwater through gills. Not only that but webbing between her fingers and toes allows her to swim faster while her body has smoothed and her hair altered to offer little or no resistance while in the water. Among the changes, Tula has a whole system dedicated to keeping her body moist while outside the water. Sacs line just underneath her skin that continuously keep water moving to the surface of her skin to avoid drying out. These sacs offer a unique opportunity for offensive maneuvers as they can 'flexed' to propel water out like a firehose. While Tula's Quirk has offered her unique abilities, they can expose her to dangers. The water layer does protect from fire and heat but there is a risk of drying out if she cannot stay hydrated. Similarly, she is a superconductor for electricity and attacks harnessing electricity will have a greater, more devastating effect on her. For Tula to succeed, she would have to end fights sooner if she does not have a ready source of water nearby. Staying hydrated is the key to Tula's endurance as well as avoiding potential hazards like electrical attacks. Talents/Other Info: Due to proper conditioning brought on by rather stricter parents, Tula has training in martial arts as well as dancing. The result is that she has ended up mixing the two and seeks to seamlessly blend the two art forms into a fine craft for her future as a Hero.</s> <\|message\|>Dante Mathers Dante Mathers Dante watched as the professor carried off the injured girl. He was relieved to see that she was going to be okay, it didn't seem like it was too bad an injury, but you couldn't be totally sure. He looked back at the group to see that most of the people had already done their jump, even someone he hadn't seen here before. He took a deep breath started walking to the pitch to run. He looked over the pitch and everything began to twist and turn in front of him doing these types of things by himself was hard enough, but when so many people were watching it was near impossible. He did his best to calm his nerves, and started running as fast as he could. Once he reached the end of the pitch, he jumped as far as he could. "This is it!" He thought to himself. "I think this will be my best jump ever!" He was so distracted by his thoughts, that he forgot about the part where you were supposed to land. His foot hit the ground unexpectedly, causing the rest of him to slam into the sand. After a few moments he sat up and looked around, his cheeks turning bright red. He stood up and dusted himself off, before checking his distance. 1.83 meters. "Well that's not too bad" Dante muttered to himself as he looked around. It seemed as though there were more people in his position than he had originally assumed. Quirks were sometimes pretty situational, so there was a chance that some of them might not even get to show off their powers at all. He hoped that everyone would get a chance to though, he was excited to see the other kinds of interesting quirks the class might have. But there was one test he was looking forward to the most. It was the one test that he knew he could do well in. He suddenly remembered that everyone else in the class had given themselves some kind of introduction. He looked around at the group for a moment before he blushed. He had never liked interacting with one or two people in an uncontrolled environment, let alone a class group like this. And they had just seen him face plant into a bunch of sand, it's not like there was anything he could say to cover that up. He let out a sigh as he resigned to his fate before turning to face the group. "My name is Dante. My quirk isn't good for this kind of test..." He said as he made his way over to the group of people who had already finished the test. He made sure to take a place near the people he had already met, namely Lazarus and the bird girl. They already knew he was a bit of a ball of nerves, so it helped him relax a little. He stood in silence as he waited for anyone who still had to complete the test.</s> <\|message\|>Lazarus Zale Lazarus Lazarus was annoyed at how his score was beaten so quickly, he let out a deep sigh. "Guess that means I have room for improvement" When Kaito returned he stood right beside him explaining his quirk at teleportation and demonstrated by teleporting to the right side of Lazarus. It seemed like a useful quirk to say the least, "You may have beat me this time but lets see if you beat me on the next challenge" Lazarus said with a smirk as he watched Meg go next who got one meter, when she walked back he gave some words of encouragement. "Don't worry about it too much, some tests aren't gonna be suited to our strengths" he said giving a thumbs up. After going Dante came up to compliment their quirks, "Thanks Dante, that wasn't much of a display but you get the idea of my quirk" Next up was Hana who got 3 meters, she seemed pretty happy with her jump too as well. Lazarus had the basic idea that he was was gonna do just above average on each of the tests but never exactly top score. Next up was Electric boy or big baby, he seemed to have blown himself up into the crowd of students and let out a large discharge of electricity. The discharge seemed to have struck a personality change for Garin. Ender saved the class a trip to the nurses office by attracting the arcs of lightning using a small orb. Well except for one who was on the ground, crispy. Soon Garin and Anelli were on a trip to the school infirmary, 'The Professor' taking Anneli and Meg taking Garin. "They should be alright, hopefully" Lazarus said to the group. Next up was a late girl, she took her jump and apparently fell in the sand scoring a 0.3. she seemed pretty bummed out about it hiding her face as she returned to us. "Don't worry about it, this test is to show our weaknesses so that we can improve them" he said to Anna, he hovered his left hand over her back and used his quirk to take the sand off her clothes. It soon formed into a small ball of sand in his hand . "The names Lazarus, I control rocks and such" Lazarus said with a friendly smile. When he was done he let the ball of sand drop onto the ground. Next Ender went scoring a 2 meters, so far Lazarus had the third largest score out of everyone there. Ender walked back dejected, "We got plenty more tests" Lazarus said laughing and rubbing Ender's head messing with his hair. He kinda liked the guy he was always so optimistic and full of life in every action he took. @Jedly@FallenTrinity@Dannyrulx@Sam12435@Skepic@liferusher@Pudding@Animal</s> <\|message\|>Anna de Blois Anna @ineffable@Pirouette@FallenTrinity@Oliver@Pudding@Skepic@pkken@Sam12435@sharksama@Jedly@Animal@cloudystar@RumikoOhara@Dannyrulx One of the students got shocked while someone else was trying to use their powers to make the jump. Anna shocked back at the sight as she held both hands over her mouth in panic. Things like these just happened on these sort of schools like it was normal. Well Anna did kind of expect something like this to happen but already on the first day? Anna had taken her jump and headed back towards the group. As she walked back from her failure of a jump she noticed that a girl was looking at her. Shyly she turned her eyes the other way as she lowered her head down a little. Her body stiffened only knowing that someone was watching her. What if she did something wrong now, she will laugh at her most likely. When she was about to cry the girl spoke up to her stating that it was a good try and that it was only to learn and not for a score. Anna lightly looked up at her from the top of her eyes and gave a small smile. "Y-yea I guess, thank you at least hehe..." Anna laughed a little getting slightly embarrassed by the prais of the girl. Anna walked a bit more and stopped in her tracks. She carnised the skin of her face softly with the tips of her fingers to feel if it wasn't damaged all too bad. There was only some sand but nothing more. Her legs and arms also made it out pretty okay. Anna slowly brushed the sand from her clothes and body as someone walked up to her. He suddenly spoke to her, Anna looked back at him looking quite defensive from the expression on her face. Her hands both got placed in front of her lap where they neatly bundled themselves together. "Yea, I hope I'll do better next time." Anna flashed him a kind smile but from the look in her eyes it was clear she wasn't at all comfortable around the others of the group. As he grew closer Anna pulled her hands up higher and took a few steps back. She had both hands flat pointed at him in defensive position close to her face as her head was turned away with her eyes closed tight. She felt scared he moght have done something to her but after opening her eyes again she grew a little more comfortable. All the sand that was on her body floated just a few centimeters over her body. Surprised she looked at the sand in awe and back at the boy. "Oh sorry, I didn't realise you had a quirk like that hehe. I'm Anna, sorry if I make you feel like a treat. I'm not so good at meeting new people. Thanks for helping me at least." Anna tilted her head a little to the front again looking from the top of her eyes at him again with both her hands joined together in front of her chest. A shy smile appeared on her face again as thanks to his earlier deeds.</s>	<\|message\|>Tula Kealoha Long Jump, huh. It wasn't particularly what she had in mind for Quirk assessment so she wasn't really sure how her water jets would help her here. This also begged the question, does her hydroplaning count as long as she isn't touching the ground? Probably not, she guessed. Besides, that was a better trick to use for a ground speed test, which was even more likely given the current test. Tula planned on taking the test last to gauge where everyone else was and to come up with a plan. Obviously the wing girl would do well here, seemed tough to beat at first. Then that boy teleported. Could teleporting count as a jump? Well if his feet didn't touch… Darn. That looked impossible to beat. A few classmates followed and jumped posting less than impressive results. It didn't even seem like they used their Quirk, unless their Quirk was worthless in this test, which was possible. Up next was another boy, Blitzkrieg as he called himself. He was promising that his Quirk was going to be something volatile and Tula believed him taking a step back. It was better to be safe than sorry in this case. As the boy warmed up, electricity sparked from his hands. Electricity. Oh no. If there was one thing Tula hated, it had to be that. Even a static charge from a regular person was enough to taze her! She didn't like where this was going and since she was hovering around towards the back, she quickly retreated further so she could hide behind a tree dotting the perimeter of the field. Her bad feeling was justified as the boy blew up in a shower of sparks and soared right into the crowd, electricity whipping around dangerously close to hitting a few people before one arc actually got someone. The boy would be fine but that poor girl who got shocked was down for the count. If that had been Tula, she'd be out cold and her heart just may skip a beat or two from that electrical discharge. Note to self: avoid that guy. Following the conclusion of that, the professor was about to carry the injured girl away but a few more still had to take test, Tula included! He must have remembered as he stopped and a few more took the test. They took their tests and it looked like everybody was about to leave. Didn't they remember she still had to take it? Oh. She was late and was sneaky around the back of the class. Wait. WAIT! "Wait!" Tula called out as she darted from behind her cover, figuring it was safe enough with Thunderstorm, or whatever his name was, out of the way. Tula had a running start, webbed wet feet slapping against the pavement and quickly approached the mark to jump. She had no great plan. She was just going to turn on the jets and give it a shot. She leapt up in the air and fanned herself out evenly so that she would be better balanced from the sudden thrust. Once at the peak of her jump, she let several high pressure jets of water from her hands and feet propelling herself forward. It was honestly pretty tough to control and due to a slight shake from her hand, she ended up spinning slowing her momentum forward and just spinning very rapidly in the air. What might have been smart to do is angle her thrust down at an angle somewhat instead of just roughly parallel to the ground as she hit the sand pretty soon after she started spinning. Momentum still pushed her forward even though she landed backwards, now facing her classmates, and ended up falling back onto her rump. Even though that was less than elegant, she checked her distance. 8.43 m Good enough. She gave the class a thumps up and joined the rest of them.</s>
<\|description\|>Auz of Bavaria Epithet: Auz the Undying Age: 462, but only about a youthful 27 in appearance. Height: 5'10" Weight: 150 pounds Race: Human, semi-immortal Weapons and Equipment- Steel cuirass, tassets, greaves, half helm, and gauntlets. The works, you know. 120 cm straight sword steel buckler Two knives, a stiletto with a 7" blade and a gauche dagger with a 12" blade. Appearance- Auz is slender but sturdy man, with a light blonde bowl cut and large, blue eyes rimmed in red, as if he rarely gets good sleep. He has cruel eyebrows and usually wears a leonine expression, that of a man ready to fight to the death at a moment's notice. Over his heart is the tattoo of an ouroboros. Abilities/Skills- Auz is an aggressive, calculating swordsman who employs techniques from the German School of Fencing, as well as irregular moves of his own design. He's highly versatile and creative with his long sword, able to use it in just about any way that can be imagined. Additionally he's skilled with his two knives and at using his buckler as a weapon, and has no qualms about using any part of his body to fight. Physically, he's got a heavy lean towards speed over power. He's frightfully fast, a sort of Bruce Lee among fencers, so to speak. Naturally it's not possible to swing a sword as fast as a fist, but regardless most warriors that encounter Auz for the first time are utterly taken aback by his diabolical swiftness. He's not overtly strong, per se, but can hold his own in a grapple. Auz is unable to physically age past 27, and has the ability to come back to life four times against any single opponent, hence his epithet. His body will resurrect within thirty feet of where he died after a period of ten to fifteen seconds, his corpse fading into a crimson glow than vanishes and then reappears in a random spot, which then forms into his fresh (and fully equipped) body. This means that in order for him to die for good, the same warrior would have to kill him five times in a 24 hour period. Every day that passes without him dying to that opponent will return a life to him, so that if an enemy kills him twice and then waits two days, said enemy will be back at square one. Perhaps it's a good thing for opponents that Auz isn't the type to retreat. Furthermore, every time Auz dies he becomes 25% faster than he was in his previous body for a period of twenty-four hours. On his last body against a single enemy, when true death looms, Auz will have gained a full 244% increase in speed. His body does indeed become somewhat tougher and stronger in order to withstand greater speeds, and yes, Auz can commit suicide if he kills himself five times in a day. Personality- Auz is cutting and sardonic, his dark wit (the man enjoys his one-liners) born from pessimism. He cares not for status or friendship, being a solitary soul in search of nothing but that which gives his life meaning; war. He doesn't like alcohol or other substances, and only enjoys the company of women after a battle. His solemn, irreverent mentality isolates him, but he's not necessarily a "bad guy". He fights for the underdogs when he can, and doesn't partake or suffer the killing of the helpless. That being said, he doesn't care for hostages. Should an opponent try to use another life as a bargaining chip, Auz would just as soon tell his adversary to go ahead and see how much worse of a death they'll get. Background- Auz was born in the age of Germanic kings, a disowned prince whose lineage was thrown into obscurity. From the moment he could walk, until he was fourteen, he was trained by the best fencers in the land. Before his next birthday he was given to a distant uncle and sent away, yet was quick to get into the fray and put his skills to the test. He killed his first opponent at age 15, and went on to become a mercenary. When he was 19, he encountered a Swiss witch that promised him a form of immortality in exchange for his immortal soul. He agreed, and she bestowed a tattoo of power upon him, that of an ouroboros, the serpent that endlessly eats its own tail. What had gone through Auz's head to make him accept the unholy bargain? Simple. He made up his mind that when he died, as all things inevitably do, he'd lay down the hurt on every single infernal entity that stood between him and the soul he'd sold, laying low demons and devils until he got it back. Not a likely outcome, but who can question the will of a resolute warrior until it's put to the ultimate test? He spend his adulthood mastering his trade, devoting himself to the way of the sword as he cut down foe after foe. Old Auz was a regular Musashi, and soon other fighters started seeking him out, desiring to make a name for themselves. The only names they got were those carved on their grave markers. Little else can be said of Auz. There were no dramatic affairs, no arch rivals nor emotional conflicts. He traveled, he fought, he did the hokey-pokey. Theme Music-</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne With a four foot blade and a 2.5 foot reach, the tip of Xaviers blade was a good six feet infront of him. Leaving only 2 feet between Auz and his blade. There was little to signal what was about to come next, only a faint and brief click from the swords hilt. Starting at the base of the hilt the blades 4 foot length began to extend rapdily. It created 16, 3in connected segments, effectively doubling the length of the blade in a second. The tip screamed through the air towards Auzs chest and would be able to extend an extra 2 feet beyond that.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne It was a good thing Auz had cleared his mind, otherwise he'd have probably been too confused to react immediately. As it was, his senses were fast enough to keep up with his body. He slid his right foot back, twisted his body sideways, and leaned away, all in the same, fluid motion with nearly flawless mechanical skill. Nearly. It had been a fast surprise attack, after all, there was little chance of Auz getting out unscathed. A normal stab would have glanced off of Auz's breastplate as he turned himself to the side, but at these speeds steel was but a paltry defense. A groove was gouged over Auz's right pectoral, biting into flesh and reaching the bone. Instead of shying away from the pain, Auz darted a blurring skip forwards along the outside of Xavier's extended weapon, paying careful attention to spacing to ensure that he could keep his opponent in slashin' range. Were Auz to get close enough, then with his left foot leading and his right crushing a furrow into the ground with the forces exerted, his raised sword would spite the air with its speed, literally whistling as it seared a horizontal arc for the base of the front of Xavier's neck. Auz wasn't hitting like a bantamweight anymore. From this point on, the intensity of his attacks would be of such magnitude that even a monster like Xavier might feel the old reaper looming behind him, a pair of bony hands massaging his shoulders. At any rate, this meant that Auz was reaching his blade over Xavier's own, but due to his superior acceleration, it'd be a nigh improbable feat for the blood-manipulator to bring his long right weapon up in time to guard. Mayhaps he could shorten his sword just as effectively for close combat, but even then the timing would be tighter than a triple granny knot.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor It was not necessary to use the right handed weapon, Xavier had feigned an opening for this very reason. The muscles of his upper left arm suddenly tensed as the first blade cut into Auzs arm. It had been wounded yes, but the metallic stitching across his wound was anything but a stitching. A quiet click sounded from his left arm just as the metallic strands on his arm began to gleam as they were retracted. The blade on his left hand began to expand as it was swung only a foot. In this instant another key feature of the blade was shown. Each blade segment was capable of shifting 160 degrees to either the left pr right. Xaviers swing generated an incredible amount of forward momentum as the segments began to be created. Upon the creation of the first his arm was snapped to a sudden stop, transferring the momentum towards the tip. It created a sort of wave with the sections that would begin small at the hilt. Only for the impact zone to grow as the blade flew. The air itself was torn by the blades force and perfect edges, creating dark red streaks in its wake. The attack zone went from 3 inches, to 2 foot across just before the intended horizontal impact with Auzs lower abdomen. With the speed of Auzs counter he would be hard pressed to make a successful dodge. Meanwhile, behind Auz, the first of the blades had circled back and was headed back to join the fight. It would only arrive a time after the first blade did or did not make contact.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Xavier might have expected his opponet to get close, but his feint was an opening before the superior speed of Auz. After all, the fleet swordsman's counter came immediately after Xavier's initial attack, and so at the very best Xavier could expect to launch his second at the same time as Auz's, whose blow would be faster, and hence might land first. If Xavier wasn't devoting any attention to stopping Auz's swing, then he'd probably wind up without a head. It'd be worth noting that since Auz was aiming for the base of the neck, the chance of Xavier having second thoughts and trying to duck or otherwise Matrix his way out (without having intended to do so until having seen the conclusion of his own counter) would be slim to none. He was trying to beat Auz at his own game. That being said, Xavier's attack probably would land, as Auz was in the midst of his swing. A single trade, a split second fight. The most likely result? Two deaths, Auz sheared by Xavier's whipswords, Xavier missing a significant fraction of his cranium. The ghosts of both warriors might even spit snarky insults as they waft upwards.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor Xaviers attention shifted for an instant to Auzs sword, it seemed a slight miscalculation had been made. Auz had become marginally faster than what had predicted and his sword seemed poised to sink this lesson home. However as quick as Xavier had realized this he also fashioned a rough plan. Visibly, Xavier buckled at the knees, knowing full well he would gain only inches before impact. Within his body blood and muscle began to shape and harden, specifically within his neck and upper right body. Outside the blood which had collected on his throat lurched towards the side of his neck. This blood would not move directly to the impact point, but instead to the outer perimeters of it. Here it would both harden and embed itself within Xaviers skin to connect with the already hardening tissue. The shape it created was similar to a half oval, with the top curve beginning near Xaviers jaw and the end near his collar bone. This would be supported by a series of stiffening muscles and layers of interior metallic blood to better absorb what impact would still be felt. The goal of this would be to "catch" Auzz blade by its cutting edge using the curved metallic barrier. The blade would cut into Xaviers skin a half inch before meeting this defense. Which if all went to plan would have the blade angled through his neck and out again, towards his right shoulder. Upon his shoulder the metal had created a type of pauldron which would cover from his sternum and lower right pectoral, up over his shoulder and to the bottom of his shoulder blade. His shoulder blade itself being an extra hunk of metal to cut through. The pauldron was 3 inches thick over the shoulder and thinned out to 2 inches across the rest. It was half the metal on his chest as the rest would not reach in time. Ontop of this pauldron Xavier's chest muscles had also locked up similar to his neck in anticipation of the damage in an effort to provide more stopping power. Impact. Xaviers buckled knees dropped his body and raised the impact zone of Auzs blade to below his jaw, in perfect alignment with the metallic curve. If all went well the blade would be given no point in the neck to unload its force, cutting only a chunk of meat from Xaviers throat before being sent to his chest. Second impact. Xaviers buckled knees come into play again, bowing heavily under the force to absorb whatever impact they would be allotted. The impact would be dispersed against the pauldron, his shoulder blade and outer rib cage as well as various muscles. All of which, except bone, would be attempting to compress ahead of its wounded counterparts to further wedge the blade in place. With any luck diagonally within and halfway through Xaviers right pectoral. Not a whimper or a grimace would come from Xavier as strings of his dark red blood flowed around the weapon, shifting to metal in piles along the blade to try and hold it in place. In his boot, a cut from earlier in the battle launches a spike into the ground in hopes of expanding once there and anchoring him. Xavier wanted Auz where he was, the other of his bladed whips was aimed for his back, with more than devious plans in mind. Should it hit, it would attempt to do so in Auz lower left back so that it may enter the body cavity and began to attack from within.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz's sword indeed got stuck, and at about the same time his right flank was cloven by one whip, opening a cut deep enough to make a gash in the base of one of his lungs, as the other sank into its destination, at the small of Auz's back. The immortal instinctively tried pulling his sword back after it had landed, only to find that due to his opponent's superior footing, he'd have only wound up jerking himself closer, well within the blood manipulator's reach. Then the pain hit him. It was so unexpected that he dropped his dagger and pissed himself. Auz tried to suck in a breath with which to scream, but halfway through, a load of blood surged up into his mouth and he jerked violently in revulsion. Nearly choking, grievously wounded, and with a sickening belch, Auz did the only thing he could do. If only to spite Xavier as some sort of last insult, Auz spewed the mouthful of blood at his opponent's face. SURPRISE. It was enough to get some sweet coverage, very possibly even getting all into Xavier's eyes and mouth. Auz would have traded his left nut at that moment for AIDs. He hoped that it would buy him enough time to actually verbalize a fitting farewell. One with a lot of nice curse words, and maybe a pun or two. (You still around mang? I intend to see this through to the end. The fat lady has only drawn breath.)</s>	<\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria If Xavier did nothing and froze up, Auz would pick his dagger back up and finish the fella off with a knife to the skull.</s>
<\|description\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Physically Appearing Age: 25 Actual Age: 100+ (Recently Reawakened) Race: Bloodbayne (Dread Energy Tainted Humanoid) Abilities --- [Level 3] By spending many years fighting wars, creatures and even others with powers like himself, Xavier has gained a vast knowledge of battle in various styles and with different weapons. It has allowed him to become an expert with all melee weapons and primitive ranged weapons. As well giving him great natural reaction speeds, which increase as he gets warmed up in battle. [Level 5] Speed and strength - The Dread Energy has set about a very drastic physical change within Xaviers body granting him a physical prowess well beyond what one would expect from a man of such small stature. The most powerful of his hits has been given the name 'Moon Crusher' however his body requires a sort of build up to such force. At any given moment however he could swing his fists to deliver a whopping 3000lbs of straight impact force. This type of swing is made all the more destructive with the additional weight and rigidity of Xaviers Dread Metal infused skeletal structure. The same essential thing could be said about his speed, the energy within his body has molded his muscles beautifully and while his motion is not a blur his acceleration is a sight to behold. There are more powers to show for Xavier. However this fight is calling only on a Level 5 variation.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz sat on a stump, polishing his sword. He was waiting for someone. A month prior, he had heard rumors of a supernatural warrior that frequented these parts. How does one get the attention of so rare and fearsome an opponent? Easy. Spread shitty rumors about their mother, and openly declare, in every tavern and pub, precisely what you'll do with their dismembered corpse. With power comes pride. Auz had little doubt the bastard would come and find him.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Nestled within a bushel of tree branches, Xavier stood upon a thick tree branch with his left hand resting against the tree. From within their cover he spied upon the man sitting upon the stump, his brow furrowed in a rough glare as the dark crimson light of his eyes smoldered in anger. There was something strange about this land that had caused the majority of his powers to be sealed away only to be seen on random occasions. Thankfully though he found that his physical enhancements were there to stay and so even though he was more than 150 paces from the man it was very clear that he matched the description of the big mouthed fool from town. Sunken black eyes, piss blonde hair in a butchered bowl cut and his starving face. Xavier replayed what was claimed to have been said by this man and in the beginning it had made him laugh. It had been well over 10 lifetimes since he had seen his mother so it wasn't until the man claimed to befoul a corpse he could not create that Xavier dropped his mug and marched into the forest. Now as he stood and stared while stewing on the matter his free hand began to twitch and throb before thin streams of blood began to ooze from the pores on his hand. Even his blood had been affected, it wasn't as easy to will it into action and its form was easily broken if he lost physical contact. Within a few seconds he held a handful of blood and his hand returned to normal just before the blood jumped and took the shape of slender dagger. Gripping its hilt tightly in hand he leapt from the branch he stood on to the one infront of him, repeating this loud process until he would leap from a tree not more than 50 paces infront of the man. Taking no effort to conceal himself Xavier heaved the dagger in his hand at the man, the blade glistening from tip to hilt as it left his hand. Xavier would land 40 paces away from the man as the blade flew towards his target allowing his attack to introduce him. Should the blade hit the man it would simply break on impact, folding into a blood stain in an instant. The same would happen if it should miss and hit dirt.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz wasn't exactly the most cautious of warriors. Being able to return from the dead can have that effect on you. The blood knife splatted against Auz's chestplate. Auz blinked in surprise, and swept a finger over the blood. He'd give it a sniff. Then a little taste. With a retch he leaned over and spat it out, panting. After a few moments of struggling not to throw up, Auz finally gave his attention to the newcomer. He stood up, tapping his sword against a plated boot. "You threw blood on me. Actual blood. I hope to God you don't have diabetes or something. Do you at all realise how disgusting that is? I mean, who throws blood at people? Seriously?"</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor Confusion danced across Xaviers face as he could feel the weak impact of his blade. Such a reaction was unexpected, he had hoped for something just a tad more violent. Things were going to have to be much more hands on this time around. With a quiet chuckle Xavier shakes his head and makes eye contact with Auz. Hiding his right hand behind his back as it began to throb and fill with his blood once again. This time however Xavier allowed it to gather, trying to collect more of his metal for a bigger weapon. "You will need a stronger stomach than that tonight my friend" Xavier spoke, his attention never weigning. "Before the day is out, you will see much more blood than that."</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne "Going to be having your period?" Auz swung his sword back and forth a few times, warming up. He already had his helm on his head and the buckler strapped to his forearm. He then frowned, eyes flicking down to his breastplate; there was a dented in puncture mark where the dagger had struck. Odd. He'd never seen blood do that before. "Besides, I hardly think the day will be out before we're done. You will be, though." Auz dipped his sword low, point six inches from the ground, gripping the hilt in both hands almost like how one holds a golf club. His left arm was bent at the elbow though, instead of straightened out. He widened his stance, left foot forwards, and having readied himself, rolled his neck to an accompaniment of cracking joints.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor Xaviers brow furrowed once again and he opened his mouth for a rebuttle, but closed it soon after. Only to open it again, the glare on his brow lessening as he fought the onset of a smirk before closing his mouth again. "Fuck off." he shot in reply, no longer hiding his smirk. Perhaps there was more to this man than a first look could see. Experience had taught him to separate arrogance and confidence and while this man oozed both of them. The man still held himself with surety. Even while knowing exactly who he was up against. Maybe the battle could even turn out...fun after all. Taking in a deep breath Xavier tensed the muscles in his legs, lightly angling his upper body towards the man. Behind his back his right hand still collected blood, amassing over two handfuls in a jiggling mound in his palm. In an instant Xavier was mobile, using his left leg to throw him forward and causing him to accerlerate at an incredible rate towards Auz. Covering 43 of the remaining 50 paces in 4 bounds and 4 seconds. In the moment he first moved, so did the blood he held in his hand. Restructuring itself into the shape of a long rod, as there was not yet enough blood to create anything larger. The rod was 4 foot long and 1 inch thick when it took a solid metallic form, glistening with a dark red hue. Being held dead center at the 2ft mark so that only that exact amount would have to be hidden behind his back. On the 4th bound he would land on his left foot, shifting his legs quickly so that his right was infront but not yet on the ground. With a quick thrust of his left leg Xavier slid himself along the ground the instant his right foot made contact, taking a wide stance himself while sliding an extra foot towards Auz. Putting him at a perfect striking distance with his 2ft reach. As he slid Xavier would rotate his right wrist and arm to bring the rod into view, slamming it forward without any pull back. The metal shifting position of its own accord so that Xavier held thr very base of the rod instead of the center. Xavier Utlized the torque of his wrist to align the rod and add more power as he swung. Never once stopping his blood from feeding into the rod. The target would be the mans left hand side and a direct hit would surely crush at least the armor there. As even such a weakly initiated blow at Xaviers hand could surpass that of a master human striker. Started at 50 paces.(feet) Closed 43 of them in 4 large steps. (7 remaining.) 1 extra foot to 44 in slide.(6 remaining) 4 foot rod and two foot reach make for a possible contact.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz bent his knees at the ready, only to gasp when his opponent shot forwards with more speed than he had seen anyone move with before. Auz had only a few seconds to contemplate a course of action. In those scant moments, he pieced together a few things. The faster something moves, the harder it is for it to slow down. His opponent was bipedal and not as well armored, at least at first glance. Auz waited until Xavier was one bound away from attacking before he put those factors to use. He threw himself down into a tuck and roll to barrel into the rushing enemy's legs mid-stride (so that his upper back would impact Xavier's knees), releasing his left handed grip on his sword in order to raise his buckler up to guard against any attacks that might be aimed at his head and crossing his right arm over his midsection to keep his sword more or less out of the way. Auz's chin would be ducked behind the crook of his left shoulder, effectively insulating him from being knocked out by a miraculously timed knee or kick, by way of making it harder for his brain to be rocked. Not likely, but one doesn't get very far without being prepared. Auz was daring, not stupid. The crazy counter Auz had launched might damage Xavier's legs and, probably moreso, send him tumbling head over heels like a runaway pinwheel if it worked well.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne DoctorA short gasp slipped from Xaviers lips as his opponent lurched forward, attempting to slam his feet down in an emergency brake. The instant his foot hit so did Auz, the impact stopping the majority of Xaviers forward momentum. The remainder went to his upper body, sending him reeling over Auz in an instant. In this moment it was all he could do to reach down with his left hand and put it near Auz, calling to the blood there. What had not dried yet bubbled at the surface for an instant before lifting from the cuirass and onto his skin. The extra blood was only a half handful, but it was enough to allow a 2 foot growth of his rod (oh yeah) as it transferred into his body. Now almost completely upside down Xavier thrust his hand and rod down towards the ground. The tip flattened just before impact, widening to the shape of a teacup saucer so that when it slammed on the ground it would resist penetration and propel him into the air. With a swift curl of the legs and a shift of his body weight Xavier flipped to reorient himself, landing 6 paces from the man. The tip of the now 6 foot rod thinning out so that he could slam it two feet into the ground as he dropped to a knee on impact. "Quick Reflexes." the smirk was now a tiny psychotic smile. The hit left his legs a little sore, but his superior muscular density prevented serious injury. While taking a very long and deep breath Xavier visibly tensed his right hand. For a moment his hand swelled before 'popping' and allowing blood to ooze from every pore onto the rod. This was intended to make the weapon grow, but its change was not visible on the portion out of the ground.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz sprang to his feet at about the same time Xavier did. He eyed the bloody hand, the crimson rod, then darted a look at his breastplate. Gears turned, pieces fell into place. And, matching Xavier's smirk with a sardonic grin of his own, Aux neatly took a sharp step to his right, angling his left flank towards Xavier in order to preemptively evade what he guessed would be a piston of deadly blood shooting up from the spot he had just been standing in. Or perhaps there was no secret attack. Auz might have just miscalculated his opponent's abilities. It never hurt to be paranoid though. If Xavier couldn't burrow through the ground with his blood, then it'd just look like Auz had assumed a curt side stance, left hand grabbing the midblade of his sword which was held up over his head. The point was levelled in Xavier's direction. (The chap on the left's stance.)</s>	<\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne A guttural growl rumbled from within Xaviers chest as his muscles began to flex. The earth at his feet began to audibly and visibly crack before Xavier managed to get the rod the twist, a nearly perfect circle of stone twisting in the earth with it. With a grunt Xavier heaved the rod from the ground, revealing a 2 foot club of stone attached to the end. Xavier had used the last surge of blood to create a rough metal webbing throughout the stone. Allowing its form to stay firm as he heaved it back over his shoulder. Though the weight of the rod was increased drastically, Xavier still swung it as though it were a piece if rebar. Rather than stepping into the swing, Xavier reeled back one step and withdrew the metallic webbing from the stone back into the rod. Commanding a minor change in the rods circumference within the stone so it would slip away with ease. The stone flew from the rod with haste, flying horizontally at the man from 6 feet away. Watching the stone fly, the rod shifted its form once again. Melting into itself now. It created a finely detailed hilt before expaning to create the beginning of a blade. What it began to create was 10 inches wide and 2 inches thick. However its creation halted after 2 feet without the blades tip being created. It only took an instant to attempt the creation. At its failing Xavier cursed, the form molding back as his hand began to throb once again. I see it as around 6-7 seconds from growl to throw.</s>
<\|description\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Physically Appearing Age: 25 Actual Age: 100+ (Recently Reawakened) Race: Bloodbayne (Dread Energy Tainted Humanoid) Abilities --- [Level 3] By spending many years fighting wars, creatures and even others with powers like himself, Xavier has gained a vast knowledge of battle in various styles and with different weapons. It has allowed him to become an expert with all melee weapons and primitive ranged weapons. As well giving him great natural reaction speeds, which increase as he gets warmed up in battle. [Level 5] Speed and strength - The Dread Energy has set about a very drastic physical change within Xaviers body granting him a physical prowess well beyond what one would expect from a man of such small stature. The most powerful of his hits has been given the name 'Moon Crusher' however his body requires a sort of build up to such force. At any given moment however he could swing his fists to deliver a whopping 3000lbs of straight impact force. This type of swing is made all the more destructive with the additional weight and rigidity of Xaviers Dread Metal infused skeletal structure. The same essential thing could be said about his speed, the energy within his body has molded his muscles beautifully and while his motion is not a blur his acceleration is a sight to behold. There are more powers to show for Xavier. However this fight is calling only on a Level 5 variation.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne With a snarl Auz sprang off his rear right leg and totally leapt forwards to tackle Xavier about the midsection as the great sword passed diagonally between them, intending to spear his opponent into the ground with an impromptu rugby tackle. With Xavier only having one leg to stand on, the other in the process of booting his sword, he'd be unable to efficiently close or widen the distance to guard against the takedown. Auz could very well be too far inside of the greatsword's range for it to cause significant damage by the time it got kicked. Xavier's right arm, crossed over his body, might even wind up being pinned under Auz's weight in an awkward position. If Xavier hung onto Auz's longsword, it might get pinned between them too, the short end of the stick undoubtedly going to the one without armor who was holding said sword by its blade.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne As Auz rushed forward Xavier allowed his left hand to slip free of the blade. A small slice present in the center of his palm, the tip of his middle finger shaved away and a slice present on the ring and index finger. The blood that ran from them danced along Xaviers left hand, adding a small extra amount to what already spread across his chest. On his face, a nasty and wicked smirk. "Give us a hug!" Xavier called out as 2 dozen, 4 inch long and 1/2 in thick red hued metallic spikes suddenly tore through the black cotton of Xaviers shirt. From here Xavier welcomed the tackle, and should it hit he would try his best to twist in the air, hopefully landing atop of Auz and sinking the spikes in faster. The metal had been intended for use as an emergency armor system. But a new use was found for it.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz had the lower center of gravity and the use of both arms, and so at best they'd land on their sides with the red spikes denting in Auz's breastplate. Which sides? Well, seeing as Xavier's right arm was likely bound across him and that his left leg was off the ground, his left flank would be his weak side, and as such the side that he'd probably land on. Auz of course would crash onto his right, though he'd release his sword at the last moment in order to keep his arm from getting pinned beneath him when he landed. To make sure his opponent stayed in place, Auz tried to throw his left leg over Xavier's legs to spoon him and keep him from maneuvering about as easily. One of the spikes succeeded in entering through the small armor gap that Xavier's blood knife had made, gouging skin but not piercing the sternum. Perhaps when Xavier remembered his first attack, he'd have the presence of mind to try and make the blood spike elongate to cause more damage. Problem is, it's difficult to think straight when your opponent is maniacally stabbing and slashing at you with a foot of thin, razor sharp steel. Auz flew into an absolute frenzy, attempting to wrap his right arm around the back of Xavier's neck to hold him in place whilst the parrying dagger flew in and out with repeated jerking motions. If Auz had his way, he'd initially start stabbing it at Xavier's right flank, aiming to rupture the liver before jamming it up between ribs to pierce a lung. He never stabbed the same place more than once, knowing by now that his opponent's blood could probably be used as a defensive mechanism as well as offensive. Auz would work his way up towards Xavier's neck just like Santa Claus, only stabbing all the way instead of laughing. Should Xavier be able to squeeze a free arm up between their bodies (Auz was staying as close as he could despite the spikes to give Xavier as little room to maneuver as possible), then by the time he succeeded he'd have already been shanked a half dozen times. That wasn't the worst part though. The worst part was how Auz was screaming out a veritable fusillade of cheesy stab-based puns throughout the entire ordeal. "Yaaauuughh!! I'll take a 'stab' at this, if you Grunt get the 'point'! It was 'knife' to meet you, but I'm sick of your 'cutting' remarks! I don't Hah! like 'dirking' people around, especially Ugh! when they are Grunt a 'cut' above the rest! But, any way you Nngg! 'slice' it, I do appreciate your 'sharp' wit! 'Shanks' for your Hurgh! time!"</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Had the world been in favor of Xavier, the contact the spike made would have been enough for a follow up. However as Auz righted himself the spike went along with him, shimmering briefly before losing its rigidity. Thick dark red blood oozing down his breast plate. Those which remained sank back within Xaviers shirt and focused to the center of his chest. It could be felt that Auz managed to right himself before Xavier. So the remaining spikes retracted back onto Xaviers chest beneath his shirt. Forming into a circular mound. As Auz slipped his arm around Xavier to lock him in place, Xavier reached with his left hand to his own blade. The blade seemingly melted, leaving 3/4 in the left hand and 1/4 in the right, allowing Xavier to free his arm before it was pinned. The first of the stabs sunk home, embedding itself 2 inches before the blood solidified in defense. Slipping his arms around Auz, Xavier reassembled the sword and began to pull tightly in an effort to further pin Auz against him as the next stab sunk home. The blade tip would be coated in blood now and as it made contact Xavier was able to halt its entry after 1 inch. At the same moment the circular mound of metal on his chest sprang into life, creating only a single pike this time. The tip was pin point perfect and the shaft was 6 inches thick and a foot and a half long. The goal would be to force the pike through Auzs body at the sternum, utilizing the weakness already presented there.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz hadn't expected a stab-proof body, and was rewarded with a pike through the chest, his armor creaking and grinding as it tore. With a bloody wheeze Auz aimed one more stab, a drunken, clumsy one, at his opponent's Adam's apple whilst Xavier's arms were preoccupied holding their prey. Furthermore Auz would keep his opponent's head more or less in place by seizing their hair from behind with his right hand. Perhaps Xavier's blood could form barriers, but where there was less blood there was less defense. The Adam's apple had but a layer of skin protecting it, and even a small puncture of a quarter inch could be dangerous. At any rate Auz went limp afterwards, this time dead by Xavier's own hands and not his own.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne The only thing left to defend with was his head. Xavier tucked his chin towards his chest, blocking this throat and pushing the tip down. It dug into the skin of his chest, slicing lightly the skin of his sternum before falling away as Auz went lip. With a quick, wet schlop the spike retracted back onto Xaviers chest while Auz would fall limply aside. Shoved by Xavier so he could stand. The end result had been the same, though this time around the man moved faster than before. Was he holding back the first time then? Xavier thought to himself. Or maybe... his thoughts trailed off as he watched Auzs body. The blood from his new wounds oozing towards his left hand.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Just like the first time, Auz's body evaporated into red streamers and reassimilated several yards away. Auz was good as new if not better, sword held loosely in his right hand, dagger in the left. This time though, he wasn't wearing an arrogant smirk. "So you have no problem getting up after a knife fight on the ground with an immortal. I won't lie, when I died that time it hurt like hell. I believe I interrupted you last time. Tell me once more, who and what are you?"</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Xavier couldn't help but smirk now as he watched Auz reappear. Though his shirt was now covered in holes and his body in random wounds, he stood strong and confident. "Mine is a body built for battle. The entirety of my body is a weapon." At his left hand another, much smaller blade appeared. The blade was a foot and a half long and held a steep curve in the middle. The width of the blade started at 2 inches but widened near the tip before going back to a point. It held no handguard and was a shimmering red hue. "I, am Xavier Bloodbayne. And what I am - is your demise." Xavier would advance on Auz now, taking care to get only close enough to make an extending thrust. Using the massive blade in his right. Doing his best to test his theory without exposing too much of himself.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz merrily surged forwards with his sword raised, swinging out his buckler to direct the greatsword stab off to his left. He had become even faster. Were he able to redirect the stab and dart inside of its reach, then he'd diagonally swing his longsword down in an attempt lop off Xavier's left arm at the elbow. Additionally, Auz wasn't going to fall for his own trick. He'd be keeping his sword arm tucked close to his body so that it couldn't be stabbed before the blow struck, adding strength to his weapon by twisting his entire body into it. With the increased speed came increased force. Speed is mass, after all, and by now Auz was moving significantly faster than any human. "PLEASED TO MEET YOU!"</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne As the buckler made impact with Xaviers sword, the outer makeup rippled as it underwent a change. The metal converges at the base of the sword while maintaing its form. Changing the blades center of gravity and putting the weight closer to Xaviers hand. This allowed him to regain control of the blades much faster than normal. Xaviers left elbow cocked briefly as he rose his left hand and torqued his left wrist. The scimitar rose quickly and struck against longswords own flat edge midstrike in an effort to deflect it passed his left shoulder. Xaviers right arm tensed visibly as it regained power of the deflection after just a foot, sending it flying back at Auzs waist. As the forward momentum was generated Xavier shifted the blades makeup once more. The metal within shifted to the tip of the blade in perfect timing with Xaviers swing. The weight distribution allowed for a drastic increase in the blades momentum throughout the swing. The impact could surely be enough to uproot Auz from where he stood should a block be possible at the current range.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz didn't just stop in swinging range. He kept moving forwards to keep Xavier from being able to back away fast enough, if back away he did, in order to get inside Xavier's guard. Auz drew his longsword pommel up before his chest after his slash was deflected, ready to parry any split second attacks. At the same time he shifted his dagger into a reverse grip as he moved his buckler into the way of the swinging greatsword's crossguard. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Xavier hadn't rooted his feet to the ground with blood claws or something (he probably could), so the immense force of his blow against Auz would have almost as much effect on him, perhaps budging him a bit in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, as Auz tumbled to his right he'd let the force of the sword hitting his buckler lend power to the horizontal slash of his dagger, intending to draw it across Xavier's belly with blurring speed to spill some guts. He'd be ready to extend his arm further out in case his foe tried backing up or twisting away.</s>	<\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne The impact was more than Xavier had anticipated, shifting his footing to compensate. Sliding his right foot considerably more than his left so he would stop in a wide stance. His blade rippling back and forth in an attempt to help him stabilize. The metallic form of the blade changed once again, though this time it was the entire mass that was affected. It would ooz to the hilt before spreading slowly across Xaviers right forearm, making the weapon lighter by the time Auzs slash would end. That well timed, last moment slash of the man was a little unexpected. The blood upon Xaviers chest began to shift the moment he eyed the dagger coming for his gut. The dagger had created no more than an inch long and half inch thick slice on his chest before the blood had reached it. In the blades path the blood solidified to metal, forcing the blades edge out of Xaviers skin as it made contact. The blood which pooled from the wounds upon his back shifted also, moving down to Xaviers right leg, working slowly to coat it. As the man tumbled to his side Xavier took action, ensuring that he would reach Auz before he was able to right himself. There wasn't a great distance for him to cross and with a quick, hard shove of his right foot he was mobile in an instant. The tips of swords shifting momentarily inwards so as to lower their wind resistance but still allow them to be kept at hand. Neither of his feet left the ground more than an inch as he moved, practically gliding for the few feet he would need. Planting his left foot quickly before surging his right foot forward. Aiming a kick that would land dead center of Auzs chest. The entire action itself was near immeasurable, but favored its speed in lew of attack intensity. The force could still be seen as triple that of a normal man, more than enough to damage the chestplate should an attack land.</s>
<\|description\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Physically Appearing Age: 25 Actual Age: 100+ (Recently Reawakened) Race: Bloodbayne (Dread Energy Tainted Humanoid) Abilities --- [Level 3] By spending many years fighting wars, creatures and even others with powers like himself, Xavier has gained a vast knowledge of battle in various styles and with different weapons. It has allowed him to become an expert with all melee weapons and primitive ranged weapons. As well giving him great natural reaction speeds, which increase as he gets warmed up in battle. [Level 5] Speed and strength - The Dread Energy has set about a very drastic physical change within Xaviers body granting him a physical prowess well beyond what one would expect from a man of such small stature. The most powerful of his hits has been given the name 'Moon Crusher' however his body requires a sort of build up to such force. At any given moment however he could swing his fists to deliver a whopping 3000lbs of straight impact force. This type of swing is made all the more destructive with the additional weight and rigidity of Xaviers Dread Metal infused skeletal structure. The same essential thing could be said about his speed, the energy within his body has molded his muscles beautifully and while his motion is not a blur his acceleration is a sight to behold. There are more powers to show for Xavier. However this fight is calling only on a Level 5 variation.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Watching Auz kill himself brought a small smirk to Xaviers face. There would be a few deaths still to come before Auz would find himself on par with Xavier. However, the fact that it was closing as fast it was sent a chill up Xaviers spine. As Auz returned to life, the blade in Xaviers hand began to ripple and sieze as its form shrank. In its place stood a sword almost equal in length but significintally thinner. A small portion of the excess metal which was gained from this made an appearance on Xaviers left wrist. A mound of glistening red metal connecting itself to the collection of metallic rods on his forearm. This piece was left more pliable than the others, allowing Xavier to spin his wrist while maintaining contact of the two. As Xavier dropped his left hand back to his side the mound came to life. One of the rods on Xaviers forearm into his skin with a blur before lurching from the mound on his wrist even faster. At first glance the rod would be targeted at Auzs face, though as it would reach within 1 foot the rod would suddenly shift tracjectory. The angle change was quick and drastic, the rod sinking itself into the dirt at Auzs feet before losing form. Creating a thick red puddle 6 inches across on the dirt. 6 more exactly like it had been fired as Xavier dropped his arm, all of these sinking themselves into the dirt in a path from Auz to Xavier. As the rods lost their form they would create 6 puddles over the roughly 10 feet between the two men. The puddles were dispersed upon the path, leaving plenty of open ground to walk on for the moment. Xavier began to slowly march towards Auz as well, taking the same careful half steps as before so as to remain within his stance.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz bobbed and weaved unpredictably as each rod flew at him, just to be safe. None followed through though, instead splatting down on the ground. So Xavier could control his blood independent of his body. Suspecting that the blood on the ground might shoot out or act as some kind of trap, Auz reversed his steps and began backing away to force the encroaching Xavier to leave his trap behind, if he wanted to get closer that was. "What kind of ploy is that!? You think I'll step on your blood or take my attention away from it, eh? Huh? Oi? Yeah?"</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne As Auz changed his pace and direction Xavier began to take larger strides of his own. Before too long he was ontop of the closest puddle he had created and upon contact with his boot it wriggled to life. Xaviers boot seemed to act like a sponge as the blood disappeared around it, the vast majority it being recollected. The exact same would happen with 4 of the remaining 6 puddles as Xavier approached before he switched up again. Xaviers strides would still have been rather slow and calculated up to the 5th puddle. Xavier landed within that puddle on only the ball of his right foot with his left arm stretched out to his side. His right arm draped across his waist while holding onto his sword. In an instant the puddle sprang to life, creating a perfect launch mound beneath Xaviers heel. The ground surrounding this puddle fractured for a moment as Xavier exerted great force against it, launching 3 rods from his left arm in the exact moment he began to accelerate. Giving the rods a speed boost before launching them so that they may make contact ahead of him. The rods initial trajectory would make it seem as though they would fly off into the forest. Though a sudden drastic turn would bring them back around towards Auz, or more precisely behind him. The plan would be to have them land in a way that would coat the ground surrounding Auzs flank upon impact. Meanwhile Xavier tore through the air towards Auz, the tips of his toes barely skimming the ground to push him faster. Xavier would plant his left foot first, a good 8 feet out from Auz still so his momentum would allow him to slide the remaining distance. This would kill the majority of his speed but allow for his stance to be regainined faster. When Xavier neared proper striking distance the blood within his blood came to action, sending a single rod through the heel of his boot into the ground. Xavier anchored himself just a moment before enacting a wide, diagonal strike that would be intended to hit from Auzs right hip to left shoulder. This allowed him to focus the majority of his forward momentum into his swing, allowing for a much faster and more force filled strike.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz stopped short, lunging suddenly forwards and to the side of where Xavier's lead foot landed at the eight foot mark. The reverse longsword scythed in low, a split second arc of light beaming from left to right, to strike the back of Xavier's forward leg and potentially take it off at the knee. This would be right as Xavier's weight settled down on the foot, which he'd have also conveniently pinned in place with the blood rod. The attack came before Xavier's own swing, perhaps even beating him to the mark. As for the flying rods, Auz figured that darting away from the spot they landed at would serve its purpose as well as it had the first time, two birds with one stone. Not having any methods of slowing his momentum, Auz would roll several yards away and to his feet should he finish his attack.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne The rod which anchored Xaviers foot to the ground had yet to be created when Auz moved. The creation of this rod had been timed alongside of Xaviers swing, which he had been unable to reach. Xavier had never taken his eyes off of Auz as he was sliding along the dirt. So as Auz darted in low and quick Xavier thrust against the ground with both legs, floating just above Auzs blade. In a last ditch effort Xavier would twist his body, aiming a flying right knee towards Auzs face as his attack missed. The impact would be less than Xaviers full power since it was enacted midair, it was still double that of a normal man. Bone shattering in the least. Hit or miss Xavier would torque his body afterwards so that he would do a 180 degree flip in the air. Landing so that he would be facing Auz. During this flip 6 of his rods were flung from his wrist, careening high into the air before angling back on the earth. They would land in a wide partial circle behind Auz, creating a collection of puddles there like the three infront of Xavier.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz hadn't any intent of being within easy striking range when he attacked, using the reach of his arms and blade carefully. Regardless, he found it necessary to take action when a counter attack came his way. In slow motion Xavier jumped over the sword, Auz tiltef his head away from the knee, both blows passing within millimeters of their targets. To the human eye, the exchange would've been a blur. Auz allowed the torque of his missed swing to spin him around, greaves digging trenches in the ground as he skidded to a stop facing Xavier. More of those pesky blood traps landed in front of him. Auz immediately broke into a sprint towards his right, intending to give the blood a wide birth and flank Xavier.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Xavier landed delicatlely on the ground, his knees bending to cushion the fall and assume position. His left hand was resting flat on the ground, the rods on that arm vibrating in anticipation as Auz began his sprint. Xaviers right hand holding his sword across shoulder. For a moment Xavier seemed to do nothing as he watched Auz. Xaviers eyes darting to and fro from Auzs legs to the ground as he calculated. Xaviers legs tensed as his the toes of his boots and the fingers on his left hand dug into the earth on Auzs 3rd step. Legs, toes, arm, fingers and rods released their tension as the step landed. In a plume of dust Xavier was mobile, making use of his unbelievable acceleration capabilities. Surely Auz would be able to keep track of Xaviers movements, however Xavier would be moving much faster than he had so far. In this same instant the rods on Xaviers arm had come to life, sending 4 through the air. They would be flying directly infront of Xavier and would land just the same, infront of him. On launch Xavier had began to right himself, maintaining a forward leaning angle without being so low to the ground. This allowed him to step with his right foot at the same moment the first rod would land. The rod would turn to a puddle beneath Xaviers foot as the remaining 3 rods hit the dirt. Xavier stopped dead in his tracks much like before, though this time the blood cradled his foot rather than anchoring it. Xavier willed the puddle to extend in an instant, shifting from 6 inches all around to 4 inches wide and 8 inches long. The following 3 rods which impact shortly after underwent the exact same change as they made impact. Creating a 2 and a half foot puddle that strecthed across the dirt towards Auz. The goal was to either cause Auz to step on the puddle which had been put directly into his path midstep or to distract him with it. If the first plan was a success and Auz stepped on the puddle then Xavier would shift the metal. Creating a pike that would tear through the air towards Auzs groin. More specifically the taint, taking advantage of the lack of armor plating their in hopes to run him through from anus to brain. Meanwhile Xavier swung his sword in a diagonal fashion towards Auzs neck. Another multiuse tactic meant to take use of the distraction the blood would create or to create a distraction for the blood to make contact.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz slowed down a little bit an instant before having to encounter the blood puddle, so that Xavier would reach him first. When Xavier swung, so then did Auz twist and bring his inverted sword sweeping down with frightening speed. His intent was to hack the thick of the blade into Xavier's forearm to sever muscle and tendon, effectively rendering the arm useless should the blow land. Just like when Auz stabbed his opponent's arm before, Xavier had the momentum of his own attack working against him. Of course Xavier could try to tank or deflect the heavy blow with his club arm, but he'd find that even with an armored hide, the raw cutting power of Auz's two-handed mordhau swing was incomparable to his earlier attacks. Either way it'd hurt like a bitch. An instant later Auz would attempt to leap high over the blood. The spike could shoot up still and probably catch Auz, but it'd likely be less damaging as he'd be quite a good jumper with as much speed as he had. Less damaging in this case would be a very, very subjective term, though. For most men with a bloody stalactite up their gooch, life was over. For Auz, it'd mean flipping head over heels like a ragdoll having its period, spraying blood this way and that from his ass which'd be penetrated up to the point of his lower intestine.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Xavier had guessed that Auz would attempt a counter and Xavier never let his gaze falter as he watched for it. When Auz swung his sword in Xaviers left arm moved in a blur, positioning itself between the blade and its target. Rather than take the damage of the blades edge, Xavier had positioned his arm in line with Auzs hilt. The metallic rods and the coating which held them there took a significant amount of the impact. Reverting momentarily to a liquid state to allow the blades hilt to bury itself with its impact. Xaviers forced his right arm against his left at the same time. The blow had pushed the two together and he used this to stabilize his arm. The metal would than attempt to leap back across the hilt in an instant. Solidifying just as quick with the hopes of trapping the blade in place. Xavier hoped that it would either force Auz to remain where he was for even a second longer to allow a full skewer or force him to momentarily part with his blade.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne As Xavier had experienced firsthand, Auz large and by far preferred grappling over striking. Whenever a good chance to get close presented itself, Auz didn't even bother with second thoughts. Instead of letting go of his sword or being forced to endure a little hang time over the blood, Auz held on and jerked himself in towards Xavier. Unless Xavier grounded his feet, he'd be jerked forwards into Auz (both tumbling to a heap on the ground), with the rearrangement of Auz's body resulting in the blood spike instead penetrating the immortal's right leg through the thigh. Painful, debilitating, and probably something that'd make Auz bleed out in a minute. Still... Unless Xavier were able to get away fast enough, he'd probably be reintroduced to Auz's ridiculously lethal daggers, this time with far more speed and power behind each furious thrust than before.</s>	<\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Unfortunately for Auz, Xaviers footing had been secured a few moments before. Upon his prior movements Xaviers right foot had been cradled by the puddle both men stood on. Ontop of this his left foot would be back on the ground by this point. So when Auz pulled the sword towards himself Xavier stood firm. The tugs power swayed Xaviers upper body only slightly before he returned the power. Utilizing his superior footing to allow him to pull back on the sword. Xavier was not trying to pull Auz into him. Rather he would be hopefully preventing Auz from gaining or losing an inch of footing by. Leaving him almost no remaining time to dodge the impending spike which would still be careening for his taint.</s>
<\|description\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Physically Appearing Age: 25 Actual Age: 100+ (Recently Reawakened) Race: Bloodbayne (Dread Energy Tainted Humanoid) Abilities --- [Level 3] By spending many years fighting wars, creatures and even others with powers like himself, Xavier has gained a vast knowledge of battle in various styles and with different weapons. It has allowed him to become an expert with all melee weapons and primitive ranged weapons. As well giving him great natural reaction speeds, which increase as he gets warmed up in battle. [Level 5] Speed and strength - The Dread Energy has set about a very drastic physical change within Xaviers body granting him a physical prowess well beyond what one would expect from a man of such small stature. The most powerful of his hits has been given the name 'Moon Crusher' however his body requires a sort of build up to such force. At any given moment however he could swing his fists to deliver a whopping 3000lbs of straight impact force. This type of swing is made all the more destructive with the additional weight and rigidity of Xaviers Dread Metal infused skeletal structure. The same essential thing could be said about his speed, the energy within his body has molded his muscles beautifully and while his motion is not a blur his acceleration is a sight to behold. There are more powers to show for Xavier. However this fight is calling only on a Level 5 variation.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Unfortunately for Auz, Xaviers footing had been secured a few moments before. Upon his prior movements Xaviers right foot had been cradled by the puddle both men stood on. Ontop of this his left foot would be back on the ground by this point. So when Auz pulled the sword towards himself Xavier stood firm. The tugs power swayed Xaviers upper body only slightly before he returned the power. Utilizing his superior footing to allow him to pull back on the sword. Xavier was not trying to pull Auz into him. Rather he would be hopefully preventing Auz from gaining or losing an inch of footing by. Leaving him almost no remaining time to dodge the impending spike which would still be careening for his taint.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Perhaps had Xavier pushed the sword out rather than pulled, Auz might have been killed. The opposite would only hasten Auz's escape. Auz wasn't trying to gain footing, he only desired to get close to Xavier. What Xavier had done was give Auz a way to kill his inertia to keep from entirely jumping over the blood to begin with. It was like a tether restraining Auz from going further out, and whereupon his thigh might have been skewered, now only a knee would be in trouble. Xavier had thought that Auz wanted to drag him along for the ride. Auz actually had intended to use Xavier's own intent against him to slow down. He hadn't taken that last jump yet, after all. Auz's body would be horizontal if all went according to plan, legs splayed out behind him, blood spike holding one in place. He'd take his left hand off the sword, grabbing for a dagger...</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Xavier knew what he was doing the entire time. Auzs plan had simply fallen short as Xavier added tension to the blade. The force of the pull had been precise, a near perfect match to the force Auz had created. It matched Auzs to perfection for only an instant, slowing the pull drastically before Xavier released the tension slightly. Xavier had been very careful not to add anything extra to his pull. This would have simply caused Auz to stop, as the momentum of his tug was slowly cancelled out by Xaviers. It was an intentonally slow and gentle action executed with the express purpose of extinguishing the momentum and removing the inertia the two could have created. As stated Xavier pulled with the express intention of preventing Auz from gaining or losing an inch. The spike coming from the blood had not been created as fast as originally intended. Xavier had been waiting until Auzs foot was on the blood puddle as well. Auz had slowed himself so that the previous actions could be taken. This meant Xaviers blood spike was not created until after Auzs attack, when Auz would try to leap over the puddle. This meant that the spike had not yet decided a target until after Auz had gotten his weapon stuck on Xaviers arm. Around this moment would be when the spike attacked, just a moment befor Auz pulled on his weapon. Combined it would bring about a different situation: One in which Auzs blade and Xaviers arm created no excess inertia as the plan had been. Ontop of this the spike was not as off target as Auz was hoping. It had been created after Auz attacked Xavier. This would mean that Auzs taint would still be the intended target. Afterall, Auz had elected to NOT jump over the blood spike. Putting him still in a perfect position of anal death.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne The problem was, Xavier's footing was solid due to his blood rods, which kept him from being jerked to the ground. Auz had no such thing. It was a one sided tug-of-war in Xavier's favor unless he let himself fall. He could match Auz's tug, but in the end the additional support that kept him standing ruined the shaky physics of trying to keep someone in place by pulling them towards you, which is more practical if they want to go backwards. Xavier absolutely matched the force of Auz's pull. Shame Auz didn't have feet that could stick to the ground, thus ruining the plan. At any rate, one had to wonder why Xavier didn't just make the blood spike jut up at an angle to hit Auz in the biscuit anyways. In the heat of battle, it's easy to make slight judgemental errors in the fraction of a second between attacks. Especially when you don't catch wind of an opponent's plan until they've already started hauling their body right at you. Still, one had to wonder why Xavier didn't just fire his blood spike at an angle. Oh shit, could that happen!? Why'd I say that!? No wait, NOOO!</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz died! When he returned, he frowned and looked around, obviously unsettled. He'd been powered up far past this point before, but never at the hands of a single enemy. He eyed Xavier as he thought about what had attributed to his latest death. His opponent could somehow root himself to the ground and create blood traps. Clearly it had been a mistake to try and rely on outrunning the bastard. A straightforward clash was also dangerous due to his opponent's superior strength, durability, and unpredictable bodily weapons, but... Maybe if he... No, screw that. Auz snorted. There were no maybes in a true fight to the death. One who commits to an unyielding strategy is certain to meet a quick end. Gotta be like water. Or piss. Something. Instead of using the mordhau stance, Auz reverted back to his previous setup, dagger in his left hand and sword held properly in the right. He'd begin walking steady towards Xavier, raising his long blade up as if in preparation for a downwards strike, left elbow chambered at his side, perhaps to aid in thrusting with the gauche. He was compact now, and radiating aggression. He was also a solid 25% faster than he had just been.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne A sickly squish and a crunch filled the air as Auz as Xaviers spike found its mark. The metal on Xaviers left arm rippled briefly before Auzs blade fell free. While the rods and their thick holder oozed across his body. Allowing Xavier to straighten himself and close the distance between him and Auz. Meanwhile the blade in his right hand reverted to a liquid metal and oozed back onto his body. Much like the blood puddle began to do. Bloodied teeth showed behind an insane smirk as Xavier stood before Auz. Blood spirting between the gaps of his teeth and his neck as he tried to chuckle. Xavier admired his now ragdoll opponent, reaching up with his right hand to stroke Auzs helmet. The tip of his index finger traced a small dent at the very top of the helmet where a thin spike jutted out. Xaviers lips pursed into a sensual cooing shape. Mocking any pain Auz may have felt from it. Auzs body would fall like a bag of bricks soon after that. The spike which had penetrated Auz vanished suddenly. Retracing into the blood puddle before the last of the puddle itself was absorbed. The blood he absorbed spread itself along his body relatively evenly. Leaving focused pockets at his elbows, knees and head. The blood would continue to flow down his arms until it coated his finger tips. At which point the blood would create a new weapon across both hands. The blood would flow onto his hands until the back of both hands and the spaces between his knuckles were coated with a 1 inch thick piece of metal. On the front portion of his knuckles, the punch impact point, rose several spikes and blades each 2 inches long. Xavier was one who loved to mix things up in a battle. Using the same technique twice made him feel too predictable. Now Auzs body had returned and life along with it. The bloodied smirk upon Xaviers face seemed to be painted on now. The Dread Energy that powers his body could been seen burning behind his pupils. A bright, almost blood red energy that would pulse with each breath. It would not be able to be used, however it was beginning to further fuel Xaviers bloodlust and with it his insanity. With his eyes wide and psychotic smile Xavier began to strutt towards Auz. Each step lightly crossing over to throw his hips around as though he were on a catwalk. Arms resting at his sides. Xavier rolled his head around randomly, though he never allowed his gaze to fall from Auz. The path he took would bring him just within striking range of Auz. Giving the appearance that an opening may be found.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz stuck out his bottom lip, eyebrows creased into confused furrows. "I think you need some psychiatric help there, Chuck. I mean, fighting is fun and all, but you look like you just shot up with some crack and then found yourself a porn magazine. Anyways, I'm rambling now. Let's let our weapons to the talking from here on out." Whilst in a side stance with his right side leading and his shield raised, Auz lowered his sword down until it was aimed at Xavier's midsection, arm half extended. What he did next was simple, easy, and scarcely a trick. A noncommittal thrust, a long range jab. He fully extended his arm out to stab for his opponent's heart. It was fast as shit. Auz's fighting style was different now, more akin to that of traditional fencing. He must have reverted back to the very basics of his training, what he had studied as a child under the tutelage of his first mentors.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Xavier held his momentum until the moment that Auz flex his arm. The last of his strut would end on his right foot as Auz moved to attack. To an untrained eye Xavier would have moved to fast for sight, his image distorting briefly as his position was slightly changed. Xavier had slid forward a half foot, bowed his legs, lowered his chest and raised his arms in the path of the blade. Entering more of the strikezone as well as placing the blades upon his knuckles in the path of Auzs so that it would glide between them. Sparks would fly from the sheer friction of it, should it go according to plan. The hope was that this hold would sink in, at which point Xavier would use his legs and hips to twist his body 3 full rotations. An attempt to rip the blade from Auzs hands and send it flying.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne The sword came loose during the very first rotation! They say a master swordsman never relinquishes his blade. Clearly, few masters have been spun around like rag dolls. When Xavier came back around to get Auz in his sights again, oddly enough, Auz wasn't there. The next thing he'd probably perceive would be the sky whizzing by overhead as his legs were blasted out from underneath him mid-spin by a monstrous flying scissor leg takedown, Auz having hurled himself into the technique the moment Xavier looked away. This time around, Xavier didn't have his feet secured in place either. Were Auz to pull off the move, Xavier would be in a great spot to see that the immortal had drawn his second dagger, now wielding one in each hand and like looking like he was wantin' to kill a niggah.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Little reaction came from Xavier as he felt his bodu being thrown. Fingers gripping at Auzs leg in a futile effort of breaking their hold. As Auz slammed him to the ground Xavier lost his grip, his arms swinging over his head as he fell. The instant his back made contact with the ground Xavier was back to attacking. Bringing both his fists down towards Auzs left leg, which was draped over his waist. It was not a set of slams with his fists but two, knife and spike filled punches. The first two would be set to make impact at the same time. Xaviers left arm aimed for Auzs upper inner thigh while his right aimed for the lower inner thigh. Both punches were set to tear into unarmored skin and either one was capable of severing the femoral artery. Ontop of causing immense muscular damage that could render the entire leg useless. These were simply the first punches. Xavier would follow up with a quick left, right, left, right combo. Aiming to pulverize the limb. At the same moment Xaviers first attack would impact, the metallic puddles placed along his body struck out as well. The puddles on his knees created relatively thin, spike tipped rods that stretched towards Auzs face with incredible speed. Meanwhile the puddle on his left elbow created its own, thicker spiked rod that was aimed for the center of Auzs breastplate.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz ducked down between the elbow spike and the knee spikes, each length of hard blood converging at where his upper body had been, hunching over Xavier's forearms right after his thigh got obliterated in order to counterattack before said arms could be hauled back to defend with. He plunged both daggers down like chained lightning, the left for Xavier's heart, the right for the crook of Xavier's left arm.</s>	<\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Each of Auzs blades would find their mark, although their effect would leave little to be desired. The metal covering Xaviers body solidified of its own accord the instant he was struck. The muscles and blood within the wounds would do the same, an effort to slow the blades and hold them firmly after. The extra speed and power behind Auzs swings helped him to make a 2 in stab on each target. Since his arms were still against Auz, Xavier would force his left fist up Auzs leg. Aiming to tear into the flesh across his groin and inner right thigh. Meanwhile Xaviers knees curled in towards his chest to position the rods on his knees against Auzs back as he leaned over him. Xaviers right fist angled towards Auzs throat. A swift and vicious serated uppercut capable of not only shattering his jaw bone but of also mangling his face with the blades.</s>
<\|description\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Physically Appearing Age: 25 Actual Age: 100+ (Recently Reawakened) Race: Bloodbayne (Dread Energy Tainted Humanoid) Abilities --- [Level 3] By spending many years fighting wars, creatures and even others with powers like himself, Xavier has gained a vast knowledge of battle in various styles and with different weapons. It has allowed him to become an expert with all melee weapons and primitive ranged weapons. As well giving him great natural reaction speeds, which increase as he gets warmed up in battle. [Level 5] Speed and strength - The Dread Energy has set about a very drastic physical change within Xaviers body granting him a physical prowess well beyond what one would expect from a man of such small stature. The most powerful of his hits has been given the name 'Moon Crusher' however his body requires a sort of build up to such force. At any given moment however he could swing his fists to deliver a whopping 3000lbs of straight impact force. This type of swing is made all the more destructive with the additional weight and rigidity of Xaviers Dread Metal infused skeletal structure. The same essential thing could be said about his speed, the energy within his body has molded his muscles beautifully and while his motion is not a blur his acceleration is a sight to behold. There are more powers to show for Xavier. However this fight is calling only on a Level 5 variation.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne I don't expect the beginning to make any changes to your character at all when he comes back. I always assumed even his armor reverts to normal when he comes back. So if he's dead and I fuck his armor up a little it just gets fixed when he comes back. Xavier could feel that the uppercut had hit its mark and drove it home, curling his bicep in the last moment to tear through throat and jaw bone. It was clear that Auz had died once again, though Xaviers attacks still did not stop. His left fist pulled free of Auzs leg before Xavier used his shoulder to shove Auzs upper body free of his own. Allowing him to release a volley of blows against Auzs body until he disappeared. Striking even at the wisps of energy. When there was nothing left to attack Xaviers arms went limp at his side as his head turned towards Auz. Slowly and smoothly Xavier would rise to his feet. The metal which composed the cestus on his hands was liquefying once more. Creating long and thin bulbous forms at the end of his fists. The wound on his chest spouted a small amount of blood which would collect over top of it. Eventually creating a visible metallic dome over where the wound was. From either side of the wound of Xaviers left arm sprouted 4 slender rods of metal which would bind themselves over the wound. Creating what would appear to be a make shift stitching. The bulbous masses had grown to be 4 foot long and as thick as a mans forearm. In unison the forms began to quiver and quake as Xavier rose only his right arm so that it would point at Auz. As his arm moved the form on his right arm began to take shape, slowly creating a short sword. The hilt appeared in an instant, the forming of the blade was slower and the metal shook vigorously side to side in the process. In the end it was thicker and wider than one would expect of an average short sword, even compared to the ones Xavier had created before. The mass on Xaviers left arm was creating the exact same weapon, though it was going just a tad slower. So its respective arm hung limp at his side as the blade shook back and forth. Xavier slowly began to advance on Auz, using a normal, wide strolling stance.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz suddenly plunged a dagger into his left eye socket, going down like a sack of potatoes. When he appeared again, it'd be twenty feet behind Xavier. Looks like he felt the desire to start powering up. He only had one more suicide left though.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne A spray of blood filled the air infront of Xavier as he gave a slightly irritated sigh. As Auzs body vanished Xaviers right arm fell to his side as he spun around on his heels to face Auz. Xavier shrugged both his shoulders in while thrusting his right arm and sword towards where Auz stood. Placing his right fist on his hip in a clearly annoyed position. Right boot tapping the ground. It was hard to convey the point with no voice. Xavier was asking if that was all, if there wasn't any other suicides he wanted to squeeze in.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz nodded, and then pierced his brain one more time, using up his last suicide. He was going to be at full power now. He rematerialized in nearly the same spot as before, stretching his arms out and rolling his neck.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne A quiet chuckling scoff sounded in Xaviers throat, a small stream of blood pouring from his neck. When Auz reappeared Xavier brought his right hand up towards his chest. A metallic clang echoing as the metal of his blade collided with that on his chest. A small portion of blood began being added to the metal on his chest, in efforts to slowly increase its thickness. As the echo died out Xavier dropped his arm to his side and began to march towards Auz.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz remained where he was, sliding his left foot back and bringing his sword up over his head. Auz puckered his lips up and began making fart noises. Truly a frightening tactic.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor A small smirk touched at Xaviers face as Auz did this, the speed of his march increasing slowly. At around 20 feet Xavier would be jogging towards Auz, his right arm and sword swinging in time with his step. At around 8 feet if distance Xavier would come to a sudden stop. With footing as wide as his shoulders Xavier began to march towards Auz again. Though his steps were much slower this time around. Xavier lifted his right arm so the tip of the blade was pointed towards Auz. The same small smirk painted across his lips.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Auz approached Xavier once he had gotten to within eight feet, hunkering into a half crouch as he moved, shield and dagger lowered. His eyes had become flat and vacant, all distracting thoughts clearing out. Soon Xavier's sword would be in reach.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne With a four foot blade and a 2.5 foot reach, the tip of Xaviers blade was a good six feet infront of him. Leaving only 2 feet between Auz and his blade. There was little to signal what was about to come next, only a faint and brief click from the swords hilt. Starting at the base of the hilt the blades 4 foot length began to extend rapdily. It created 16, 3in connected segments, effectively doubling the length of the blade in a second. The tip screamed through the air towards Auzs chest and would be able to extend an extra 2 feet beyond that.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne It was a good thing Auz had cleared his mind, otherwise he'd have probably been too confused to react immediately. As it was, his senses were fast enough to keep up with his body. He slid his right foot back, twisted his body sideways, and leaned away, all in the same, fluid motion with nearly flawless mechanical skill. Nearly. It had been a fast surprise attack, after all, there was little chance of Auz getting out unscathed. A normal stab would have glanced off of Auz's breastplate as he turned himself to the side, but at these speeds steel was but a paltry defense. A groove was gouged over Auz's right pectoral, biting into flesh and reaching the bone. Instead of shying away from the pain, Auz darted a blurring skip forwards along the outside of Xavier's extended weapon, paying careful attention to spacing to ensure that he could keep his opponent in slashin' range. Were Auz to get close enough, then with his left foot leading and his right crushing a furrow into the ground with the forces exerted, his raised sword would spite the air with its speed, literally whistling as it seared a horizontal arc for the base of the front of Xavier's neck. Auz wasn't hitting like a bantamweight anymore. From this point on, the intensity of his attacks would be of such magnitude that even a monster like Xavier might feel the old reaper looming behind him, a pair of bony hands massaging his shoulders. At any rate, this meant that Auz was reaching his blade over Xavier's own, but due to his superior acceleration, it'd be a nigh improbable feat for the blood-manipulator to bring his long right weapon up in time to guard. Mayhaps he could shorten his sword just as effectively for close combat, but even then the timing would be tighter than a triple granny knot.</s> <\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor It was not necessary to use the right handed weapon, Xavier had feigned an opening for this very reason. The muscles of his upper left arm suddenly tensed as the first blade cut into Auzs arm. It had been wounded yes, but the metallic stitching across his wound was anything but a stitching. A quiet click sounded from his left arm just as the metallic strands on his arm began to gleam as they were retracted. The blade on his left hand began to expand as it was swung only a foot. In this instant another key feature of the blade was shown. Each blade segment was capable of shifting 160 degrees to either the left pr right. Xaviers swing generated an incredible amount of forward momentum as the segments began to be created. Upon the creation of the first his arm was snapped to a sudden stop, transferring the momentum towards the tip. It created a sort of wave with the sections that would begin small at the hilt. Only for the impact zone to grow as the blade flew. The air itself was torn by the blades force and perfect edges, creating dark red streaks in its wake. The attack zone went from 3 inches, to 2 foot across just before the intended horizontal impact with Auzs lower abdomen. With the speed of Auzs counter he would be hard pressed to make a successful dodge. Meanwhile, behind Auz, the first of the blades had circled back and was headed back to join the fight. It would only arrive a time after the first blade did or did not make contact.</s> <\|message\|>Auz of Bavaria Bloodbayne Xavier might have expected his opponet to get close, but his feint was an opening before the superior speed of Auz. After all, the fleet swordsman's counter came immediately after Xavier's initial attack, and so at the very best Xavier could expect to launch his second at the same time as Auz's, whose blow would be faster, and hence might land first. If Xavier wasn't devoting any attention to stopping Auz's swing, then he'd probably wind up without a head. It'd be worth noting that since Auz was aiming for the base of the neck, the chance of Xavier having second thoughts and trying to duck or otherwise Matrix his way out (without having intended to do so until having seen the conclusion of his own counter) would be slim to none. He was trying to beat Auz at his own game. That being said, Xavier's attack probably would land, as Auz was in the midst of his swing. A single trade, a split second fight. The most likely result? Two deaths, Auz sheared by Xavier's whipswords, Xavier missing a significant fraction of his cranium. The ghosts of both warriors might even spit snarky insults as they waft upwards.</s>	<\|message\|>Xavier Bloodbayne Doctor Xaviers attention shifted for an instant to Auzs sword, it seemed a slight miscalculation had been made. Auz had become marginally faster than what had predicted and his sword seemed poised to sink this lesson home. However as quick as Xavier had realized this he also fashioned a rough plan. Visibly, Xavier buckled at the knees, knowing full well he would gain only inches before impact. Within his body blood and muscle began to shape and harden, specifically within his neck and upper right body. Outside the blood which had collected on his throat lurched towards the side of his neck. This blood would not move directly to the impact point, but instead to the outer perimeters of it. Here it would both harden and embed itself within Xaviers skin to connect with the already hardening tissue. The shape it created was similar to a half oval, with the top curve beginning near Xaviers jaw and the end near his collar bone. This would be supported by a series of stiffening muscles and layers of interior metallic blood to better absorb what impact would still be felt. The goal of this would be to "catch" Auzz blade by its cutting edge using the curved metallic barrier. The blade would cut into Xaviers skin a half inch before meeting this defense. Which if all went to plan would have the blade angled through his neck and out again, towards his right shoulder. Upon his shoulder the metal had created a type of pauldron which would cover from his sternum and lower right pectoral, up over his shoulder and to the bottom of his shoulder blade. His shoulder blade itself being an extra hunk of metal to cut through. The pauldron was 3 inches thick over the shoulder and thinned out to 2 inches across the rest. It was half the metal on his chest as the rest would not reach in time. Ontop of this pauldron Xavier's chest muscles had also locked up similar to his neck in anticipation of the damage in an effort to provide more stopping power. Impact. Xaviers buckled knees dropped his body and raised the impact zone of Auzs blade to below his jaw, in perfect alignment with the metallic curve. If all went well the blade would be given no point in the neck to unload its force, cutting only a chunk of meat from Xaviers throat before being sent to his chest. Second impact. Xaviers buckled knees come into play again, bowing heavily under the force to absorb whatever impact they would be allotted. The impact would be dispersed against the pauldron, his shoulder blade and outer rib cage as well as various muscles. All of which, except bone, would be attempting to compress ahead of its wounded counterparts to further wedge the blade in place. With any luck diagonally within and halfway through Xaviers right pectoral. Not a whimper or a grimace would come from Xavier as strings of his dark red blood flowed around the weapon, shifting to metal in piles along the blade to try and hold it in place. In his boot, a cut from earlier in the battle launches a spike into the ground in hopes of expanding once there and anchoring him. Xavier wanted Auz where he was, the other of his bladed whips was aimed for his back, with more than devious plans in mind. Should it hit, it would attempt to do so in Auz lower left back so that it may enter the body cavity and began to attack from within.</s>
<\|description\|>Mid to late forties * Like black clouds at the edge of the sky, men need only see Hrífa to know he is dangerous, and at least half-mad. His eyes, dull grey, are wild and animal, and they betray the stillness of his tongue; for he speaks seldom, except in selfish little murmurs and mumbles, always seeming to tell himself a story. * He was declared a níðingr many years ago for the practice of witchcraft. He has been accused too of using poisons, a coward's tools, to settle a feud; though they say that about most seiðmenn. Before that he was trusty with a spear, and though few songs told of his exploits in battle, even hardy warriors came instinctively to fear the beast which slumbers within that slender body. They've probably heard too many campfire rumors, which are sure to be exaggerated—probably. In any case, the king never bothered to exile him not because he was to be feared, but because he never really hurt anyone; his social ostracism drove him beyond the village, where he delighted himself with masturbation, fishing, and of course, conversation with the draugar and other spirits.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties (Vársiglingsaga) They had gathered in the mead-hall; for wood supplies were running low, and for the smithy there was too little charcoal to warm their bones; and for the thegn's modest hall at the center of the palisades, too little firewood again. It was much too large for their meager stores. They gathered in the mead-hall where they all could sit and huddle around a single hearth, and drink ale, to stay warm instead. The ordinary, mundane folks of the town, the craftsmen and merchants and farmers, must have thought they would recognize everyone at this most dire of civil meetings, marked by hunger, and by that wretched, ubiquitous cold. They wore their shock in their faces then, when their "local" population included known criminals; níðingar; those who swindled and stole; those they thought had been exiled, or at least outlawed, long ago. And those men had the spines to show up here, now, in the village's time of most urgent need? Among them was Hrífa Rat-eater, so named in effigy by these people who had declared him unfit for their ways of life. He seemed agreeable in sitting at the far end of the hall, quite far from the flames—with the rest of the undesirables—where the sturdy warriors near the thegn and his radiant warmth would have shunned him. While a strange odor followed him about, and assailed the noses of those he sat beside, it was not egregiously unpleasant, rather like a vague, uneasy dread as compared to a true marrow-quaking fear. None knew how he caught word that this news, this message, might be of relevance to him; nor what went through his big bony head to make him think that he would want to come hear it. He had come far from whatever cave or ditch he claimed for himself, somewhere surely far on the other side of the island, or long down the coast. Nevertheless, here he was, and his whispers were intended for no ears but his own. Few heard him and thus he seemed amicable; polite, even. The others' whispers, however, carrying spite and condescension on their belligerent airs, he often enough could hear very well. Old, fat housewives especially liked to feel important, like they were scrubbing the community clean, by sending their subtle jabs his way, driving him back as the rabid boar with wing-lugged spears. His was a contaminating presence indeed, especially as he squatted so near their daughters and rowdy sons; to one he was a threat and the other, a bad influence. Or perhaps he could not hear them whatever. They relished that they evidently could spin the aspersions of their choosing, gossiping and slandering and besmirching, without consequence. If their husbands slapped them then they needed to wait for such moments as this before they let loose their inner pecking hens. Hrífa stuck a small copper spoon in his ear, excavating wax as he watched the wooden throne at the other end of the mead-hall; though terribly rude, a Norseman still he was, and their hygiene bested all others in all the kingdoms. If the thegn, his huskarlar, his goðar, noticed the Rat-eater at all, they tried to pay him little mind, and by Hrífa's eyes, largely succeeded. Perhaps as his own form of subtle insult—or perhaps he simply paid their mores and folkways no mind, even as he sat in their hall, after how callously they had cast him out—he moved for a tankard of beer, and filled a tall pewter mug for himself. If anyone objected they lacked the courage to express this disapproval; and once again, he paid their defamations no mind. He was not the first fugitive in Iceland nor the most depraved.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Excited didn't even begin to describe her feelings. Overwhelmed perhaps…Jubilant, exuberant, a little sick to her stomach perhaps... Ásdís could barely contain herself, her constant shifting and wriggling on the bench she shared with others of her age or sex causing irritated glances to be thrown in her direction. But what did Ásdís care? If the rumors were right then this was her chance! Finally to prove herself, to be free of the shadows of her family and to, for once, stand on her own and show that she too was a warrior. Her honor and bravery were of equal measure to those in the community she so looked up to. The fact that the opposite end of the hall was filled with miscreants and cripples was of little notice to Ásdís. The darting looks into the shadows at the back were missed by the youngest Bright Eye, too fixated was she on the group of important warriors bantering near the hearth. Her future was right there. She could smell it. Taste it. Eagerly she leaned forward. What were they saying? Furtively Ásdís looked about her father, surely he was here? It was too important a meeting to miss. He stood resting against the far wall, his typical thoughtful expression replaced with something between dislike and disbelief. The winter had been a hard one, it was true. It was true all the more that the strong hands and arms were needed to ensure the survival of their people… But this? Sending untrained, untested whelps, and the leftovers? Cast offs? How could this be right? Ásdís smiled as her father looked her way. She would make him proud. And that was the worst of it. His youngest, off to seek her fortune and make her mark on the world with a bunch of fledglings and criminals. Adlif could barely contain his contempt for it all, crossing his arms over his massive chest and staring at the group of men bickering at the center of it all. If he could he would have kept her away, but Ásdís had her mind to this folly and there was naught Adlif could do or say to make her budge. At her core his daughter had iron. A fact that typically made a father proud, today he was silently cursing their lot.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties The chieftain was not a particularly powerful man except by the measure of this peasants and freemen; though a þegn, most of his lands were empty, with few inhabitants paying few taxes. Maybe this was the root cause of his ostentatious nature; for he wore the best clothes he could, in the finest green dyes afforded from faraway lands; and he sat in the nearest thing they had to a throne, a tall wooden chair, cushioned in stuffed linen, carved at its facets with runes and snaking dragons. When he had quaffed the very last of his beer, of which the village possessed a startling abundance, he turned the cup over, and smacked its lip repeatedly into the table, pretending at being a sort of gavel. He was tall and burly, as befitting this people; he was measured the strongest warrior in the tribe, and one of the wiser. His wavy grey hair, stained by the last few flecks of black which in his youth had filled his mane, draped luxuriously like ivy off these hulking shoulders. And in his acrid green eyes, he peered across his room of subjects, waiting patiently, if with a certain smoldering angst.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Typically Ásdís could care less how long the elders took to come to a decision. Typically she would be chatting away with her friends and companions, laughing and joking just as loudly as the rest, betting and needling and ultimately having a good time. Typically such things were of no consequence to Ásdís and so it did not matter if the chieftain was swift with his proclamations or as slow and dragging as the oldest mule in the soggiest pasture. Today was not typical and as soon as Fjalfar set his cup down Ásdís was leaning forward, her eyes keen, her lips pressed together tightly as a thrilling fear swept through her body. He would announce his reason for bringing them here. The Chieftain would speak and finally Ásdís would know her place. Her eagerness to hear was not shared. Women, mothers and the likes, in the back bickered and bantered more, what did they care if it took a few more minutes for Fjalfar to be heard? And men also laughed and drank, oblivious to Ásdís' plight. Only the young like herself were completely silent. In what seemed to be hours but could only be seconds the room came to some semblance of quiet. Quivering Ásdís glanced to her father before feeling her eyes whipping to Fjalfar. Why did her father look so grim? Shouldn't he be as expectant as she? This thought was quickly forgotten as the Chieftain finally opened his mouth to speak.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties As he stood, suddenly Fjalfar towered over his wife who sat beside him, a fragile little thing with a face much too kind and homely; not at all matching the ferocity of the man who had deflowered and claimed her as his own. And on the other side, the chieftain loomed too over the huskarl, his bodyguard, who propped between his knees a massive axe on a handle nearly as tall as he. Underneath his peaked helmet they could see only the soldier's wispy black beard dangling from his chin; they knew it was Úða, but they could not see his short jet hair, nor his eyes which seemed infinitely deep in their darkness like a malevolent nighttime sea. Fjalfar's eyes like a predator's scanned the crowd in vain for those rebels, those irreverent toads, who dared defy his authority, and on such a drastic day. If authority alone did not quell them, he thought, then sheer power must; he shall scream til his voice has inundated theirs and drowned them! "The ship's hull has been scrubbed of barnacles," he roared, "and its deck flooded of rats. It has been painted anew, and given a new sail, free of holes and patches." He had pressed his hand, weighed down with silver rings, augustly to his breast. Only if the crowds' volume subsided did his in turn. "She's as fine a ship as we ever have seen in this place! But now she needs a crew, equally fine, to sail her." At this announcement arrived a scoffing laughter from the rear of the crowd; issued forth by someone obscured from view, who this false invisibility bequeathed too great a confidence. Fjalfar positively scowled, flashing his age-yellowed teeth, fury forming in his brow and the corners of his thick lips. "It is true that our greatest warriors shall not embark in this week," he growled. "It is true that some of the men in this room are—disgraced." He had paused, choosing the word diplomatically. "But among them shall be our own kin, our own blood and honor! Do not be so quick to besmirch the entire crew, for the sake of the few whose names you find 'unsavory.' And further, when this ship embarks, no longer shall they be criminals and children, witches and traitors; no, they will be our salvation, and warriors, united all under a single sail. So I say again: do not meddle lightly with their honor, which may yet be restored, so that you're rendered a talkative fool!"</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Adlif knew the avid look on his daughter's face, knew the hungry stare and the narrowing of her eyes. She was drawn in, captured, by their Chieftain. Bitterly Adlif acknowledged that Fjalfar was a master of the word. He could rouse even the dullest of crowds, and this collection of youth and honorless men were keen for the opportunities this ship, this task, afforded them. They ate up Fjalfar's words and waited on bated breath for more. His daughter was easily entrapped by their brave leader's words. She wanted to prove herself so badly, it was clear. Adlif wondered if he had done Ásdís a disservice by keeping her so sheltered all her life. Had he forced her hand now? If only he had let her try as her siblings had, perhaps now she would not be so willing to plunge head first into this foolish mission. These thoughts were atypical for Adlif and he frowned all the more for them. His life had been so straightforward until now...It was not like the warrior to question their chief, or even more so his daughter. Ásdís was completely unaware of her father's struggles. Her eyes shone and her cheeks flushed with excitement. This adventure was the start for her, her way to stand alone on her own two feet and show the world she was more than just the youngest Bright Eye, more than mediocre, to stand in the spotlight and not share a speck of it with her brothers or sisters. The glory, the riches, the titles… It would all be hers. Visions of the raiding parties she would lead blinded her to the looks of incredulity and mockery of Fjalfar's finest warriors. Had she only brought her head out of the clouds perhaps Ásdís would have known...Would have noticed that these tried and true men did not think this a worthy cause. Perhaps then she might use her brain and wonder why it was that no one but herself had faith in this mission. Alas, as one in the heat of passion is likely to do, she saw only the shining future for all she hoped it to be, rather than the dark and decidedly ignoble path it promised.</s>	<\|message\|>Mid to late forties Fjalfar heard the minute mumblings, and to a degree had expected them. He let his eyes, like spring saplings shooting up from the melting snow, roll up toward the ceiling, the noises wearing on his patience which always was so threadbare. Of course, he had not gained a reputation as a ferocious raider just for calm, collected airs; for mercy and patience! "The prevailing argument amongst you hushed whisperers—who once again, I see, lack the courage to come up here and say these things to my face, for all to behold—is that we should send our best soldiers, our seasoned víkingar! But now I ask you of cowardly whispers: should the winter thaw, who then will till and tend our fields, while our young, strong men are in Bretwalda or Frankia? Who shall push the plow and tame the aurochs? That's right: the very people who you have set out to decry today. Whatever fate the nornir have spun for us, they have called for us to place our faith in these, the forsaken of our people."</s>
<\|description\|>Mid to late forties * Like black clouds at the edge of the sky, men need only see Hrífa to know he is dangerous, and at least half-mad. His eyes, dull grey, are wild and animal, and they betray the stillness of his tongue; for he speaks seldom, except in selfish little murmurs and mumbles, always seeming to tell himself a story. * He was declared a níðingr many years ago for the practice of witchcraft. He has been accused too of using poisons, a coward's tools, to settle a feud; though they say that about most seiðmenn. Before that he was trusty with a spear, and though few songs told of his exploits in battle, even hardy warriors came instinctively to fear the beast which slumbers within that slender body. They've probably heard too many campfire rumors, which are sure to be exaggerated—probably. In any case, the king never bothered to exile him not because he was to be feared, but because he never really hurt anyone; his social ostracism drove him beyond the village, where he delighted himself with masturbation, fishing, and of course, conversation with the draugar and other spirits.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís was taken aback by those words. Forsaken? She was not forsaken! Surely she was untested...It was true...But only because no one had deemed her worthy of testing. That was purely a miscalculation on THEIR part, not hers! Looking about she finally realized that many felt the same way as their Chieftain: that this was a gamble. Feeling her cheeks flush with displeasure Ásdís had the misfortune to look in the direction of her father and see the same discontented look in his features. Even he did not think she would succeed! Ásdís was spared the opportunity to speak out against the naysayers as a mother in the back finally cried out "And what of our children!? Who will tend to the fields if they do not return?" Many around the woman, more mothers, nodded in agreement.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Fjalfar searched the crowd desperately for this outburst. As the whispers and mumbles around her grow bolder, they worked to obfuscate her voice; but he saw her, and he smiled. Amidst his sharp and manly features the warmth of his smiling cheeks could strike some off balance. "'Who,' indeed," he murmured, quietly enough that he may have said it only to himself. "Yet no matter who we send, we may find salvation or doom. Only the gods can know. I am blind to the ways of fate, and so I must throw my lot, and make my gamble. I will pray; I will make my sacrifices to Óðinn; and then I will send them forth." He knew she was right, even if she wasn't; that wary old mother, who cared far too much for the welfare of her child (as all mothers ought). But so was he. It was a risk, but so was sending the raiders, or sending no one whatever. When night set upon this story, only the valkyries could judge his soul's worth; only the nornir could say whether his choice was wise. Abruptly, through the tumultuous resistance of the mead-hall's naysayers, his hand lashed viper-like from his bosom. "Rise up, heroes! I want to see who among you seek the glories of other lands."</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Just as Ásdís was wondering if the old woman had been right, was she abandoning her people to seek glory only for herself? Was she ultimately being selfish and a coward by not staying and helping…? Fjalfar's words had her instantly on her feet. She wanted to be a hero so badly, to be more than just Ásdís , to be more than just a small girl in a family with many girls. Was that so wrong? The grim look of determination in Ásdís' eyes made Adlif feel some relief. Ásdís was clever enough, bold enough. She'd fare well...She'd survive surely and bring honor to her own name. And then the wandering and the wondering would end and his last child would know her place in the world. This might be a fool's mission but that did not mean Ásdís could not find her way. Uncomfortably Adlif nodded in acquiescence to his daughter's wishes, trying to find pride for this choice but finding only misgivings. Uneasily Adlif watched as his daughter strode up to the gaggle of youth and the likes forming around Fjalfar, she was smaller than many, her shoulders and hips narrower, her arms slender in her plain wool dress. Immediately Adlif had the urge to rush forward, to grab Ásdís by the neck and haul her back home. She was too rash! Too young! Too small! She couldn't do this. Grappling with his own insecurities Adlif stood unmoving, braced against the wall. Be reasonable… He told himself. Ásdís was not the youngest nor the smallest. She was a woman grown really, she was no fool. Surely she was over zealous at times and passion gripped her tightly, but his daughter was capable of more than just wandering around the pastures, chatting with the swine… Ásdís herself had none of these worries or doubts. Their great leader asked for heros and she had stepped forward, pride bursting from every pore of her.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Too far away to properly hear the chieftain—though it was something vaguely related to ships and sailing, Hrífa knew—he squinted, as if his hearing and his vision were somehow symbiotic; he leaned back and forth in his seat, trying to look past all the bare heads and skullcaps and bonnets, too. He decided he needed to get closer, and as he stood, he was the second person to do so, after a particular spunky farm-girl. But as there came a third, a fourth, a tenth, and beyond, it struck Hrífa as just mildly odd. I suppose the chieftain needs to speak louder, he thought; look at how many people couldn't hear his speech! Even a few from the front! The chatter of the crowd did not grant the chieftain any boons in that regard, naturally. Hrífa was going to slip along the wall and catch the chieftain's words from a sideline vantage, but as these children and ne'er-do-wells gathered in the center of the mead-hall, near the hearth, he realized he probably ought to fit in. Further, he feared the hound-like bloodthirst of that huskarl, who would suspect him perhaps of trying to get too close. As he joined the crowd he pushed along its side, hoping to be close enough, or else getting up at all was a damned waste, he knew. By happenstance Ásdís acknowledged his presence before he hers, and without having to turn around…</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís initially pleased to have been the first to stand and join the chieftain was now slightly vexed by the press of bodies around her, easing back she found more space and glanced around. A tall man was near her. She didn't recognize him immediately and wondered how that could be, their tribe was not so large as to not know one another, at least by sight. These thoughts did not trouble Ásdís much and she smiled excitedly up at the fellow who, since he was in the queue to join the ship, would be her fellow shipmate. "I am going to make a great warrior!" She proclaimed breathlessly, cheeks hot with a flush and eyes wide. Feeling generous in the moment she added "You will too." and clapped the man, her brother in arms, on the arm.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Hrífa needed a moment to realize the girl was talking to him; he'd seen her face, pretty and just slightly plump, in his sharp peripherals, and as he turned to face her, he blinked. It took much too long to blink, as he squinted his eyes and pried them open again in jagged motions, as if coercing them from his own body. "That's nice!" said the Rat-eater, and she sensed no sarcasm in his enthusiastic reply; nor did he intend any. "Is that what the crowd is about?" He tried to gesture sweepingly around him but found he lacked the room. He only ended up bumping someone in the back, which thankfully this person appeared not to notice; for indeed, they were smashing themselves all up toward the throne like a longship dashed on the rocks jutting from the sea.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís gaped at the man for a moment before a jubilant laugh escaped her. Too loud and too harsh, neighbors turned to glare at the noise but quickly turned away. How could he not know what he was signing up for!? Grinning at the silliness of it all Ásdís ignored the press of bodies forcing her closer and closer to her companions. On the ship they'd be this close anyway; quarters would be tight. "Of course that is what we are lining up for!" She piped eagerly. "Honor! Bravery! A chance to win our names and shields…" She had a dreamy look in those bright round eyes, as if being strapped into a wooden death trap was the finest thing she could ever dream. Adlif had lost track of his daughter for a moment, only a moment. But when he found her again she was socializing with the seiðmann of all people! The damnable girl was too friendly, too trusting! Had she no brain? No wits? "Ásdís!" He shouted above the den, determined to tell her that no daughter of his would consort with a witch. But the dozy redhead was animatedly gesticulating to her companion, pushed closer and closer to the man as the crowd around her compressed. Of her father's cries she heard naught. "Isn't it glorious?" She wanted to know, beaming up at her companion. "I've never left home before…" The smallest frowns curved her lips as a knot of worry gripped Ásdís tightly. But just was quickly as it came it was gone, replaced with good natured enthusiasm. "Have you?"</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "Once or twice," the Rat-eater said. "There are lots of trees and rocks." He appeared sincerely convinced that this detailed description would be of value to her. He was peering over his shoulder now; if he was not already so drained of his colorful humors, he would have been seen to pale in his epiphany. He had realized, at last, that as he stood, in his current predicament, he was volunteering to become a raider, and to earn oníðingr status through blood, steel, and the salt of the crooning sea. Strangely this prospect did not excite him much—mayhap he had acclimated to hermeticism, and in fact had grown quite fond of all the privacy and silence he commanded all for himself—but as he tried to push back through the crowd, he found that he could not. "Oh—oh, dear." The people behind him prevented his escape. Like a finger-trap toy, he could enter but not leave, not without great struggle. And suddenly it was already too late to leave, for Fjalfar had thrown out his arms in a great embrace for all his saviors. "Today the ship is packed and loaded. Tomorrow she raises her sail, and embarks for the kingdom of the Franks!" Probably too few people cheered, clapped, and otherwise celebrated for Ásdís' tastes; for Hrífa it was far too many. The cruel reality had struck him that he just made an oath, and to break it might earn him a proper outlawry, ousted from his little home in the woods, driven away from all his animal friends! As most of the crowds left, the heroes were ordered to stay, and meet their new captain. "Well, I was good with a spear once," Hrífa said to his new friend. His smile was not very assuring, but he clearly seemed eager to take his situation in stride.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Adlif shifted uncomfortably on his feet as the rest of the people started filtering out of the mead-house. It was expected he would as well. If he stayed and warned Ásdís off her current companion the contrary creature was likely to disobey him purely to prove she could. If he left, and let her learn on her own the erroneous nature of her choices… But it was not in her father to just let his child walk alongside unsavory characters such as the witch… The crowds pulled and pushed until Adlif gave in and went with the tides of people training out of the hall. His daughter would not leave today. He still had time to tell her. Blissfully oblivious to her companion's distress Ásdís was glad the bystanders would be leaving. She could meet their captain and make a good impression, show him she'd be a strong arm given the proper tutelage. It did strike her as odd that the tall man was ONCE good with a spear but considered himself no longer able… For the first time she really looked at the man. He was tall to be sure, but of a more lanky set than most men she knew. His clothes sat oddly on his frame and while Ásdís wouldn't think them dirty, neither would she think them clean. She hadn't seen him limping but then she hadn't seen his approach...Perhaps he was one of the ill or crippled joining the crew? "If you were once handy then you shall be again!" She proclaimed assuredly. "I am Ásdís Bright Eyes. I will help you regain your renown with the spear…" Her eyes narrowed in wicked humor "And you will help me distinguish between the rocks and the trees…" Her confidence while misguided was apparent, and while she barely could handle a spear with any particular effect Ásdís felt no fear of the unknown. At least not at this very moment. Perhaps a foolish trait for a girl barely into womanhood to have, but then Ásdís had never been considered particularly wise.</s>	<\|message\|>Mid to late forties "All right. Looks like it's time to go," said the man, looking around as the people diffused away. He did not need her approval or her permission; he started walking to the exit even before she noticed and tried to catch up. "Wait!" she said. "Didn't you hear him? We're supposed to stay, and—!" Hrífa had swiveled on his heels, scanning the room once more. He shrugged. "I reckon we'll get more than enough of him once we're on a boat with him. Right?" And so he appeared to vanish; of course. Because Ásdís fancied herself a good girl, now a loyal and obedient soldier, she knew she had to stay, whether she wanted to or not. Yet eagerness nonetheless continued to imbue her actions. So she stayed, and Hrífa was gone behind the doors of the mead-hall. Outside there were parents waiting, women armed with hugs and kisses and men with their shirts of mail, their helmets polished to a mirror sheen. If they were wealthier men they offered their adventurous relatives swords, seaxes, and good axes; if poor, these children and undesirables could only afford to take their wood axes, their sickles, and their pitchforks. Inside, meanwhile, the last man in the mead-hall who was not plagued by níþ or by old festered wounds had stayed behind, leaning cockily against the throne still warm with Fjalfar's scent. Tall, strong, and beautifully blond, with his hair and beard done up in elaborate death-braids, he was Hralding, their new ship-captain.</s>
<\|description\|>Mid to late forties * Like black clouds at the edge of the sky, men need only see Hrífa to know he is dangerous, and at least half-mad. His eyes, dull grey, are wild and animal, and they betray the stillness of his tongue; for he speaks seldom, except in selfish little murmurs and mumbles, always seeming to tell himself a story. * He was declared a níðingr many years ago for the practice of witchcraft. He has been accused too of using poisons, a coward's tools, to settle a feud; though they say that about most seiðmenn. Before that he was trusty with a spear, and though few songs told of his exploits in battle, even hardy warriors came instinctively to fear the beast which slumbers within that slender body. They've probably heard too many campfire rumors, which are sure to be exaggerated—probably. In any case, the king never bothered to exile him not because he was to be feared, but because he never really hurt anyone; his social ostracism drove him beyond the village, where he delighted himself with masturbation, fishing, and of course, conversation with the draugar and other spirits.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "All right. Looks like it's time to go," said the man, looking around as the people diffused away. He did not need her approval or her permission; he started walking to the exit even before she noticed and tried to catch up. "Wait!" she said. "Didn't you hear him? We're supposed to stay, and—!" Hrífa had swiveled on his heels, scanning the room once more. He shrugged. "I reckon we'll get more than enough of him once we're on a boat with him. Right?" And so he appeared to vanish; of course. Because Ásdís fancied herself a good girl, now a loyal and obedient soldier, she knew she had to stay, whether she wanted to or not. Yet eagerness nonetheless continued to imbue her actions. So she stayed, and Hrífa was gone behind the doors of the mead-hall. Outside there were parents waiting, women armed with hugs and kisses and men with their shirts of mail, their helmets polished to a mirror sheen. If they were wealthier men they offered their adventurous relatives swords, seaxes, and good axes; if poor, these children and undesirables could only afford to take their wood axes, their sickles, and their pitchforks. Inside, meanwhile, the last man in the mead-hall who was not plagued by níþ or by old festered wounds had stayed behind, leaning cockily against the throne still warm with Fjalfar's scent. Tall, strong, and beautifully blond, with his hair and beard done up in elaborate death-braids, he was Hralding, their new ship-captain.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís watched as the tall man disappeared, he hadn't even introduced himself, in disbelief. Where could he want to be that was more important than being here? Now? This hall, meeting the captain. This was her destiny surely! She'd meet it head on. Turning to see the captain she recognized him immediately. Of course Ásdís had never had reason to approach Hralding, let alone speak to him, but he was easily identifiable. Tall, broad, fair, ice in his veins or so she had heard the other warriors say. He was an accomplished man and Ásdís found herself lingering at the back of the pack, watchful as Hralding considered his new crew. Was he amused by the lot? Angered? Hopeful? Ásdís could not tell, his expression too guarded and hidden from view for her to guess at his thoughts. Surely this was no small task to be under taking, but that didn't mean he wasn't excited by it all. Ice blue eyes fell over her and Ásdís could feel a blush covering her cheeks, green eyes meeting the icy stare of their leader for a moment longer than they ought to have before she dropped her gaze to the ground. Her stomach fluttered nervously and the redhead frowned. She was a warrior! Not some fickle maiden turned to puddles by some man's gaze. Straightening her back Ásdís told herself firmly to look up, chin up. She belonged here. Out beyond the hall Adlif was making his way slowly back to the farm, weary with the days events, with the knowledge that his daughter would be leaving at first light. His gaze was fixed on the path before him when the tone of the villagers behind him changed. Murmurs and whispers took on an accusatory tone. Adlif turned to see what had changed his peers and saw the witch shuffling out of the mead hall. The coward was not even staying to meet the captain. Ásdís' father straightened, and turned to intercept the witch. "What were you doing with Ásdís?" He wanted to know, his tone sharp and displeased.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "I'm afraid we won't have much time to whip you lots into fighting shape," Hralding said. Though he wore a stiff, bitter countenance, his voice bounced about with playful inflections. As he walked he seemed to lack a destination, loosely circling what remained of the mead-hall's congregation. "Which of you have fought before?" Of course he expected the worst: of those who could fight in a proper shieldwall, all were cowards and liars who could not be trusted to use their abilities in disciplined command. Nay, his crew was filled with those who had the talents but lacked the goodwill, and vice-versa: those eager to serve, obey, sweat, and bleed, but who would fall like sickled rye at the blade of the first decent warrior they met over there. Still, Hralding kept any pessimism to himself, for he had been given a task and it was not in his style to fail those who depended on him. He nodded with hesitant approval at any raised hands. "And you all know why you're here," he continued. "I'll tell you forthright: I don't care if it's for the community, for treasure, or for your own fractured ego. So long as we agree that we are now a team, and I'm the leader of this team, all of you are welcome here. Whatever you fight for, fight obediently and we shall have no quarrel." --- Meanwhile ... --- As he walked, Hrífa gnawed his fingernails against each other, trimming them down without need for a knife or a scissor. He worried only as to what he would do when he had one long, sharp nail remaining, with no others to cut it. It had not snowed in some time, so what snow laid on the ground was much trampled down into hard, dirty roads leading through the village. As Adlif stopped him Hrífa turned antsy, feeling this dirt seeping through his shoes and into his woolen socks. "Eh? Who?" He jogged his memory. "Oh; the girl! We spoke about trees."</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Acutely aware of Hralding circling the group Ásdís made an extra effort to stand up straight, her shoulders back, assuming what she could only hope was a look of self-assuredly calm and readiness at what was to come. In reality the way her green eyes flickered to Hralding belied her inability to look away and eagerness to please him. Yes she would be a warrior for the personal glory, and yes she was joining to help their tribe, but now she had a mighty leader who she would fight for diligently. She would never give him reason to quarrel with Ásdís. She' d make herself, her family, her tribe and her mighty leader proud. Any doubts Ásdís might have had previously evaporated at the stirring in her heart Hralding caused. Surely this was the loyalty and preeminence she heard the older warriors speak of? What it was to truly be a Viking? Adlif frowned deeply, the lines and crinkles of his face becoming stone at the witch's dismissive tone. Did he think Adlif would believe such a falsehood? "Trees…" He repeated as if the witch might reconsider his story and choose the honorable truth rather than these womanly deceits. "Whatever it was you spoke of…You will leave Ásdís alone." There was no doubt in her father's voice, the threat there not even thinly veiled. He leaned closer to the witch. While they were a similar height, Adlif was by far broader. "She is a good girl and you are not to corrupt her with your…your devious ways." The larger man loomed over the witch for a moment longer then straightened his shoulders. If the witch was truly a coward as rumor had it then this warning should be enough to keep his daughter out of harm's way.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "Well, she, she did seem more interested in discussing the children of trees, now that I recall it again," Hrífa conceded. Though he did not run he was soon leaning back with a mousey timidity quite befitting his epithet. The man was crazed and perhaps at times rather oblivious, but far from stupid, and the dauntlessness of this threat did not simply wash over him like the tides drifting over the seaweeds stuck in the sands; not at least when he had no immediate means to combat it. Hexing him was not a feasible option, Hrífa understood, til the witch was out of range of the man's bear-like fists. --- Meanwhile ... --- Had they nothing at all to say? No matter, Hralding thought. Maybe they feared him for now, but once they'd traversed a tempest in their proud little longboat, once they'd bled beside each other, once their hands grew the calluses of oars and came to resemble his own, they'd see him soon enough as just a sailor, albeit more experienced than they, and more grounded in northern manliness. "What's everyone scared of? Well, Fjalfar has already discussed where we're going and why," yawned Hralding, "at great detail. I've little else to add, really. Tomorrow you learn how to oar til your arms fall off."</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Goosebumps ran down her arms at the promise of hard work. Ásdís was so ready. Recognizing the dismissal she filtered out of the mead-hall slowly, careful not to be caught staring at Hralding (though she definitely stole a few more glances his way) while meandering through the throngs of people. Her mind wandered to what it was going to be like, to be a Viking in reality rather than just name. She thought of the treasures she'd bring home and the heroic deeds to her name, a sweet smile coming to her lips as she finally felt the damp fresh air hit her cheeks. Blinking in the watery sunlight Ásdís wondered if there were any more chores she ought to worry about before heading back to the farm. To pack! A skip to her step the red head started her way down the lane before spotting her father. Surprised to see who his companion was Ásdís hurried along to meet the two men. Adlif could see Ásdís coming out of the mead hall . She'd be with them very soon. His sharp eyes narrowed and he moved to grab the witch by the back of the neck. From afar this would look like a friendly gesture, pulling the man in for a confidential word. His grip however was not friendly. "You stay away from Ásdís. You and your Children Of Trees. Ásdís has no business wielding spears of any sorts!" He growled. Adlif hadn't been sure if the witch truly meant they had been discussing weaponry or the man had been making some lude remark to his manhood. Either was an unacceptable answer for Adlif, but if he put his foot down about the man he was sure his daughter would be contrary. Best to let her realize the witch was a weakling and a coward on her own. A smile crossed Adlif's face suddenly and he boomed with laughter as his daughter skipped up. Her green eyes moved between the two men uncertainly but she smiled all the same as it was good to see her father in such a bright mood. "You missed it!" She cried, turning to her companion breathlessly. "Hralding gave a magnificent speech…Really got the blood stirring!" The dreamy look in her eyes said it all. Ásdís was in love with her future, unable to see anything but the glory it was sure to be. She sighed romantically and pushed a lock of her dark red hair away from her rosie cheeks. "It will be splendid! We will sail, and raid and I will have many accolades to my name, and you yours my friend" she added generously to the witch, clapping him on the arm. "We'll be true Vikings and no one will question our place in the tribe anymore…" Ásdís started to go on down the path past her father and his friend, she needed to ready her things after all. She paused and turned with a cheery look. "And you can teach me how to wield your spear!" Oblivious to the alarm this proclamation might have brought to her father or her new found friend Ásdís went on her merry way. Adlif's hard eyes narrowed even more as his daughter sauntered off. Turning those hard eyes on the witch it seemed as if Adlif was considering right then and there to kill the man and save himself any worry while Ásdís was gone.</s>	<\|message\|>Mid to late forties The spear in question was in terrible disrepair, no doubt from neglect, with wind and weather hacking away at the shaft and splitting splinters. Upon the iron blade, too, they spat acrid breaths, which turned it orange and flaky. Like a babe weaned too early from the teat it sat and rotted in the corner, useless in all the hermit's endeavors; it did not aid him in hunting or fishing, and as far as he knew he had entered no blood-feuds with another man's family. No one seemed particularly keen either about stealing his lands or the meager products he reaped from them. But could a wolf truly outgrow fangs, or a stag antlers? Rather, when these things fell away, new ones grew in to fill the gaps. Warriors, similarly, perhaps could never escape their own tools of justice and survival; their antlers, too, found their way back into their hands. Eventually. "Well, before she tries to wield my spear," Hrífa mumbled naïvely, "I'd better go and polish it. Good day." He did not want her getting splinters, after all. And he, too, needed to pack his belongings. He'd begun to compile a list of necessities in his grey little brain just as he turned away from Adlif, and attempted to scurry away to his solitude.</s>
<\|description\|>Mid to late forties * Like black clouds at the edge of the sky, men need only see Hrífa to know he is dangerous, and at least half-mad. His eyes, dull grey, are wild and animal, and they betray the stillness of his tongue; for he speaks seldom, except in selfish little murmurs and mumbles, always seeming to tell himself a story. * He was declared a níðingr many years ago for the practice of witchcraft. He has been accused too of using poisons, a coward's tools, to settle a feud; though they say that about most seiðmenn. Before that he was trusty with a spear, and though few songs told of his exploits in battle, even hardy warriors came instinctively to fear the beast which slumbers within that slender body. They've probably heard too many campfire rumors, which are sure to be exaggerated—probably. In any case, the king never bothered to exile him not because he was to be feared, but because he never really hurt anyone; his social ostracism drove him beyond the village, where he delighted himself with masturbation, fishing, and of course, conversation with the draugar and other spirits.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "One of what?" As Hrífa the bench's qualities on his rump, he swung his gaze over his shoulder, watching the girl. But she was blathering again, and again drooling over the prettiest hunk of meat on the longship, he realized; not educated or even particularly intelligent, that witch, but neither was he blind! So not expecting an answer, he went back to his business. He realized he hadn't bothered yet to scrounge for proper armor, or for a shield to hang from the gunwale. Shields were cheap, he knew, so he reckoned he ought to at least find a shield a man could spare, if not a proper helmet or seax. As he stood again, wondering who his rowing-mate on that particular bench would be (on this ship there were two men to an oar), Hrífa poised feline-like to leap the gap between the wale and the dock, and as he landed, swung his arms back a little to hoist himself forward the last few inches. He had nearly fallen in, not that the occasional ice-bath ever hurt anyone. Besides, sometimes the nornir destined a man to fall into the water! "You, sir!" Hrífa called to the first man he saw who carried a shield, and who was not standing near any adolescents ready to take it from his hands. "How much copper would you want to sell that oak-board for?" Hralding meanwhile stood as gatekeeper to the gangplank, as if he was a net, siphoning the crew from the civilians, or amongst the would-be crewmen, the strong from the weak.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Peering over the edge of the ship Ásdís smiled back at her reflection before stowing away her gear and standing near Hralding as he was the final voice of who would join the crew. She felt entirely lucky and slightly satisfied with her place on board and tried to hide the smug smile coming to her. The witch was hollering at him. The man in question looked about rapidly, almost as if hoping he had misunderstood and in actuality the witch was calling to someone else. As it were no such luck was to be found. Frowning heavily the man with the shield wandered closer to the Witch. In reality he didn't need the shield anymore but the idea of selling it to Hrifa was undesirable. Wrestling for the need for more copper in his pockets than a shield that would see no action this season the tribesman crossed his arms over his chest as if pouting. "How much do you have?" He sneered back. Ásdís was not entirely surprised to see the smallest and youngest of the children as well as the oldest or most loathsome of the miscreants were turned away. This would be a hodgepodge crew but certainly not a damned one. With pride Ásdís gestured to the various empty rows, directing the new comers with some self-inflicted authority as to where they ought to sit. When she caught Hralding eyeing her with interest and speculation the red head blushed but remained in place. She was no girl to be sent about as he liked. She would show him an iron will, the will of a warrior. And Warrior's did not quake in the gaze of their leaders. Sniffing she instead head her head up high.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties The witch's mannerisms turned fidgety and frantic as he realized he had no coin to trade, nor the silver rings, both on the forearms and the fingers, which so many northern traders used as substitutes for legal mints. (Money they wore was more difficult for pickpockets to steal.) He did, however, have necklaces, mostly Þórr's-hammers, but also runes engraved into rectangles, and the odd crow or eight-legged horse; so many necklaces! Charms and wards were they, and most Nords deigned to wear one or two, as these were not magics wielded actively, but rather, passive ones worn. Which one would he offer? Hrífa struggled with this thought: would a large copper one be enough? Brass, pewter? Or would the man demand precious silver instead? Nervously Hrífa picked and prodded at his neck, trying to untangle the thongs from which these clattering metals hung. Ah, and what if the man cared what type of charm Hrífa offered him? The witch resolved then to dig out a fehu rune pendant, meaning "wealth." He struggled for a time, looking more anxious as he continually failed, like the charm would wear away or worse, reverse, as it dangled longer from his scrawny neck. Eventually he drew his knife, a short broken-back seax rusty and grey with use, and just sliced at the leather. Meekly he held the pendant out to the man. "H-here," Hrífa said. He was not visibly sweating, though he looked clammy with how nervous he had become.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Pity and scorn crossed the man's face as he watched the witch struggle with his pendants. The fact that he struggled so and seemed entirely discombobulated over the ordeal made the villager inclined to dismiss the witch and walk off. But he knew the man was off to the ship for the sake of the village, and this villager in question did not need the shield weighing down on his arm. All the more he himself had young children. They needed people like the witch to go out and seek the tribes fortune. So it was with an aggravated sigh of discontent that he took the pendant, wiping it off on his tunic before pocketing it and leveling the shield for the witch to take. "May it serve you well…" He muttered begrudgingly and turned to go.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties As men and boys alike stepped over the gangplank and upon the deck of the longship, many could not help but feel the captain's gaze scrutinizing them like an honed knife, slicing menacingly up and down their features in stark appraisal. Of these who paid him mind, the nervous and worried could be distinguished rather easily, with but a modicum of inference, from those more calm, collected, controlled; in a word, more experienced. While some acknowledged Hralding with a curt nod and proud bosom, others flinched from the intensity of his bright eyes. Of these, some blushed, feeling shame for having failed him so quickly by the quick-footedness of their courage, which retreated into some deep crevice of their hearts. While all knew his name and his face, the warrior appeared to hold few friends among the crew, as none let his name cross their tongues, and no lips deigned to smile in acknowledgement of his large, handsome features. He was a neighbor, and in time perhaps, a comrade, but not a confidant to any of these spoiled lots, from the youthful boys to the seasoned, stained criminals. "Does this ship have a name?" asked a would-be soldier, rather young in the face but with long red hair braided immaculately in a wise style. His mail shirt did not fit him; it was much too large and baggy, so it probably belonged to the father or an uncle despite perfection glittering in its links. Whoever owned it before, he had polished it meticulously. "Sjórheror," Hralding hissed. Sea-arrow. This wonderfully excited the young lad, who, like the witch, was quite particular about which oar would be "his" in just a few minutes, as he marched up and down the rows in search of this perfect bench. Hrífa meanwhile hopped back on board, averting the crowds near the gangplank through his daring. This time he nearly tripped as he landed, the shield's guige catching on some corner or other in his descent. Still, despite his waning grace, Rat-eater looked immensely proud of his new shield, which was both clean and roundly sturdy, the rawhide lining scarcely scratched, no less bitten into by sword or axe! On its facet was painted a gold eagle over a green field, its august wings curling like tendrils of fire.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Sea-Arrow. Ásdís loved it! Shift and deadly, cutting through the water, not sailing but flying. And an arrow had a bit of grace to it, not as a sword or axe with their brute force but instead a thing of precision and delicate skill. One time when her father had been too far into his drinks the red head had overheard her mother confiding in another wife that she rather fancied she was better with a bow and arrow than Adlif was. "I exactly plan out each meal, each stich, each day. Whereas he plans out only as far as the next thing that needs tending to in front of him. How can you be a good shot when you cannot see long distances?" The other wife had chortled and agreed, regaling Ásdís' mother with a story of her own husbands foolery, but she had never forgotten the gleam of pride in her mother's eye at finally admitting her superiority over her husband in this field. Sighing wistfully at the memory Ásdís settled in her own spot beside the Rat Eater. She was a bit worried that he was so…Unclean but he looked more able to pull an oar than the few seats left besides small runty boys, and less likely to try to distract her with conversation as the more seasoned men with space besides them. Glancing over to the Rat eater in question Ásdís studied his new addition with some approval. The painting was very fine. "A lovely shield…" She complimented before reaching to take the oar, testing her grip. The wood was solid but rough. Her hands were used to gardening and farm work, it wasn't as if Ásdís was a milk softened maiden… Still she knew her hands would not hold up well. Would it be shameful to make gloves and wear them? Shouldn't she push through the pain? Be glad of the new blisters? Wear them as badges of her effort and merit?</s>	<\|message\|>Mid to late forties "I like it too," Hrífa said, his bosom puffing partridge-proud. Though he did not take it particularly as a compliment; after all, it was not his handiwork. He did not craft this fine shield, nor any of its parts. He was quick to hang it by its guige from the wale, and others prepared their stations similarly, squirreling their weapons and mail shirts away underneath their benches, and their shields upon the ship's wide walls. It was filling up. Looking over his shoulder, Hrífa was pleased that, although most their "soldiers" were rather too thin, and a rare few sported distinctly feminine curves underneath their thick wintry clothes, none carried their criminality on their sleeves! Through their tattoos, their bone charms and copper runes, their sex and their station, he could only speculate as to their crimes; they deceived his eyes, appearing to him as normal as he. Of course, he had been warned, and by the chieftain's speech, no less, about this queer little dread which rattled at the back of his mind. Indeed, because Hrífa knew that some of these men and boys were sure to be outlaws, and níðingar, and drunkards and second sons and his fellow witches, subconsciously, down in his frail little heart, he wondered which men he could trust, and which would attempt to steal his salted fish. The Rat-eater had noticed as the crowds gathered at the shore that nothing had been stolen from the ship, but he recognized that this was not a purity of spirit which stayed men's hands, but rather, their fear of retribution. The village, and its broad-shouldered king, surely would not have tolerated such a transgression as that, in their urgent hour. While Hrífa pulled his oar out from beneath the benches, and petitioned Ásdís to help, Hralding meanwhile continued to sieve through the growing crew, searching for that man who was the most skilled and experienced among them, the man who would bear the great burden of helping him to raise and lower the Sjórheror's single sail. It was rolled up at that time, but with enough finesse and care poured into its handling, they could ride not the waves, but the winds, and spare themselves the callus-building drudgery or rowing for many pleasant hours. Suddenly the gangplank had been yanked away, threatening to fall overboard as it was pulled upon the deck. Hralding was not moved by the dejected and crestfallen faces of those on dry land who had been too late to cross it; neither did he acknowledge the worries and woes of the crew's families onshore. In fact he seemed to nothing nothing but his crew, and their instruments of war. "I'm not one for long speeches," he growled. "So turn to our left, and remember what you see. When your hands sting with salt and splinters, and your arms burn, and you're ready to give up—" he swept his arm out toward the village— "I want these to be the faces you remember. These are the people you are failing if you give up! All right. Let's get this ship moving."</s>
<\|description\|>Mid to late forties * Like black clouds at the edge of the sky, men need only see Hrífa to know he is dangerous, and at least half-mad. His eyes, dull grey, are wild and animal, and they betray the stillness of his tongue; for he speaks seldom, except in selfish little murmurs and mumbles, always seeming to tell himself a story. * He was declared a níðingr many years ago for the practice of witchcraft. He has been accused too of using poisons, a coward's tools, to settle a feud; though they say that about most seiðmenn. Before that he was trusty with a spear, and though few songs told of his exploits in battle, even hardy warriors came instinctively to fear the beast which slumbers within that slender body. They've probably heard too many campfire rumors, which are sure to be exaggerated—probably. In any case, the king never bothered to exile him not because he was to be feared, but because he never really hurt anyone; his social ostracism drove him beyond the village, where he delighted himself with masturbation, fishing, and of course, conversation with the draugar and other spirits.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "I like it too," Hrífa said, his bosom puffing partridge-proud. Though he did not take it particularly as a compliment; after all, it was not his handiwork. He did not craft this fine shield, nor any of its parts. He was quick to hang it by its guige from the wale, and others prepared their stations similarly, squirreling their weapons and mail shirts away underneath their benches, and their shields upon the ship's wide walls. It was filling up. Looking over his shoulder, Hrífa was pleased that, although most their "soldiers" were rather too thin, and a rare few sported distinctly feminine curves underneath their thick wintry clothes, none carried their criminality on their sleeves! Through their tattoos, their bone charms and copper runes, their sex and their station, he could only speculate as to their crimes; they deceived his eyes, appearing to him as normal as he. Of course, he had been warned, and by the chieftain's speech, no less, about this queer little dread which rattled at the back of his mind. Indeed, because Hrífa knew that some of these men and boys were sure to be outlaws, and níðingar, and drunkards and second sons and his fellow witches, subconsciously, down in his frail little heart, he wondered which men he could trust, and which would attempt to steal his salted fish. The Rat-eater had noticed as the crowds gathered at the shore that nothing had been stolen from the ship, but he recognized that this was not a purity of spirit which stayed men's hands, but rather, their fear of retribution. The village, and its broad-shouldered king, surely would not have tolerated such a transgression as that, in their urgent hour. While Hrífa pulled his oar out from beneath the benches, and petitioned Ásdís to help, Hralding meanwhile continued to sieve through the growing crew, searching for that man who was the most skilled and experienced among them, the man who would bear the great burden of helping him to raise and lower the Sjórheror's single sail. It was rolled up at that time, but with enough finesse and care poured into its handling, they could ride not the waves, but the winds, and spare themselves the callus-building drudgery or rowing for many pleasant hours. Suddenly the gangplank had been yanked away, threatening to fall overboard as it was pulled upon the deck. Hralding was not moved by the dejected and crestfallen faces of those on dry land who had been too late to cross it; neither did he acknowledge the worries and woes of the crew's families onshore. In fact he seemed to nothing nothing but his crew, and their instruments of war. "I'm not one for long speeches," he growled. "So turn to our left, and remember what you see. When your hands sting with salt and splinters, and your arms burn, and you're ready to give up—" he swept his arm out toward the village— "I want these to be the faces you remember. These are the people you are failing if you give up! All right. Let's get this ship moving."</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís turned obligingly to the left as she peered across the shore. Her own parents had not attended having said goodbye to their smallest daughter the night before. The redhead took this as a sign in their belief that she would succeed and turned away with a security in herself. A child would always believe she could be fruitful if only her parents told her so. For they knew much more than herself and how could they be wrong? Their assurance in her great deeds to come more premonition than hopeful wishing. Turning back to her companion the rush of confidence she felt was faltering already and they hadn't even left the beach line. "Do you think the splinters will be particularly bad?" She asked trying for light and teasing and falling short. More concerned and uncertain. The bright smile on her young face was at odds with the furrowing of her brow and the sidelong glances to their noble leader. His speed had indeed been short. It was always daunting when your day dreams were not being met. Of course Ásdís had always thought of the riveting speeches she'd give and receive. Sighing she tugged on the oar at the command to get the ship moving. Even with the witch at her side the motion was unfamiliar and tentative under her hands. Too much pressure and she was yanking the wood awkwardly against her companion, not enough and the oar was not really moving in time with it's companions. Soon Ásdís was consumed with the task and doing her best to perfect her technique while shooting furtive glances at Hralding in order to ensure he didn't know how terrible an oarsman she was. For Now. Ásdís assured herself shoving the plank away from herself and bumping elbows with Rat Eater. She'd improve, surely!</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties The ship was pushed off the dock by the people on that side of the ship, which was crudely and haphazardly rowed out a few hundred meters. Hralding dropped anchor, and began to speak to the crew about the fine art of carving speed from the waves with these their wooden chisels; he explained that everyone needed to row in unison, totally synchronized and harmonious to each other. He began to teach them their first rowing song, which would help them keep the beat with each other as they sang it. The lyrics regarded a man who, knowing that his lord was wanted by the king for crimes unpunished, cut off his lord's head and delivered it to his king, and then had his own head cut off for treason against his leader. Both men's heads were hung beside each other from the same city gate. Some of the sailors knew the song already, and their eyes glazed over as the novices caught up to their expertise. "It stops hurting after a week or two," Hrífa had said, though his own eyes had turned glassy long before these harangues began. He already knew how to sail, so he stared out disinterestedly over the vast, limitless horizon, wondering how far away was the edge of the world, and hoping perhaps to see a family of puffins darting around the rocks. Almost instinctively he rubbed his fingers together, and though he wore wool mittens, he knew his calluses had faded away long ago. He, too, would hurt. But it was a strangely soothing pain, a pain which spoke of the ship's progress. When a rower's hands seemed bitten by frost and friction, he knew he had worked hard that day. They were badges of honor, those patches of toughened skin. Nevertheless he hoped for a blessing. His oar was to be rowed by a young girl; and though he was a man, he was a scrawny one, withered away in his solitude. Hrífa hoped the ship would not lean with their weakness. He looked behind himself again, wondering if their half of the crew would compensate. The wind felt good and strong but for their sail to capture it, and bloat with its whispers, its direction would need to shift westward a time.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís had heard the song once or twice before but never in detail or length and never for the purpose of learning it herself. While the red head had a good memory and enjoyed singing as much as the next lass, the story itself was gruesome (albeit fair) and had Ásdís cringing from time to time as she fumbled over the words. If she were beheaded for being disloyal to her lord and yet loyal to her King Ásdís would at least hope her head wouldn't be set next to that of the person she had killed. And what a funny thought that was… How could someone at once be loyal and disloyal? Didn't that argue the definition of loyalty? And had the man been Loyal to himself? Loyal to his morals and codes? Did that even matter? Ásdís shook her head trying to clear it of such unusual and deep thoughts. What did it matter?! She was not in that position and likeliness was she'd never be, so why ponder uselessly after something that would never come to be? Disturbed by her bleak wonderings she was actually glad the rat eater had spoken, sharply looking over at him. Her hopes died quickly. But perhaps she could draw him into conversation…? "Oh good. It's not that I'm so vain or afraid of pain, so much as I am concerned the blisters would lessen my competency." Flushing at this she hurried to clarify. "Not that I won't work through the pain. I'll be an excellent rowing partner don't you worry…" Ásdís sighed as the boat rocked with a wave. Not out of the harbor and she was already behaving foolishly. Turning her green eyes to her companion she smiled forlornly. "Do you think if you were beheaded as the man in the song was, would you like your head to be placed beside that of your previous ruler who you beheaded yourself?"</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Though he gave her a queer, sidelong glance, hurriedly Hrífa searched elsewhere for his answer, away in the distant clouds. If he was honest, he was searching for birds again. "Once my head has been cut, I probably won't much mind what happens to my body," he confessed in a hushed whisper, as though Hralding was on the other side of the ship, at the aft, steering the rudder, the witch saw no cause to disrupt his lessons. "If I do, I'd like to see it eaten." "By animals," he added clumsily, as if that was in doubt. But why not? Every tree-nut he ever ground to flour may have belonged to a mouse, who fancied the gaunt intruder rather like a towering thief likewise! Then all his life he had breathed air which belonged to terns and gulls, and gulped water which was the house of many fish. He was remorseless and really rather selfish in his taking of those things which his physiology demanded—unapologetic—but this came too with the stipulation of debt. Some day he hoped to return to the earth what he had borrowed, and rotting in a tomb, this was not possible; hanging from a king's gate, he was out of reach for all things but the ravens. He did not fancy that fate fair and just to the other critters who held him in their debt, the others he owed a pound of his flesh. What he loved about this place he called nature, and all its inhabitants, was that it obeyed its own laws, and these laws cared not for the whimsies of men, as men were encapsulated within these laws, and they too obeyed this code, even when they thought they rebelled against nature by erecting walls and hiding behind them, building keeps high into the sky to escape the floods, and pits deep in the earth to avoid the winds. Men's laws were just different. Hrífa obeyed them (most times) despite disagreeing with them; he knew well why Håkon deserved death at the hands of Þormóðr Karkr, and why the slave in turn was deemed a traitor: the dishonor of his treachery outweighed the heroics of his vigilantism. But who was a man to declare who "deserved" what? Who owned that infallible right to deliver his fellows to the afterlife? The world claimed its dues without fretting for these highfalutin abstracts, often enough. Supposedly wicked men lived and supposedly good ones fell like birch limbs to wicked axes. But eventually all men paid the same debt, and the witch, while not anticipating his day with any enthusiasm, also did not fear the time when his caught up with him. He would pay it gladly.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed "Eaten?" Ásdís repeated uncertainly. She hadn't much thought of her own death, it was foretold and it would happen when it would. So she hadn't considered much either what would happen to her remains. Now that she thought of it Ásdís was surprised that Hrífa wanted such a thing. Shouldn't he prefer his body to be burned? But at least he didn't want to be consumed by people. The red head couldn't trade seats at this point and it would be a fair awkward ride to their shared destiny if Hrífa wanted to be eaten by other people. Deciding silence was the best course she ducked her head and concentrated instead on rowing.</s>	<\|message\|>Mid to late forties "Returning to the world what stuffs I've taken from her," said the Rat-eater. He could not help but let his eyes, softly grey, to percolate upward like from a chimney. Were he nearer to the water, one could imagine him dipping his hand into it, cupping it in his spindly fingers; yes, some day he would return to the sea and to the soil. Even if he only fed worms, those worms would feed birds later, and on it went. Where would he go as a pyre, a pile of smoldering ashes? He would be useless then, except as an ingredient in soapmaking. Anyway, perhaps it was a shout, or the silence which followed, but something helped Hrífa to realize that Hralding had ended his lesson. The witch blinked back to consciousness, and guided the shaft of the oar gently away from his lap, dipping the blade back into the boiling waves. "If anyone needs a pair of mittens, I've brought a spare pair. Let's go," said Hralding, who took his place at the rudder. Besides the fact that Hrífa had brought his own, a thick and well-loved pair that was yellow with the mother sheep's lanolins, he felt like their captain was testing them: the first person to ask for the gloves surely was the weakest on deck, and the one on whom Hralding thenceforth would keep the closest eye. Damn his cleverness! He would have warned Ásdís, if he only knew how nervous she was. Her façade of intrepid bravery had fooled the witch.</s>
<\|description\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed • Late teens-early twenties • Known as a good enough girl Asdis is neither disliked nor particularly welcomed in any circles. There is nothing overly striking or charming about her, her mind sharp enough but by no means brilliant, her smile sweet but not conspicuous, her arm strong but not sturdy. She is easy enough to be near and easy enough to forget or ignore. • Having lived her entire life in the shelter of her family's hearth Asdis knew not much more beyond the fields and her family. But being the youngest she often felt the need to prove herself, that she too could be just as honorable, just as brave as her brothers and sisters afore. And so when the call came out for the young and the women (and the cripples and the old and the ignominious) to take to the ships she gladly obliged. This was her chance after all.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Just as Ásdís was wondering if the old woman had been right, was she abandoning her people to seek glory only for herself? Was she ultimately being selfish and a coward by not staying and helping…? Fjalfar's words had her instantly on her feet. She wanted to be a hero so badly, to be more than just Ásdís , to be more than just a small girl in a family with many girls. Was that so wrong? The grim look of determination in Ásdís' eyes made Adlif feel some relief. Ásdís was clever enough, bold enough. She'd fare well...She'd survive surely and bring honor to her own name. And then the wandering and the wondering would end and his last child would know her place in the world. This might be a fool's mission but that did not mean Ásdís could not find her way. Uncomfortably Adlif nodded in acquiescence to his daughter's wishes, trying to find pride for this choice but finding only misgivings. Uneasily Adlif watched as his daughter strode up to the gaggle of youth and the likes forming around Fjalfar, she was smaller than many, her shoulders and hips narrower, her arms slender in her plain wool dress. Immediately Adlif had the urge to rush forward, to grab Ásdís by the neck and haul her back home. She was too rash! Too young! Too small! She couldn't do this. Grappling with his own insecurities Adlif stood unmoving, braced against the wall. Be reasonable… He told himself. Ásdís was not the youngest nor the smallest. She was a woman grown really, she was no fool. Surely she was over zealous at times and passion gripped her tightly, but his daughter was capable of more than just wandering around the pastures, chatting with the swine… Ásdís herself had none of these worries or doubts. Their great leader asked for heros and she had stepped forward, pride bursting from every pore of her.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Too far away to properly hear the chieftain—though it was something vaguely related to ships and sailing, Hrífa knew—he squinted, as if his hearing and his vision were somehow symbiotic; he leaned back and forth in his seat, trying to look past all the bare heads and skullcaps and bonnets, too. He decided he needed to get closer, and as he stood, he was the second person to do so, after a particular spunky farm-girl. But as there came a third, a fourth, a tenth, and beyond, it struck Hrífa as just mildly odd. I suppose the chieftain needs to speak louder, he thought; look at how many people couldn't hear his speech! Even a few from the front! The chatter of the crowd did not grant the chieftain any boons in that regard, naturally. Hrífa was going to slip along the wall and catch the chieftain's words from a sideline vantage, but as these children and ne'er-do-wells gathered in the center of the mead-hall, near the hearth, he realized he probably ought to fit in. Further, he feared the hound-like bloodthirst of that huskarl, who would suspect him perhaps of trying to get too close. As he joined the crowd he pushed along its side, hoping to be close enough, or else getting up at all was a damned waste, he knew. By happenstance Ásdís acknowledged his presence before he hers, and without having to turn around…</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís initially pleased to have been the first to stand and join the chieftain was now slightly vexed by the press of bodies around her, easing back she found more space and glanced around. A tall man was near her. She didn't recognize him immediately and wondered how that could be, their tribe was not so large as to not know one another, at least by sight. These thoughts did not trouble Ásdís much and she smiled excitedly up at the fellow who, since he was in the queue to join the ship, would be her fellow shipmate. "I am going to make a great warrior!" She proclaimed breathlessly, cheeks hot with a flush and eyes wide. Feeling generous in the moment she added "You will too." and clapped the man, her brother in arms, on the arm.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Hrífa needed a moment to realize the girl was talking to him; he'd seen her face, pretty and just slightly plump, in his sharp peripherals, and as he turned to face her, he blinked. It took much too long to blink, as he squinted his eyes and pried them open again in jagged motions, as if coercing them from his own body. "That's nice!" said the Rat-eater, and she sensed no sarcasm in his enthusiastic reply; nor did he intend any. "Is that what the crowd is about?" He tried to gesture sweepingly around him but found he lacked the room. He only ended up bumping someone in the back, which thankfully this person appeared not to notice; for indeed, they were smashing themselves all up toward the throne like a longship dashed on the rocks jutting from the sea.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís gaped at the man for a moment before a jubilant laugh escaped her. Too loud and too harsh, neighbors turned to glare at the noise but quickly turned away. How could he not know what he was signing up for!? Grinning at the silliness of it all Ásdís ignored the press of bodies forcing her closer and closer to her companions. On the ship they'd be this close anyway; quarters would be tight. "Of course that is what we are lining up for!" She piped eagerly. "Honor! Bravery! A chance to win our names and shields…" She had a dreamy look in those bright round eyes, as if being strapped into a wooden death trap was the finest thing she could ever dream. Adlif had lost track of his daughter for a moment, only a moment. But when he found her again she was socializing with the seiðmann of all people! The damnable girl was too friendly, too trusting! Had she no brain? No wits? "Ásdís!" He shouted above the den, determined to tell her that no daughter of his would consort with a witch. But the dozy redhead was animatedly gesticulating to her companion, pushed closer and closer to the man as the crowd around her compressed. Of her father's cries she heard naught. "Isn't it glorious?" She wanted to know, beaming up at her companion. "I've never left home before…" The smallest frowns curved her lips as a knot of worry gripped Ásdís tightly. But just was quickly as it came it was gone, replaced with good natured enthusiasm. "Have you?"</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "Once or twice," the Rat-eater said. "There are lots of trees and rocks." He appeared sincerely convinced that this detailed description would be of value to her. He was peering over his shoulder now; if he was not already so drained of his colorful humors, he would have been seen to pale in his epiphany. He had realized, at last, that as he stood, in his current predicament, he was volunteering to become a raider, and to earn oníðingr status through blood, steel, and the salt of the crooning sea. Strangely this prospect did not excite him much—mayhap he had acclimated to hermeticism, and in fact had grown quite fond of all the privacy and silence he commanded all for himself—but as he tried to push back through the crowd, he found that he could not. "Oh—oh, dear." The people behind him prevented his escape. Like a finger-trap toy, he could enter but not leave, not without great struggle. And suddenly it was already too late to leave, for Fjalfar had thrown out his arms in a great embrace for all his saviors. "Today the ship is packed and loaded. Tomorrow she raises her sail, and embarks for the kingdom of the Franks!" Probably too few people cheered, clapped, and otherwise celebrated for Ásdís' tastes; for Hrífa it was far too many. The cruel reality had struck him that he just made an oath, and to break it might earn him a proper outlawry, ousted from his little home in the woods, driven away from all his animal friends! As most of the crowds left, the heroes were ordered to stay, and meet their new captain. "Well, I was good with a spear once," Hrífa said to his new friend. His smile was not very assuring, but he clearly seemed eager to take his situation in stride.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Adlif shifted uncomfortably on his feet as the rest of the people started filtering out of the mead-house. It was expected he would as well. If he stayed and warned Ásdís off her current companion the contrary creature was likely to disobey him purely to prove she could. If he left, and let her learn on her own the erroneous nature of her choices… But it was not in her father to just let his child walk alongside unsavory characters such as the witch… The crowds pulled and pushed until Adlif gave in and went with the tides of people training out of the hall. His daughter would not leave today. He still had time to tell her. Blissfully oblivious to her companion's distress Ásdís was glad the bystanders would be leaving. She could meet their captain and make a good impression, show him she'd be a strong arm given the proper tutelage. It did strike her as odd that the tall man was ONCE good with a spear but considered himself no longer able… For the first time she really looked at the man. He was tall to be sure, but of a more lanky set than most men she knew. His clothes sat oddly on his frame and while Ásdís wouldn't think them dirty, neither would she think them clean. She hadn't seen him limping but then she hadn't seen his approach...Perhaps he was one of the ill or crippled joining the crew? "If you were once handy then you shall be again!" She proclaimed assuredly. "I am Ásdís Bright Eyes. I will help you regain your renown with the spear…" Her eyes narrowed in wicked humor "And you will help me distinguish between the rocks and the trees…" Her confidence while misguided was apparent, and while she barely could handle a spear with any particular effect Ásdís felt no fear of the unknown. At least not at this very moment. Perhaps a foolish trait for a girl barely into womanhood to have, but then Ásdís had never been considered particularly wise.</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "All right. Looks like it's time to go," said the man, looking around as the people diffused away. He did not need her approval or her permission; he started walking to the exit even before she noticed and tried to catch up. "Wait!" she said. "Didn't you hear him? We're supposed to stay, and—!" Hrífa had swiveled on his heels, scanning the room once more. He shrugged. "I reckon we'll get more than enough of him once we're on a boat with him. Right?" And so he appeared to vanish; of course. Because Ásdís fancied herself a good girl, now a loyal and obedient soldier, she knew she had to stay, whether she wanted to or not. Yet eagerness nonetheless continued to imbue her actions. So she stayed, and Hrífa was gone behind the doors of the mead-hall. Outside there were parents waiting, women armed with hugs and kisses and men with their shirts of mail, their helmets polished to a mirror sheen. If they were wealthier men they offered their adventurous relatives swords, seaxes, and good axes; if poor, these children and undesirables could only afford to take their wood axes, their sickles, and their pitchforks. Inside, meanwhile, the last man in the mead-hall who was not plagued by níþ or by old festered wounds had stayed behind, leaning cockily against the throne still warm with Fjalfar's scent. Tall, strong, and beautifully blond, with his hair and beard done up in elaborate death-braids, he was Hralding, their new ship-captain.</s>	<\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís watched as the tall man disappeared, he hadn't even introduced himself, in disbelief. Where could he want to be that was more important than being here? Now? This hall, meeting the captain. This was her destiny surely! She'd meet it head on. Turning to see the captain she recognized him immediately. Of course Ásdís had never had reason to approach Hralding, let alone speak to him, but he was easily identifiable. Tall, broad, fair, ice in his veins or so she had heard the other warriors say. He was an accomplished man and Ásdís found herself lingering at the back of the pack, watchful as Hralding considered his new crew. Was he amused by the lot? Angered? Hopeful? Ásdís could not tell, his expression too guarded and hidden from view for her to guess at his thoughts. Surely this was no small task to be under taking, but that didn't mean he wasn't excited by it all. Ice blue eyes fell over her and Ásdís could feel a blush covering her cheeks, green eyes meeting the icy stare of their leader for a moment longer than they ought to have before she dropped her gaze to the ground. Her stomach fluttered nervously and the redhead frowned. She was a warrior! Not some fickle maiden turned to puddles by some man's gaze. Straightening her back Ásdís told herself firmly to look up, chin up. She belonged here. Out beyond the hall Adlif was making his way slowly back to the farm, weary with the days events, with the knowledge that his daughter would be leaving at first light. His gaze was fixed on the path before him when the tone of the villagers behind him changed. Murmurs and whispers took on an accusatory tone. Adlif turned to see what had changed his peers and saw the witch shuffling out of the mead hall. The coward was not even staying to meet the captain. Ásdís' father straightened, and turned to intercept the witch. "What were you doing with Ásdís?" He wanted to know, his tone sharp and displeased.</s>
<\|description\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed • Late teens-early twenties • Known as a good enough girl Asdis is neither disliked nor particularly welcomed in any circles. There is nothing overly striking or charming about her, her mind sharp enough but by no means brilliant, her smile sweet but not conspicuous, her arm strong but not sturdy. She is easy enough to be near and easy enough to forget or ignore. • Having lived her entire life in the shelter of her family's hearth Asdis knew not much more beyond the fields and her family. But being the youngest she often felt the need to prove herself, that she too could be just as honorable, just as brave as her brothers and sisters afore. And so when the call came out for the young and the women (and the cripples and the old and the ignominious) to take to the ships she gladly obliged. This was her chance after all.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Sea-Arrow. Ásdís loved it! Shift and deadly, cutting through the water, not sailing but flying. And an arrow had a bit of grace to it, not as a sword or axe with their brute force but instead a thing of precision and delicate skill. One time when her father had been too far into his drinks the red head had overheard her mother confiding in another wife that she rather fancied she was better with a bow and arrow than Adlif was. "I exactly plan out each meal, each stich, each day. Whereas he plans out only as far as the next thing that needs tending to in front of him. How can you be a good shot when you cannot see long distances?" The other wife had chortled and agreed, regaling Ásdís' mother with a story of her own husbands foolery, but she had never forgotten the gleam of pride in her mother's eye at finally admitting her superiority over her husband in this field. Sighing wistfully at the memory Ásdís settled in her own spot beside the Rat Eater. She was a bit worried that he was so…Unclean but he looked more able to pull an oar than the few seats left besides small runty boys, and less likely to try to distract her with conversation as the more seasoned men with space besides them. Glancing over to the Rat eater in question Ásdís studied his new addition with some approval. The painting was very fine. "A lovely shield…" She complimented before reaching to take the oar, testing her grip. The wood was solid but rough. Her hands were used to gardening and farm work, it wasn't as if Ásdís was a milk softened maiden… Still she knew her hands would not hold up well. Would it be shameful to make gloves and wear them? Shouldn't she push through the pain? Be glad of the new blisters? Wear them as badges of her effort and merit?</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties "I like it too," Hrífa said, his bosom puffing partridge-proud. Though he did not take it particularly as a compliment; after all, it was not his handiwork. He did not craft this fine shield, nor any of its parts. He was quick to hang it by its guige from the wale, and others prepared their stations similarly, squirreling their weapons and mail shirts away underneath their benches, and their shields upon the ship's wide walls. It was filling up. Looking over his shoulder, Hrífa was pleased that, although most their "soldiers" were rather too thin, and a rare few sported distinctly feminine curves underneath their thick wintry clothes, none carried their criminality on their sleeves! Through their tattoos, their bone charms and copper runes, their sex and their station, he could only speculate as to their crimes; they deceived his eyes, appearing to him as normal as he. Of course, he had been warned, and by the chieftain's speech, no less, about this queer little dread which rattled at the back of his mind. Indeed, because Hrífa knew that some of these men and boys were sure to be outlaws, and níðingar, and drunkards and second sons and his fellow witches, subconsciously, down in his frail little heart, he wondered which men he could trust, and which would attempt to steal his salted fish. The Rat-eater had noticed as the crowds gathered at the shore that nothing had been stolen from the ship, but he recognized that this was not a purity of spirit which stayed men's hands, but rather, their fear of retribution. The village, and its broad-shouldered king, surely would not have tolerated such a transgression as that, in their urgent hour. While Hrífa pulled his oar out from beneath the benches, and petitioned Ásdís to help, Hralding meanwhile continued to sieve through the growing crew, searching for that man who was the most skilled and experienced among them, the man who would bear the great burden of helping him to raise and lower the Sjórheror's single sail. It was rolled up at that time, but with enough finesse and care poured into its handling, they could ride not the waves, but the winds, and spare themselves the callus-building drudgery or rowing for many pleasant hours. Suddenly the gangplank had been yanked away, threatening to fall overboard as it was pulled upon the deck. Hralding was not moved by the dejected and crestfallen faces of those on dry land who had been too late to cross it; neither did he acknowledge the worries and woes of the crew's families onshore. In fact he seemed to nothing nothing but his crew, and their instruments of war. "I'm not one for long speeches," he growled. "So turn to our left, and remember what you see. When your hands sting with salt and splinters, and your arms burn, and you're ready to give up—" he swept his arm out toward the village— "I want these to be the faces you remember. These are the people you are failing if you give up! All right. Let's get this ship moving."</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís turned obligingly to the left as she peered across the shore. Her own parents had not attended having said goodbye to their smallest daughter the night before. The redhead took this as a sign in their belief that she would succeed and turned away with a security in herself. A child would always believe she could be fruitful if only her parents told her so. For they knew much more than herself and how could they be wrong? Their assurance in her great deeds to come more premonition than hopeful wishing. Turning back to her companion the rush of confidence she felt was faltering already and they hadn't even left the beach line. "Do you think the splinters will be particularly bad?" She asked trying for light and teasing and falling short. More concerned and uncertain. The bright smile on her young face was at odds with the furrowing of her brow and the sidelong glances to their noble leader. His speed had indeed been short. It was always daunting when your day dreams were not being met. Of course Ásdís had always thought of the riveting speeches she'd give and receive. Sighing she tugged on the oar at the command to get the ship moving. Even with the witch at her side the motion was unfamiliar and tentative under her hands. Too much pressure and she was yanking the wood awkwardly against her companion, not enough and the oar was not really moving in time with it's companions. Soon Ásdís was consumed with the task and doing her best to perfect her technique while shooting furtive glances at Hralding in order to ensure he didn't know how terrible an oarsman she was. For Now. Ásdís assured herself shoving the plank away from herself and bumping elbows with Rat Eater. She'd improve, surely!</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties The ship was pushed off the dock by the people on that side of the ship, which was crudely and haphazardly rowed out a few hundred meters. Hralding dropped anchor, and began to speak to the crew about the fine art of carving speed from the waves with these their wooden chisels; he explained that everyone needed to row in unison, totally synchronized and harmonious to each other. He began to teach them their first rowing song, which would help them keep the beat with each other as they sang it. The lyrics regarded a man who, knowing that his lord was wanted by the king for crimes unpunished, cut off his lord's head and delivered it to his king, and then had his own head cut off for treason against his leader. Both men's heads were hung beside each other from the same city gate. Some of the sailors knew the song already, and their eyes glazed over as the novices caught up to their expertise. "It stops hurting after a week or two," Hrífa had said, though his own eyes had turned glassy long before these harangues began. He already knew how to sail, so he stared out disinterestedly over the vast, limitless horizon, wondering how far away was the edge of the world, and hoping perhaps to see a family of puffins darting around the rocks. Almost instinctively he rubbed his fingers together, and though he wore wool mittens, he knew his calluses had faded away long ago. He, too, would hurt. But it was a strangely soothing pain, a pain which spoke of the ship's progress. When a rower's hands seemed bitten by frost and friction, he knew he had worked hard that day. They were badges of honor, those patches of toughened skin. Nevertheless he hoped for a blessing. His oar was to be rowed by a young girl; and though he was a man, he was a scrawny one, withered away in his solitude. Hrífa hoped the ship would not lean with their weakness. He looked behind himself again, wondering if their half of the crew would compensate. The wind felt good and strong but for their sail to capture it, and bloat with its whispers, its direction would need to shift westward a time.</s> <\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed Ásdís had heard the song once or twice before but never in detail or length and never for the purpose of learning it herself. While the red head had a good memory and enjoyed singing as much as the next lass, the story itself was gruesome (albeit fair) and had Ásdís cringing from time to time as she fumbled over the words. If she were beheaded for being disloyal to her lord and yet loyal to her King Ásdís would at least hope her head wouldn't be set next to that of the person she had killed. And what a funny thought that was… How could someone at once be loyal and disloyal? Didn't that argue the definition of loyalty? And had the man been Loyal to himself? Loyal to his morals and codes? Did that even matter? Ásdís shook her head trying to clear it of such unusual and deep thoughts. What did it matter?! She was not in that position and likeliness was she'd never be, so why ponder uselessly after something that would never come to be? Disturbed by her bleak wonderings she was actually glad the rat eater had spoken, sharply looking over at him. Her hopes died quickly. But perhaps she could draw him into conversation…? "Oh good. It's not that I'm so vain or afraid of pain, so much as I am concerned the blisters would lessen my competency." Flushing at this she hurried to clarify. "Not that I won't work through the pain. I'll be an excellent rowing partner don't you worry…" Ásdís sighed as the boat rocked with a wave. Not out of the harbor and she was already behaving foolishly. Turning her green eyes to her companion she smiled forlornly. "Do you think if you were beheaded as the man in the song was, would you like your head to be placed beside that of your previous ruler who you beheaded yourself?"</s> <\|message\|>Mid to late forties Though he gave her a queer, sidelong glance, hurriedly Hrífa searched elsewhere for his answer, away in the distant clouds. If he was honest, he was searching for birds again. "Once my head has been cut, I probably won't much mind what happens to my body," he confessed in a hushed whisper, as though Hralding was on the other side of the ship, at the aft, steering the rudder, the witch saw no cause to disrupt his lessons. "If I do, I'd like to see it eaten." "By animals," he added clumsily, as if that was in doubt. But why not? Every tree-nut he ever ground to flour may have belonged to a mouse, who fancied the gaunt intruder rather like a towering thief likewise! Then all his life he had breathed air which belonged to terns and gulls, and gulped water which was the house of many fish. He was remorseless and really rather selfish in his taking of those things which his physiology demanded—unapologetic—but this came too with the stipulation of debt. Some day he hoped to return to the earth what he had borrowed, and rotting in a tomb, this was not possible; hanging from a king's gate, he was out of reach for all things but the ravens. He did not fancy that fate fair and just to the other critters who held him in their debt, the others he owed a pound of his flesh. What he loved about this place he called nature, and all its inhabitants, was that it obeyed its own laws, and these laws cared not for the whimsies of men, as men were encapsulated within these laws, and they too obeyed this code, even when they thought they rebelled against nature by erecting walls and hiding behind them, building keeps high into the sky to escape the floods, and pits deep in the earth to avoid the winds. Men's laws were just different. Hrífa obeyed them (most times) despite disagreeing with them; he knew well why Håkon deserved death at the hands of Þormóðr Karkr, and why the slave in turn was deemed a traitor: the dishonor of his treachery outweighed the heroics of his vigilantism. But who was a man to declare who "deserved" what? Who owned that infallible right to deliver his fellows to the afterlife? The world claimed its dues without fretting for these highfalutin abstracts, often enough. Supposedly wicked men lived and supposedly good ones fell like birch limbs to wicked axes. But eventually all men paid the same debt, and the witch, while not anticipating his day with any enthusiasm, also did not fear the time when his caught up with him. He would pay it gladly.</s>	<\|message\|>ÁSDÍS Bright Eyed "Eaten?" Ásdís repeated uncertainly. She hadn't much thought of her own death, it was foretold and it would happen when it would. So she hadn't considered much either what would happen to her remains. Now that she thought of it Ásdís was surprised that Hrífa wanted such a thing. Shouldn't he prefer his body to be burned? But at least he didn't want to be consumed by people. The red head couldn't trade seats at this point and it would be a fair awkward ride to their shared destiny if Hrífa wanted to be eaten by other people. Deciding silence was the best course she ducked her head and concentrated instead on rowing.</s>
<\|description\|>Nariah Stormblade Wears a full suit of armor and a helm. And her eyes are actually ice blue. Age: 22 Class: Warrior Skills: Swordplay, blocking, heavy armor, knows some blacksmithing and cooking Personality: She's a rather plucky kind of girl with the determined heart of a true warrior. Nariah stays dedicated to her cause and will fight tooth and nail to defend those she loves and holds dear to her. A bit challenged by her lack of knowledge (yes, she's a bit dumb), she tends to be folly when it comes to thinking logically, but that's not to say she is a complete idiot. What Nariah lacks in knowledge, she makes up for in bravery and compassion from the very depths of her heart. just like any rough and tumble warrior, she loves a good drink as much as she loves a good fight Brief Bio: Born in the snowy and pine covered mountain village of Dunenmer Hollow, Nariah was the daughter of Harken Stormblade, a former adventurer and the village's most esteemed blacksmith. She was a peculiar young lass. Her father would astound and amaze her greatly with tales of his many travels and endeavors, how he fought fearsome beasts and traversed vast and magical realms in his early days. So enthralled was the girl by the yearning for adventure, she would spend her many hours in the surrounding forests, swinging about a stick to the trees as if they were also terrifying monsters being slain by her sharp and powerful blade. Harken was amused by it, but he also saw that very spark in his daughter's eye that he once held, though he was fearful to let his only flesh and blood venture from the village. Nevertheless, he taught Nariah over the years all that he knew of being an adventurer, how to fight and defend herself should the need arise, and when it was best to retreat from battle. Nariah soon became a competent swordswoman under her father's guidance, and not to mention a proficient blacksmith herself, but still the man was afraid to let his daughter go. No matter how much Nariah persisted incessantly on her father letting her leave the village, Harken always gave her the same lecture, Ye are my only kin, and I am not going to let ye run off into danger, Nariah. Ye still have much to learn before I ever let ye venture from Dunenmer alone. The world is a far more sinister place, daughter. Having just a sword alone will not protect you." It was difficult for Nariah to grasp what her father meant, blame it on her whimsical mind, yet she understood one thing….her father still saw her as a young girl. But dammit, she could fight. She knew the way of the sword and the shield, but her father was just too damn stubborn to let her go. Sooner or later, the old man would have to. How else would Nariah learn to grow? Soon came the day a dreadful earthquake, with such rancorous horror, rattled violently the grounds about the quaint hollow and destroyed many homes. Blessed Tha'agorn no lives were lost in the chaos, but it was certain this was no ordinary tremor, neither was it the hammer of the mighty god of the forge crashing down upon the land. This was spawned of a great and immeasurable evil indeed so. The villagers, they feared for their lives and for those of their kin. Someone must venture out to the source of this madness and deal with it, they said, but Harken, in his gray age could not. It was just as Harken had feared, the burden had fallen...upon Nariah, as did the letter proclaim. Before he sent his daughter off with all of his love and his blessings, he forged for Nariah a sword and shield, worthy of even the finest warrior of the land, and he also crafted a suit of armor for her, and last but not least, a beautiful pendant which the village elder blessed with a protection spell. Finally, he said his goodbyes to his daughter. "Ye be safe now, and be sure to come back and see ye old man, ye hear me daughter?" Heartily he chuckled hugging tight his child, now a full grown woman and the most competent warrior of their village. She had a long journey ahead of her, and the challenges she faced were sure to be harrowing, but nevertheless, Nariah would face them head-on, for the sake of her village and....for the sake of her father. "Aye. I will father." She replied happily embracing the stout, old man. "I'll be sure to send word of me travels as well. Goodbye father." "Goodbye, me daughter....and Tha'agorn keep you safe." Weapon(s): A longsword and shield forged by her father. She also carries a small war axe as a backup. Equipment: A pendant of protection also forged for her by her father. She wears it at all times. She also carries a flask of mead and a whetstone for sharpening her sword. Also a blacksmithing hammer should the need arise. For the cold, she has a pelt made of wolf fur. Theme Music: Theme 1, Theme 2 Approved by the wonderful GMS @Ineffable & @Cloudystar</s> <\|message\|>Nariah Stormblade Hook, line, and sinker Nariah thought. The horned beauty swaggered over to her table, no effort at all hiding the lust in her eyes, and not much partnon Nariah's either, grinning ear to ear as the girl sat down. "Aye, not a problem there, lass!" Nariah chuckled. "Anything fer a lovely wench like ye. Indeed, a strange predicament we're in. Makes me think this whole thing was some crazy dream." A half drunken, lurid grin, she admired the beauty with deep, languid eyes. "So tell me, lass, where do ye and yer pretty friend over there hail from? I bet every gal there is just as lovely as ye two."</s> <\|message\|>Jameson Jameson was surprised by how they took the drinks down like they were just plain water, there's certainly more to these two than he thought. At least it was a sign that his drinks weren't half bad. Jameson flinched as he felt something brushing against his leg and realised that it was Ishia's tail, he looked at her and was greeted by a look that was quite familiar to him while passing through brothels in his travels. He shrugged it off with an innocent smile and rested his back on the chair, "Welcoming caves aren't exactly the most cozy" he thought to himself and chuckled. He heard Miya talking to him and turned towards her, "Miya is it? Quite a friend you've got there. I'm Jameson, don't mean to be rude but I take it that you're both not human?"</s> <\|message\|>Jameson [DELETED]</s> <\|message\|>Jack Grimn Jack groaned and stumbled through a portal. He had a cut directly above his left eye and a large gash on his forehead which he unsuccessfully tried to cover with the hood of his jacket. He sat down at the nearest table and took a roll of bandages. He wrapped it around his forehead and left eye. He raised his arm. "Could I get a bit of stew?" He unslung his quiver of arrows and leaned back in his chair.</s> <\|message\|>Ishia Narin ~Miya~ --- "Saika Miyano is my full name, But please, Miya will do fine." Her voice took a slightly strained sounding tone towards the end of the sentence, when she was asked a second question. Well, if the two small pointed horns on her forehead and by Ishia's tail and scales were anything to go by, they were definitely not. Not that it was particularly an issue...at least, it hadn't been in a while. Not since being exiled. She paused for a moment, trying to think of a way to approach this topic carefully and not work herself up too much over it. Taking another drink of what had been brought, she calmed herself. "Yes...I am an Oni," The blue-clad warrior didn't elaborate much more on that. There wasn't any need to give him more than was needed. He could ask Ishia for a story any time. "And Ishia is a beast-kin. That is not going to be a problem, is it?" As she sat the mug back down on the table, her tone took a slightly darker one towards the end of the question as she awaited a reply. This wasn't the empire, so she didn't particularly expect to face racism here, but she couldn't be too careful. ~Ishia~ --- Wench, eh? It had been awhile since she had been called that. Not that she minded of course. No need to get angry at being called something that you were. And she was about as much of a wench as wenches come. More importantly, the ravishing, strong lady across from her just asked her a rather interesting question. "Haa...Zin?" She slowly began, with a lazy sigh. Honestly, Ishia wanted to almost skip the small talk and get to the fun bits right there, but a little bit of foreplay never hurt. Besides, sharing a story with a pleasant and attractive stranger was always fun. Ishia leaned forward, resting her arms on the table with a chuckle. "Well, they certainly are pretty," Ishia started, dull blue eyes giving Nariah a half-lidded, lurid stare before continuing in a husky tone. "But heh, nothin' can compare to a Zin sunset during winter. With some Icefire Sake, a gentle snow and a cool breeze...haa, prettiest sight I ever saw." Off topic a bit? Definitely, but it was hard not to talk about things she had seen sometimes in her travels, and being slightly drunk and wanting to either ravish or be ravished by, the woman in front of her didn't make much of a difference. "Except maybe the strong lookin' woman in front of me," She chuckled playfully. She downed the last of the drink that had been brought for her. "That brought me the best present since miss ornery over there cut me off...I could go for another one, heh." Well, if anything Ishia wasn't known for her subtlety. "Wanna buy me another?"</s> <\|message\|>Quinton Ram Quinton --- Before Quinton goes to the newcomer he taps Jameson on the shoulder to give his warning. "A little warning before you do another rash thing. Never. Touch. Objects behind the bar without permission. There are other alcohols that seem familiar to whisky but are much stronger than your average drink. Therefore never do something like that again, otherwise I'll be forced to ask you to go attend another section of the Cafe far from the bar. I hope you all enjoy your time here and if you require aid, call for me." Quinton says that last part to everyone as he does one last bow. The Butler goes over to the new archer person and bows. He leaves for a moment to go quickly prefer a warm and above average soup for him to eat. Swiftl bringing it back, he bows once more to place it down. [color=lightsalmon]"Here you go sir, the name is Quinton. Welcome to the Cafe and I hope you enjoy your stay." @DriveEMOut@xChrome@Rusalka</s>	<\|message\|>Nariah Stormblade Nariah took another swig of her mug, feeling quite a buzz off the honey and hard liquor. She couldn't keep her eyes off the lovely dame before her, a smarmy grin with cheeks blushing bright. Hell, if anything she was practically undressing Ishia with her lurid gaze. "Aye, a pretty sight indeed, lass!" She gave a hearty chuckle, blushing even more at the beauty charming her with that silver tongue. Imagine what other things it could do. "But ye haven't lived till ye've seen the sunset from Chillrend Peak in the far north! Now there's a sight! A roaring fire and warm honey mead under those big red skies! Aye...brings back memories." Nariah sighed rather nostalgic, her smile faltering a bit before the lass asked for another round. Nariah perked up again in a roaring laugh, "Why sure, lass! Anything, for ye. However..." Her smirk turned quite suggestive to Ishia, gazing into those beautiful, shimmering eyes of hers, "I think yer lookin' fer more than a little whiskey hmm?" Nariah waggled her eyebrows scooting a little closer. This pretty sultry lass had her from the start.</s>
<\|description\|>Brunhilde Vigmundsdóttir Race: Human; Nordic. Occupation: Wind Elementalist. Problem solver for hire. Age: 27 Appearance: Brunhilde is tiny. Not quite dwarf-scale, but extremely small nonetheless, standing at 4'10" and weighing roughly 80 lbs. unladen. Her ice blue eyes appear to be somewhat unfocused, as if she's looking through the world instead of at it. Shortish auburn hair sits atop her head, clearly fairly recently trimmed - though not particularly well. She doesn't appear to take much care of her appearance beyond basic cleanliness, which suits her just fine. Her figure is mostly obscured by an incomplete patchwork set of leather armor and a thick steel gorget - all of which are damaged by deep scratches and burns. Beneath the armor is a simple set of late medieval style clothing as is the style in her homeland. When not wearing gloves, a faded tattoo is visible on the back of each hand - a message atop a white spiral. The left states, "I have amnesia.", and the right states, "Check the journal." Speaking of journals - she carries an enormous book in her left arm at almost all times. The cover is plated with thick steel, embossed with her name and the year of the first entry. A blank space is left for entering the year of the final entry, when the journal is eventually filled. Gender: Female Background/History: Brunhilde is from an island to the far north, somewhere between Greenland and Nunavut. The total population of the island was under a thousand, and despite being a Danish province according to their history books, they have neither been taxed nor acknowledged by Denmark for several hundreds of years, and the assumption is that they were forgotten shortly after colonization. The population is a mixture of Danes and Inuit. Her childhood was a good one, if a strange one by modern standards, as limited communication with the rest of the world has given access to both modern technology and a lack of access to modern culture and building techniques. As such, her hometown governed itself not unlike a medieval city-state. Her own home was a patch of farmland just a couple miles away from the main village, and her family raised Highland cattle with the help of some local assistants - not all of whom were competent. At 6, she manifested elemental manipulation skills, and her family, fearing ostracization and persecution by the locals, sent her to take martial arts lessons from the only self defense teacher on the island. She dropped out of the class some months before the exam to receive the equivalent of a black belt, out of lack of interest. At 10, she was struck in the head by a rampaging cow while working in the field. One of the farmhands had consistently failed to identify the symptoms of mad cow disease for months, and the condition of the cow had been unknown. Miraculously, Brunhilde survived having her skull cratered by a large animal, but she didn't fully recover - her hypothalamus, pituitary gland, and oculomotor nerves were damaged to varying degrees, with light damage to the entire rest of the front and midbrain. She lost the ability to form new episodic memory, and human growth hormone secretions were severely limited. Her family was, despite being predominantly made up of farmers, able to afford treatment by a psychologist and a neurologist, which eased her transition into her new life with the help of an autobiographical journal. At 17, her nature as an elementalist was discovered by the locals, and she was tried as a witch. In the absence of any other crimes committed, she was sentenced not to imprisonment or execution, but to banishment - and was sent by her family to the only place known to accept people with such magical abilities. For three years she stayed at what was only referred to as The Academy, studying under headmaster Kano Hargor's staff with the intent of attaining full control of her skills as an air manipulator. Her memory difficulties made it troublesome to remember the results of lessons and homework, but friends at the Academy helped keep her moving forwards. Much of the training was with the intention of handling the ever increasing threat of Elementals, which had begun to leak into the physical plane to cause mayhem. After her departure from the Academy, she spent much of her time wandering from place to place, 'dealing with' elementals of various sorts. At 24, she met a strange man who appeared to have fallen out of time itself: Arturo da Venezia. A mute, Arturo was initially difficult to understand, but eventually they discovered that they shared a love of writing and art. Arturo himself was effectively an apprentice wizard, or so he claimed - and his own magical skills appeared to back up his claim. He decided to make himself useful as Brunhilde's aide and apprentice, despite not being of the same families of sorcery. At 25 through late 26, Brunhilde's brain damage had finally repaired itself sufficiently to almost function correctly. Brunhilde is still extremely forgetful and somewhat absent-minded, but her ability to remember people has returned in full, and major events stick with her again. She is, midway through 27, still trying to adjust to not having to reread every journal entry for a week to be able to know basic information about where and when she is. Likes: The sciences. Anatomy and physics in particular - the spaces in her journal which aren't dedicated to biography are dedicated to detailed artwork of her observations and her inventions, none of which have ever been successfully constructed to this date. Races. Quiet. Food. Beef especially. Fighting equal opponents. Dislikes: Cattle. Fuck cattle. She despises cattle to her core, though this hatred is irrational and she knows it. Neglectful animal owners. Having to defend herself against sentient creatures. Skills: Atmospheric manipulation in general. Her focus is mostly on macromanipulation, but she also is knowledgeable in manipulation of individual molecules. For the most part, her elemental manipulation is limited to natural Earthborne atmospheric gases. Water, technically being a simple mixture of oxygen and hydrogen, should be possible to manipulate, but attempting to do so has consistently and violently caused rejection. As a near master level Air elementalist, she is capable of supporting up to twenty times her own bodyweight for up to an hour, or her own bodyweight indefinitely. Her range of finer manipulation - predominantly offensive tactics - is limited to moving air within fifty meters, or a bit over half of a football field. In somewhat greater depth... She is capable of hovering or flying, though flying takes not-insignificant concentration. Creating large gusts of wind is child's-play to her. Cyclones, pressurized air, localized vacuums, and other such specific motions are easy by this point, though she isn't quite capable of causing anything on the scale of even a small tornado without abusing an alternate energy source. She has, in the past, successfully cloven boulders and trees with precision application of high pressure winds. Her manipulation relies upon either putting energy into the air herself, or on abusing already existing energy in the air. Cold air is harder to move, but hot air - particularly air heated by fire, electricity, or lava - is extremely easy. The hotter, the better. Unlike Arturo, her talents do not require incantations or hand motions or spell components, and can be conjured at will from any point within her sphere of influence on the spur of the moment. Her ability to manipulate the atmosphere partially requires being able to feel the movements of the atmosphere at every point within her sphere of influence. As such, she is able to feel the motions of other things long before she sees them. Her airsense grows duller with distance. Personality: Confident, but not arrogant. Completely oblivious to romantic advances. Terrified of actually killing anybody, but unafraid of defending herself. A little bit on the inconsiderate side sometimes. Easily excited by new discoveries and theories, with a habit of rambling to herself and pacing when exposed to exploitable information. Brunhilde is aware of potential ulterior motives, but tends to be overly trusting nonetheless. She is violently protective of herself, her friends, and her important possessions. Name: Arturo da Venezia Race: Human; Mediterranean. Occupation: Arsonist. 8th level Sorcerer. Age: 25 Appearance: Arturo is enormous. Standing at 6'4" and nearly 300 lbs. of muscle, he would be easy to mistake for a Kodiak bear if it weren't for his lack of fur and snout. His physical features are obscured by his bizarre outfit, though, which appears to be a Fire Proximity suit fashioned vaguely into the shapes and colors of mid-period Italian renaissance garb. The visor on his headwear is difficult to see through, though under intense light, he can be seen to be a relatively attractive man for his bulk, with clean, sharp features and near perfect symmetry. On his back is a fuel tank, with a pressure gauge reading at roughly 160 PSI. The fuel tank's hose leads to a compact flamethrower consisting of a series of tubes and a high capacity battery - indicating that the fuel stream is ignited electrically. Strapped into a back holster next to the napalm thrower is a red and yellow fire axe. Gender: Male Background: Unknown. Doesn't like to tell others about it, and doesn't keep a diary. Allegedly, a wizard was involved in a wicked plot in 16th century Venice, resulting in Arturo's displacement to the current time. Claims to have no family. Brunhilde hasn't ever seen a reason to press him on his past either, considering that she has difficulty remembering her own. Brunhilde discovered him setting fire to a rampaging plant elemental she had been hired to remove from the area outside of Milan, Italy. She was unable to take care of the creature herself before Arturo's flames burnt it to ash. They quickly identified eachother as magic users, and Arturo instinctively knew that this was a person he did not want to try to burn, for his own safety. Instead, he chose to follow her, not thinking to try to start a conversation until after seeing her writing in her journal for the first time - at which point he promptly snatched the book and pen to write 'Hello.' Despite Brunhilde's initial anger at his defilement of the book, the two quickly became friends of a sort, although Brunhilde made it very clear that he was not to intentionally cause any property damage while they traveled together. Arturo promised to keep his pyromania in check on the condition that Brunhilde promised to teach him how to use his limited magic skills. Despite her inability to advise him on his style of sorcery, she has been able to guide him in his attempts to discover his own talents. Likes: Fire. Dislikes: No fire. Skills: He is not yet able to adequately sustain his predominantly fire-based magics as a Sorcerer, so he supplements with a flamethrower and an axe. His fuel of choice is an extremely hot-burning variant of napalm, the formula to which is known only to him. Finely powdered elemental Magnesium is suspected to be a primary ingredient, judging by the sparks present and the extremely bright flames. He is not a fast runner, which he generally works around in combat these days via his twice-daily potential usage of Dimension Door. Current spell list: 0 (∞): Create Bonfire, Mending, Fire Bolt, Control Flames, Prestidigitation 1 (4): Burning Hands, Shield 2 (3): Aganazzar's Scorcher, Pyrotechnics, See Invisibility, Detect Thoughts 3 (3): Fireball 4 (2): Wall of Fire, Dimension Door Personality: He keeps his inner thoughts hidden, and his facial expressions are obscured by the visor. However, he seems to be very protective of Brunhilde. He also seems to consider most other people to be little more than kindling, with the exception of those he knows for a fact can and will put him down if he tries. When let off his leash, he quickly begins setting fire to everything in sight, and requires the intervention of someone he respects to avoid burning down half the city or otherwise getting himself killed. Thankfully, nobody is usually stupid enough to give him permission to go wild. To keep his pyromania in check, he plays with lighters or candles when he has the chance. App approved by @cloudystar~</s> <\|message\|>Brunhilde Vigmundsdóttir The large pyromancer simply shrugs and lets himself in, nodding at the offer of water. He doesn't indicate that he wants much of anything else, but rather, points to Brunhilde and pantomimes speaking with his free hand as though it's her job to do the talking. There's no reaction to the quick wipedown. A glance around the room reveals some other patrons lounging and standing about, as well as a healthy number of empty tables and chairs. Arturo hastily walks over to a seat and dumps Brunhilde's unconscious body into it. He, however, stays standing.</s> <\|message\|>Quinton Ram Quinton --- Quinton nods his head and heads over to the bar to quickly retrieve a glass of water. He brings it over to the large silent man and does a polite bow as he sets it in front of him. Then he looks at the very small lady and tilts his head curiously. Without hesitation, he does a quick body check-up to check her condition. Going rather quickly over the check-up so she or her friend wouldn't be too disturbed with Quinton putting his hands on her, he goes back to the side of the bar to make a quick brew of sorts. This brew wasn't meant for drinking but thanks to the chemicals put inside it, it was known to wake someone up from exhaustion or knocked out. Gently edging it underneath her nose, he waits patiently for her to wake up. "Sorry for doing this without your permission sir, I as a gentleman cannot leave a woman in distress such as your friend here unconscious at a bar. If I was unable to pay attention or yourself, who knows what kind of villain would take her away? Best if she wakes up now and catches a good understanding of her current situation at least before going into rest." (@Azereiah)</s>	<\|message\|>Brunhilde Vigmundsdóttir Arturo takes the water and, while Quinton is preparing the brew, swiftly dumps it on Brunhilde's head to wake her up. It doesn't work, and now Brunhilde is unconscious and soaked, rather than just unconscious. Arturo lightly slaps her as a last ditch effort to awaken her, and is rewarded with a reflexive kick to the shin. He groans in frustration and hops over to the seat across the table when Quinton returns. The Butler uses quite a few fancy words, which Arturo likes, though he doesn't completely understand everything. Quinton seems to him to be competent enough, and he allows him to try to treat Brunhilde. The fumes from the concoction jolt Brunhilde awake some ten seconds after initial exposure. She almost falls out of the seat the instant she awakens. The scent of smoke hits her again, and she thrusts all oxygen away from her body instinctively to smother the nonexistant fire, almost losing consciousness again in the process. Being out for a few minutes hasn't exactly done her much good, it seems. The air remixes itself again as she gasps for breath. She looks to Arturo, who isn't exactly the best communicator. She then looks to Quinton and identifies the smell of ammonium carbonate emanating from the glass in his hand, which she assumes brought her back to consciousness. "Thanks. I think. Where are we, and who are you?"</s>
<\|description\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) Age: 28 Class: Fighter/Captain Gender: Male Race: Human Appearance: Raikon is a tall, well built man. Standing at 6'2" and weighing 220lbs he is an imposing figure to behold while on the battlefield. His intimidating size is mitigated by a very kind face, constant genuine smile, and expressive green eyes. He has bright red hair cut short on the sides and left slightly longer on top, with side burns that connect to his beard, which is well kept and trimmed. His hands and forearms are marked by a smattering of scars from years of battle, others, more serious, are hidden under his armor and clothing. Character Perk: Optimistic Leader- Raikon tries to see the best in everything, and always finds a ray of hope to guide him. He inspires his comrades to action, providing a resistance to intimidation, fear, and mental spell effects to them and himself. Character Flaw: Sore Loser- When things don't go his way Raikon can have a hard time letting go, often trying to gain victory even when defeat is already assured. Others will have to force him to stand down, even if it means injury or death. ---------- Alignment: Chaotic Good STR: 16 DEX: 12 CON: 14 INT: 10 WIS: 12 CHA: 14 Abilities: Unshakable- Raikon is an experienced veteran and does not lose his composure in the midst of battle. He cannot be flanked unless it is from behind. Quick Draw- Raikon can switch between his weapons and shield almost instantly, never losing a step in battle. Last Stand- If Raikon were to receive a mortal blow, he may take one last offensive action before becoming incapacitated. Skills: Diplomacy (60) Intimidate (20) Sense Motive (60) Perception (40) Survival (20) Spells: Raikon has no inherent magical ability. Armor: Raikon wears a padded undershirt, chainmail armor, and a belted, hard dark leather tunic. His hands are protected by thick leather gloves which match his rough leather boots. Chainmail hosen are held tightly to his legs with strap and belts to maximize mobility and protection. Weapons: His weaponry is varied with a javelin on his back, long shining steel sword strapped to his left hip, and a round steel shield hanging from his right. He also carries two sharp daggers tucked between his weapon belts. Items/Misc: Raikon carries a backpack with various supplies including a 20ft coil of rope, tinder and firebox, maintenance gear such as whet stones and oil, rations and a water skin, thin wire, a bedroll, oiled tarp and waterproof cloak. He also has a collapsible oil lantern and basic medical supplies: A needle, thread, bandages, and herbs to fight back infection. Biography: In the capital city of the kingdom Mejise, in a small two room hut, a young boy with hair like fire learned a very early lesson about life and death. As his father beat his mother senseless on the floor of their shack, a young Raikon Delnai learned that often times there will be no one there to help you, and that sometimes to protect one you must kill another. Raikon took his fathers sword and struck him through the side, instantly killing him and saving his mother. Free of his wickedness, his mother guided Raikon along a path of gentleness, teaching him to use his strength and courage to protect others, and to always be a careful, loving man. The lessons were reforged and refined many times as Raikon grew to adulthood. He joined the military at 16 to protect his mother and city from enemy invasion. The empire of Burena had become greedy, and had lashed out on the independent provinces at her border, intent on gaining land and strength. As the battles went on, the trials of his position forged iron bands around his heart. He proved himself to be a capable warrior and effective leader, eventually gaining the ear of the generals around him. He continued to learn: to command, to inspire. As the war went on from months to years, and it was looking as though it would go on forever, he learned that sometimes it takes only one person standing fast for just a moment longer to make a difference, and that he could be that person. In the final battle for Mejise, his comrades had nearly all fallen to the hands of the Burean military. The few survivors were hiding behind the walls, waiting for the enemy to finish their breach, and storm the final stronghold. Raikon fought along the battlements alone, taking down the enemy archers who had managed to entrench themselves. With the way clear, he descended into the courtyard, and began to barricade the final door alone. It wouldn't have been enough, but his courage inspired those around him, and more men felt the fire relight in their hearts. They continued fighting the enemy off until, finally, Burena retreated and the castle held. The tide had turned, and a year later the war was won. Raikon had aged into a fine commander, and under his leadership Mejise rebuilt their fortifications, reworked alliances, and found a time of safety once again. But it wasn't long before Burena became hungry once more. With the enemy military mobilizing, Raikon and a small band of like minded mercenaries came together, marching to offer their services to defend the independent nations of the free Eastern lands.</s> <\|message\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) The large man unconscious to the left of the door was the first to stir. He groaned quietly, his voice muffled by the soft moss his face rested against. His eyes fluttered open slowly, and he groaned again rolling first onto his side, and then his back. He raised a large gloved hand to blot the sun from his eyes, and frowned quizzically. He didn't recognize this place. Raikon slowly raised into a sitting position, resting his weight on one arm, the other hand still blocking the sun from his sleep filled eyes. "Joshua? Hector?" His voice was thick in his throat, and quiet. He coughed into his hand, squinting into the sunlight, and looks around once more. He remembered they were celebrating. Many of them, Joshua, Hector, Kayle, his whole band had been there. They had just received word of the full retreat of all Burean forces from the peninsula, and Alcuin had been kept free of their grasp. They had been fighting for three weeks with almost no rest, their morale had dwindled to a candle flame. But they outlasted the enemy and had prevented their resupply, allowing for a reprieve, and a chance to bolster their defenses to prevent another attack. The celebration was fierce and well earned. Friends had been lost, and many of his comrades had held their grief until the end. They had a chance to let their emotions flow freely along with the mead. He had drank plenty on his own, and his memories grew hazy as the night went on. But he remembered being carried on a shoulder to his bed in the Gnarled Pine, laughing and swaying and singing. This place was not The Gnarled Pine. He looked at the other bodies on the ground around him and lifted himself to stand on shaky legs. He realized he was still dressed in all of his armor, and his body was sore in many places, screaming at the pressure points from the belts and gear strapped to his chest and hips. He could tell this place was ancient, and his mind swirled trying to recreate the steps he had taken back to the inn. He had made it back to his room, hadn't he? Who had helped him back? The back of his head throbbed and he shielded his eyes from the sunlight again, frustrated. He looked at the bodies again. They were breathing, alive, just unconscious or asleep. He didn't recognize them, and started to walk closer to the young blonde man closest to him. He took in the room once more as he crouched down. The building they were in looked ancient. He had seen overgrown ruins before, but nothing like this. The place almost vibrated with a force unknown to him, and he swallowed back his fear. He reached down and grasped the shoulder of the slender man next to him, shaking gently. "Hey, you. Wake up, would you?"</s> <\|message\|>Caspian Fleiyril "-ou. Wake up, would you?" He didn't know that voice, was Caspian's first thought. He had always been a light sleeper, so there was usually no need for someone to go further than a verbal request. Breathing in deeply, he slowly opened his eyes to peer at whoever it was that wanted him awake. His mind was blank then, sleepiness fogging his thoughts. His vision still blurry at first glance, he moved to rub his eyes, coming aware of the the slight soreness all over his body. It was a familiar feeling. It was as if he had slept on hard floor, and his hands pressing upon the hard grounds proved it to be true. It had been awhile since he last slept on something that isn't a bed. Disoriented, he slightly narrowed his eyes confusedly at the unfamiliar larger man before him. Was the man a new companion? In all his life, there was only one person he knew who had red hair. Albeit, his best friend's hair was a tad brighter, almost like fire. At the thought of his friend, he immediately turned to look around him, searching for another red head almost frantically. A small feeling of panic started to blossom deep within when he failed to see anyone he knew at all, like a heartburn he was trying hard to not acknowledge. Moreover, he vividly remembered that they were still in a city then. Kalakyth was a city of smoke and suffocating hot air that distinctly smelled of burning soil, cigar and liquor. It bore absolutely no resemblance to the refreshing green around him. He could almost still taste the awful mead that he spat after taking an experimental sip from his friend's flask. Yes. He had a clear recollection of where and what he was doing. They were in Kalakyth because of a stop over, and their group chose to spent the night in the awful city of dark skies and smokey air over sleeping underneath the stars in the forest miles away. Kalakyth was located in the foot of a mountain that once had thousands of trees, with its incessant mining and pollution. From a distance, it looks like a black splotch. They were walking, he remembered, when he asked to take a sip from his friend's flask. They were leaving the city. What happened then? He knew he could remember if he just thought a lot harder. A place like the one around him was not something they could have found anywhere near Kalakyth. The disgusting men of that city wouldn't have let something as unnaturally pure and fresh go untainted. Caspian tried not to think too deeply, truly. His thoughts were swirling violently into directions he didn't want to it to go, and he was actively avoiding the panic that was surely a layer just beneath his calmness and confusion. Breathe deeply, focus. It wouldn't do well for him to panic. Perhaps he was not in a safe place, perhaps he was. He forcefully brushed it all off, and breathed in deeply as he pushed himself to get up. It was colder, he realized, and he unconsciously tugged on his cloak. He felt around his body to feel if he still had his things. He did. "What is this place?" He asked, his fingers tugging on the neckline of his shirt that felt a bit suffocating - a nervous habit of his. He stood too close to the larger and unfamiliar man, so he nervously took a step back, eyes flickering at the man's appearance. Older, larger and most probably stronger. Bigger people made him nervous. The look on the faces didn't matter. His friends taught him that people with kind faces could merely be better in hiding secrets and trickery. Granted, the men he calls friends trusted no one but the ones in their group only. They made him paranoid, too. "Who are you?" And who are the men around them, and where was he, and just where were his friends? Where was Ni-. He exhaled, thinking about the fact that he shouldn't dwell on things that aren't currently in the present. The first thing was that he should look for familiar things, but nothing seemed familiar at the moment because he was still trying to clear his mind. Nothing was familiar and it didn't make sense.</s>	<\|message\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) Raikon let the slender man look around and get his bearings, and took the chance to look him over. He didn't appear injured, or to know anything about this... temple, or whatever it was; that or he was a decent actor. He was armed with a dagger, wore simple clothes. He didn't look familiar at all, and the pendant he wore was of a style the traveled warrior hadn't seen before. The blonde man took a step back and Raikon obliged, allowing him the space. "I don't know where or what this place is. I was hoping you would tell me." He tried to remember more of the night before, now that the warm air and movement had cleared his mind a little. Everything was very hazy from when he left the meeting hall. He remembered someone helping him down the street. He had asked to go back to the inn, the Gnarled Pine. But he didn't remember making it to his bed. There was something else, they had gone somewhere... But the memory remained evasive. He looked down at the other unconscious bodies, pondering if he should wake them as well. "My name is Raikon Delnai, I have no idea how I got here." He glanced back over to the man shifting nervously beside him. "Stay calm, it doesn't look like we're in any immediate danger. Can you tell me who you are?" He recognized the look of contained panic, something he had seen in many before a battle. He hoped there wouldn't be a battle. Raikon walked over to one of the other bodies and knelt down. He pushed the hood back and frowned. A woman, an elf at that. That made him more nervous. The only elves he had encountered had put two arrows into him, and he wasn't keen on repeating the experience. He noticed the bow, quiver of arrows and well worn daggers and decided this one could stay asleep a while longer. He stood up carefully and stepped away.</s>
<\|description\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) Age: 28 Class: Fighter/Captain Gender: Male Race: Human Appearance: Raikon is a tall, well built man. Standing at 6'2" and weighing 220lbs he is an imposing figure to behold while on the battlefield. His intimidating size is mitigated by a very kind face, constant genuine smile, and expressive green eyes. He has bright red hair cut short on the sides and left slightly longer on top, with side burns that connect to his beard, which is well kept and trimmed. His hands and forearms are marked by a smattering of scars from years of battle, others, more serious, are hidden under his armor and clothing. Character Perk: Optimistic Leader- Raikon tries to see the best in everything, and always finds a ray of hope to guide him. He inspires his comrades to action, providing a resistance to intimidation, fear, and mental spell effects to them and himself. Character Flaw: Sore Loser- When things don't go his way Raikon can have a hard time letting go, often trying to gain victory even when defeat is already assured. Others will have to force him to stand down, even if it means injury or death. ---------- Alignment: Chaotic Good STR: 16 DEX: 12 CON: 14 INT: 10 WIS: 12 CHA: 14 Abilities: Unshakable- Raikon is an experienced veteran and does not lose his composure in the midst of battle. He cannot be flanked unless it is from behind. Quick Draw- Raikon can switch between his weapons and shield almost instantly, never losing a step in battle. Last Stand- If Raikon were to receive a mortal blow, he may take one last offensive action before becoming incapacitated. Skills: Diplomacy (60) Intimidate (20) Sense Motive (60) Perception (40) Survival (20) Spells: Raikon has no inherent magical ability. Armor: Raikon wears a padded undershirt, chainmail armor, and a belted, hard dark leather tunic. His hands are protected by thick leather gloves which match his rough leather boots. Chainmail hosen are held tightly to his legs with strap and belts to maximize mobility and protection. Weapons: His weaponry is varied with a javelin on his back, long shining steel sword strapped to his left hip, and a round steel shield hanging from his right. He also carries two sharp daggers tucked between his weapon belts. Items/Misc: Raikon carries a backpack with various supplies including a 20ft coil of rope, tinder and firebox, maintenance gear such as whet stones and oil, rations and a water skin, thin wire, a bedroll, oiled tarp and waterproof cloak. He also has a collapsible oil lantern and basic medical supplies: A needle, thread, bandages, and herbs to fight back infection. Biography: In the capital city of the kingdom Mejise, in a small two room hut, a young boy with hair like fire learned a very early lesson about life and death. As his father beat his mother senseless on the floor of their shack, a young Raikon Delnai learned that often times there will be no one there to help you, and that sometimes to protect one you must kill another. Raikon took his fathers sword and struck him through the side, instantly killing him and saving his mother. Free of his wickedness, his mother guided Raikon along a path of gentleness, teaching him to use his strength and courage to protect others, and to always be a careful, loving man. The lessons were reforged and refined many times as Raikon grew to adulthood. He joined the military at 16 to protect his mother and city from enemy invasion. The empire of Burena had become greedy, and had lashed out on the independent provinces at her border, intent on gaining land and strength. As the battles went on, the trials of his position forged iron bands around his heart. He proved himself to be a capable warrior and effective leader, eventually gaining the ear of the generals around him. He continued to learn: to command, to inspire. As the war went on from months to years, and it was looking as though it would go on forever, he learned that sometimes it takes only one person standing fast for just a moment longer to make a difference, and that he could be that person. In the final battle for Mejise, his comrades had nearly all fallen to the hands of the Burean military. The few survivors were hiding behind the walls, waiting for the enemy to finish their breach, and storm the final stronghold. Raikon fought along the battlements alone, taking down the enemy archers who had managed to entrench themselves. With the way clear, he descended into the courtyard, and began to barricade the final door alone. It wouldn't have been enough, but his courage inspired those around him, and more men felt the fire relight in their hearts. They continued fighting the enemy off until, finally, Burena retreated and the castle held. The tide had turned, and a year later the war was won. Raikon had aged into a fine commander, and under his leadership Mejise rebuilt their fortifications, reworked alliances, and found a time of safety once again. But it wasn't long before Burena became hungry once more. With the enemy military mobilizing, Raikon and a small band of like minded mercenaries came together, marching to offer their services to defend the independent nations of the free Eastern lands.</s> <\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston At a minimum, the other people there appeared equally confused and did not appear openly hostile. That was a good sign. They'd also come from far away, which meant that Dacheus was probably not at fault for bringing them here. Probably. Then how did we get here? With the immediate "Am I going to get stabbed?" concerns dealt with, the mage turned his attention to his surroundings once more. Figuring out where he was would be a good start. Dacheus turned and walked toward one of the windows without taking the time to introduce himself. Outside were mountains, covered in snow and ice. Wait, what the hell? He looked around the room, held out his hand to the air. No wind, warm, greenery, running water. He looked outside again. Freezing cold. Was it merely an illusion? He walked up to a large, open window and hopped into it, leaning outside. The wind whipped around his head, stinging his cheeks. He quickly retreated and touched his face; the snow in his beard was quite real. Then is this room the false one? No, no. I checked. He rubbed the spot on his head and confirmed that he had indeed hit himself with a rock. And the snow and ice outside… that's real too. Which means… There were a few possible explanations. They might not be in the mountains at all, but every window was a portal to a frozen realm. Unlikely, but possible. More likely, they were in the mountains, but there was some sort of barrier keeping the cold out and the warmth in. He began an arcane inspection of the windows, watching the way the magic seemed to ripple as he moved his hand out into the cold and pulled it back. "What a fascinating little barrier…" he mused. It somehow allowed him to move through it while minimizing airflow, preventing the freezing wind from blasting through the great hall. He stepped back and dashed to the next window, looking for the same thing. "This is so neat! Put one of these in the door of your house and never deal with winter drafts again! Why, this could revolutionize the principles of construction even in temperate realms, let alone cold ones!" He dashed to the next window. "But how on earth does it work…"</s> <\|message\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) He turned back and looked at the man named Caspian as he introduced himself, nodding his head in a short bow. He frowned and thought back to the places he'd been. "Its nice to meet you Caspian. Kalakyth, Where is that? I've been all over the eastern lands, I've never heard of the place." He grumbled, scratching the back of his head, "Where in the world are we?" He spun around quickly, his hand reaching to his sword out of habit, as he heard the newcomer call out to them. When he saw the man had stayed a good distance away and appeared relatively unarmed he relaxed, letting his hand back down to his side. Caspian answered before he could, and the man seemed to lose interest almost instantly and started mumbling to himself and wandering around. An elf and... whoever that was. He sighed and shook his head, feeling a dark weight start to form in the pit of his stomach. He watched the newcomer walk over to the window. He could hear the man talking about something but couldn't make out the words as he hadn't followed. But he saw the jacketed figure reaching and peering out the window and his gaze followed. He could see the icy mountains beyond, the frost and icicles clinging to the window ledge. The dark feeling grew. Magic, something he had no experience with and never understood. Raikon glanced back over to the short blonde next to him, wondering what secrets he may be hiding as well. He felt oddly out of place, which only compounded the feeling of confusion that was building within him. He took two slow breaths and set his jaw, remembering to focus only on what was important. He looked around for supplies and signs of activity. First he had to make sure they were safe, and took advantage of everything possible. He saw the cloak on the steps, broken casks of what could have been ale or mead long ago. None of that was useful. With the growth being undisturbed it looked as though the four of them were the first to be in this place in as long as they had been alive, probably longer. He shivered with unease, and turned to look at the statues. He didn't recognize the construction, everything looked ancient. His eyes moved up to the giant red ruby, or whatever it was being held by the center statue. The back of his head throbbed, and he remembered for a moment deciding to pray at the temple before going back to the inn, pray for their lost comrades. He remembered a great red stone. Everything else was a hazy mess. His eyes looked down to just above the statue, and he wondered if he could climb up, or get someone else to reach the small wooden rails he could see positioned there. Raikon looked back to the dark haired man pondering at the window. He seemed to have an interest in the magic of this place, and Raikon wondered whether the gem or his memory would mean anything to the fellow. He looked over to Caspian and held out a hand. "I'll be right back," and then walked over to the steps. He called out to the other man at the window, "You there! Come here for a moment. What do you make of this gemstone?"</s> <\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston Dacheus moved his hands through the barrier several more times, watching them and the subtle ripples in the air around them. "Oh, that's… huh. I wonder…" He continued muttering to himself as he pulled his spellbook from its pouch and started reading, comparing what he had written with what he was seeing. "Oooh, that's interesting. But it's… no, wait." He continued his myopic inspection of the windows until someone interrupted him. He turned and looked over the shoulder as if annoyed. Oh wait. Other people. Probably gotta deal with them, they don't know why we're here either. He turned back to his book and took a breath. They're not enemies yet. They're lost too. We should try to work together. Then he tucked his book under his arm and turned back toward the larger man standing by the statue. "Oh, yes! I should have a look at that, shouldn't I?" he answered, walking quickly -- almost skipping -- across the room. There was simply so much to see and to try to understand, even if he was stranded in a strange place with no idea how he'd gotten there or how to leave, he was still visibly excited. He came to a stop at the base of the statue and looked up at the stone. "Well, it's big and red. Gems don't usually get that big though, so it's probably magical," he said, thinking aloud. He opened the tome he carried once more and flipped through it, glancing between the book and the stone, back and forth several times. "Yeah, magical… and I think I've seen that… yes!" The book stopped on a page with a teleportation spell. He stared at the stone and then at the page, twirling his fingers in the air in some sort of pattern. "Yes, that it's. Teleportation of some kind, has to be. Probably what brought us here, although I can't say that for certain." He shut the book again and smiled in satisfaction as he looked up at it. "I'll need a closer look to be sure…" After a few seconds he stopped and turned to the green-eyed man next to him. "What's your name, by the way? I'm Dacheus. I'm a mage," he said, glancing down at the spellbook in his hand. "But I guess that's obvious."</s>	<\|message\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) He looked down at the man's hand, pausing for only a moment. The word mage circled meaninglessly in his head. He had heard the word before, but not in any ways he could have applied to a person or title. More like forces of nature, destructive unknowns. He resisted a shudder and took the mans hand, shaking it eagerly. "Captain Raikon Delnai of the Unserving Band. Pleasure to meet you, Dacheus." He remembered back when his mother used to tell him stories. Of mages waging wars and bringing ruin to the land. Beings of strife and chaos she called them, harbingers of the Gods and the embodiment of their fury. They had been spoken of like demons, but the man who stood before him looked nothing like what he had imagined as a boy. He wasn't shrouded in fire, or wielding a sword made of glass with the soul of a king trapped inside. His mouth twitched, uncertainty filling his mind. He looked back at the statue for a moment, the feeling in the pit of his stomach expanding outward to fill his chest. He didn't know anything about this, and felt completely unprepared. He swallowed loudly and nodded towards the statue before turning back to face Dacheus, "I saw some railings near the top. I figure if you stood on my shoulders you may be able to reach them to steady yourself." His eyes narrowed, "Just... be careful. I don't think I like this thing. I remember something about it, before waking up here. At least I think so, I was fairly drunk at the time."</s>
<\|description\|>Caspian Fleiyril General Information Age: 25 years old. Class: Cleric Gender: Male Length(in meters): 1.70 Race: Human Character Perk: Focus. Impossible to interrupt while casting in combat. Character Flaw: Has disadvantages in actions while not in the presence of a friendly part member within seeing distance. Appearance: Caspian's features lean slightly towards feminine, as unlike most men, he hadn't developed evident muscles and also lacks a strong jawline. He's a bit lanky, but not exactly too thin. He's on the pale side too, with light blonde hair that barely reaches his shoulders, and vivid green eyes that almost seems luminous. His lips often naturally quirk into a light smile, and generally has a trust worthy physique – as he doesn't really look very threatening. Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Stats STR(Strength) = 9 DEX(Dexterity) = 12 CON(Constitution) = 9 INT(Intelligence) = 12 WIS(Wisdom) = 18 CHR(Charisma) = 14 Skills: Alchemy [50] Heal [50] - The ability to help someone recover from wounds or debilitating conditions, including disease, without the use of spells. Survival [50] - Skill dealing with living off the land. Streetwise [20] - Skill concerning being 'smart' in the streets, finding information, and avoiding dangers. Diplomacy [25] Abilities: Aura of healing [10-20] - When this aura is cast, magical healing energiesn is concentrated and focused to affect the surrounding area. It's a delayed healing spell that heals a fraction of what a normal spell would, but does so continuously over time. This is mentally draining, so at some point can no longer be maintained. [2 hours tops duration, for now] Spells: Restoration [20] - Restores lost strength. Create Food and Water [10] Cure Wounds [20-50] - Cure wounds ranging from light cuts to serious injuries. Cure Diseases [30] Remove Curse [30] Barkskin [20] - Gives the recipient a 'tougher skin', thus giving him/her/it a natural armor. Detect Poison [30] Items Armour: His outfit is not something that would stand out in a tavern, or in a crowd, or so he would like to think. His 'armour' consists of nothing but a white shirt and dark grey pants, topped with a sleek black cloak that's short enough to not touch the ground, but long enough to reach past his knees. The cloak's main function is against the sun, really, as it functions well enough to hide him from the heat. It can be used against the cold, but not as good as it does against the sun's rays. He wears black short boots with it all. Weapons: A silver dagger: One that has a black smooth wooden sheath. It's very sharp. Not high quality, but good enough for him, as he isn't that proficient in handling it. It's more for self-defence, and not for attacking. Items: A pendant: Or more specifically, a clear teardrop-shaped crystal hanging off a silver metal chain. It glows a flickering white light at night, the intensity of a candle, only it gives off a white light. It can be used to illuminate very dark caverns. It was a gift from his bestfriend when he was younger. A sling bag : A bit torn on the edges, and just big enough to not look awkwardly too large for him. Very durable and tough. A silver flask : For holding water, or other liquids. Bandages : Self-explanatory. Healing Potion, Light [6]: Tiny diamond-shaped glass vials, intended for emergency situations. Mainly used for blood replenishing and closing of wounds. Gold: 0GP Miscellaneous: Biography Caspian Fleiyril learned healing out of necessity. He had been an orphan, left by his mother who died the second he was born, and left by a father whom he knows not of. It wasn't that bad, really, as the place he ended up in didn't withheld any food nor any basic necessities. He was raised in an orphanage along with too many others. He had always been a bit quiet, and he was very behaved and listened to the nuns that ran the orphanage. As much as the nuns tried to indoctrinate them into believing some god, he didn't become a believer. He followed their rules, though, as much as he could, until the day came where they all parted ways. At the age of 10, all orphans have to leave to find their roles in the world, or something like that – as the nuns often say. It was normal in their world. The funds that kept the orphanage running were limited to a certain amount of children. Caspian didn't think of it as cruel, as if it wasn't for the orphanage he got in, he might have set out into the real world sooner. He tries to see it in a positive light. He got out of the orphanage with a friend, one of his six roommates; a kid named Nikolas. Nik was a boy who was far bigger and stronger than him, louder and much more vibrant, with flaming red hair and arms that have too many scars. Nik thought that getting out of the orphanage was an adventure, and for the half part, it was true. They both got odd jobs from different people, in various locations. While Nik learned how to brawl, carry things that were larger than him, and occasionally steal, Caspian learned from a withering old man the basics of healing, while he became a helper of sorts. His friend, or best friend, got into petty fights too much with his short temper, and in the end he couldn't help but feel obligated to learn certain things to help the only one who stayed when everyone else left. He learned steadily under the watchful eye of a mysterious old man who never gave a name. It was a harsh world they lived in, he realized around that time. They lived in different places, sometimes bad sometimes nice, often in streets and such, until the old man whom Caspian was learning healing spells from finally croaked out, leaving him with nothing but books regarding healing. He thought it was odd, how an old man like the Old Man died despite knowing so much wonderful things. They left that village and headed towards the forest then – because Nik stole too many things, and Caspian learned enough already. They were fifteen then. The forest they entered, they stayed in for a full year. They lost track of time in the damp dark forest, because the second they came inside, they easily lost their way. Back when they were wandering into villages and cities, Nik functioned as the one who got the money. Caspian was useless, as he couldn't be hired as a helper to carry things because he was weak, and because he didn't look sturdy enough to be able to handle work. He looked like he was made of glass, as Nik often says, so he was confined into reading and practicing spells. However, the forest they mistakenly entered was dangerous, and Caspian's knowledge and skills in healing came to a test many times. He learned about herbs and poisons, and different forest things, because of how close they were to nature itself – which either helped them or tried to kill them. There were days where he was so exhausted with using spells that he started to lose consciousness, but it was alright, he often thought then – because at least he would die with someone who has stuck with him so far. The time in the forest proved that Nik could depend on him. Caspian Fleiyhil found a loyal friend in a boy named Nikolas, and they stayed that way until adulthood. They made other friends one they got out of the forest, too, but they stuck to each other. Their party of two became eight before he even knew it. They were the perfect partners in crime, before it all. Nik knew nothing of the things Caspian knows, and Caspian knows nothing of what Nik knew. However, as the years slowly gone by, Caspian failed to realize how he had grown more and more dependent each year. None in their company knew how to heal, but they all knew how to fight. He was the only Cleric, the healer of the group, and they kept it that way. He was kept out of harm's way, and thus he didn't even realize how he was completely disregarding important things – like how to fight, because Nik was his best friend, and it wasn't like they were going to separate, right? Caspian was deadly loyal. Nik progressed from an adventurous kid into a cruel man who fought and killed for money and selfish reasons, but Caspian only saw the kid who got bruises on his arms from working to feed himself and his friend. It was alright, all the bad things that Nik did, because Nik was his friend. They got through hard times together, and nothing could change that. At the age of 19, he was the prized healer of a group of mercenaries lead by his closest friend. He spends half of his share in money donating to the orphanage of whatever town or city they were in, while the other half was spent for their group, for food mostly. He was often gifted with books for healing, and about herbs and things. He wasn't fond of reading them, but they were often given as gifts, so he read and learned them all on his own pace. There were times he was offered by other people to work for them instead, but he turned them all down, because he was focused in his group. His group of friends were far from being nice people, but that was fine with him, because they accepted him and they never left. They were his friends. His. Everything else that doesn't belong to him doesn't matter that much. He likes his life, truly, because it was simple. He liked spending time with his friends, laughing around a bonfire, and just trying to make it through every single day. It didn't matter if all his friends committed sins, because what mattered to him was that it was fun being with them, scraping through life.</s> <\|message\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) He looked down at the man's hand, pausing for only a moment. The word mage circled meaninglessly in his head. He had heard the word before, but not in any ways he could have applied to a person or title. More like forces of nature, destructive unknowns. He resisted a shudder and took the mans hand, shaking it eagerly. "Captain Raikon Delnai of the Unserving Band. Pleasure to meet you, Dacheus." He remembered back when his mother used to tell him stories. Of mages waging wars and bringing ruin to the land. Beings of strife and chaos she called them, harbingers of the Gods and the embodiment of their fury. They had been spoken of like demons, but the man who stood before him looked nothing like what he had imagined as a boy. He wasn't shrouded in fire, or wielding a sword made of glass with the soul of a king trapped inside. His mouth twitched, uncertainty filling his mind. He looked back at the statue for a moment, the feeling in the pit of his stomach expanding outward to fill his chest. He didn't know anything about this, and felt completely unprepared. He swallowed loudly and nodded towards the statue before turning back to face Dacheus, "I saw some railings near the top. I figure if you stood on my shoulders you may be able to reach them to steady yourself." His eyes narrowed, "Just... be careful. I don't think I like this thing. I remember something about it, before waking up here. At least I think so, I was fairly drunk at the time."</s> <\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston Dacheus returned his book to its satchel. "Yeah, that should work." It wasn't ideal, but it should work, right? Raikon was clearly strong enough to support him. With some help, he clambered up onto the soldier's shoulders and turned to look at the stone. Clearly magical, clearly powerful, clearly related to their teleportation… "Ooh… oh, my…" Without thinking, he leaned forward to get a better look. Time seemed to slow as the large gem suddenly occupied all of his attention, a superhuman focus that shut out everything else to devote its efforts to the wonder in front of him. "Closer!" he called out. "Move closer, yes, like tha--" Slowly, the fact that he was no longer quite upright dawned on him. Raikon was not moving closer; the mage was simply leaning forward. Too far forward, in fact. "Ack!" His arms pinwheeled, trying to keep his balance, but the satchel with his spellbook swung forward, throwing off what little balance he might have had. He managed to raise his hands as he pitched forward and tried to grab hold of the statue to no avail. His hands served some purpose, slowing his fall so that his face didn't hit the statue quite as hard. It all seemed to be happening in the background, though, as he twisted his neck to continue looking at the gem even as he fell. "No, no! Come back!" he cried out as he reached toward the receding ruby with one hand while he slid down toward the floor. After a couple seconds of absurdity, he finally reached the floor, planting his hands on it to keep from landing on his face. It was only a minor distraction, as he kept trying to turn his head and look up at the magic gem. "It's so… I need to get… Dammit, put my feet down already!" he spat, though he at least had the good sense not to try and kick himself away from Raikon. He needed to get back up to the gem, and clearly the soldier wasn't going to be of any help.</s>	<\|message\|>Caspian Fleiyril Caspian had been remaining silent and observing for awhile, listening as the other two conscious men talked. He was quite unsurprised that the unknown male introduced himself as a mage, as they weren't that rare from where he was. Yes, he had encountered a few mages here and there, but then again had never been one to talk to anyone outside his small circle of friends and thus never truly got to know one. The books were often the giveaways, and some had odd trinkets and what not. He had moved and walked closer when Raikon and the man named Dacheus proceeded to try to get to the gem. Along that time, Raikon mentioned his position, the words and names not ringing a bell. He also watched as they failed soon enough in the gem acquiring, in a non-spectacular way. He couldn't help but feel like, if they were his friends, he would have been snickering at the failure and offering comfort after. When Dacheus demanded to be let go, he walked over and decided to stand in close talking distance. Seeing other people struggle and try to make sense of whatever they were in managed to calm him down a bit. He wasn't alone in it. "Kalakyth is in , North of Dulyns." Caspian answered Raikon's question after the long thinking he had, trying to make himself remember all the countries and continents he studied before. He then turned his eyes towards the mage whom he had yet to introduce himself to, when he failed to remember all. He ignored the ridiculousness of the situation. "I'm Caspian Fleiyril. I'm a healer, or a cleric in other terms. I would say it's nice to meet you, but this isn't nice at all." He said truthfully. Honestly, he didn't know what else to say or do, so he just stared awkwardly. He didn't want to offer help, really, since it looked like even the help of a captain wasn't sufficient. What more could he do?</s>
<\|description\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston General Information Age: Late 30's Class: Mage, specialization in illusion and destruction Gender: Male Length(in meters): 1.7 Race: Human Character Perk: Studious. Dacheus has spent decades in focused study, devoting himself to the arcane arts. If something holds his interest, he has a nigh-supernatural ability to focus and study and retain almost everything he reads. Character Flaw: Ooh, Shiny! The myopic focus required to learn such advanced techniques comes with a downside. Dacheus is powerfully distractible, not by traditionally shiny things like jewels and coin, but by arcane oddities. Outside of urgent situations like combat, he may need to be physically dragged away from things which capture his attention. Appearance: Dacheus is a man with a medium, ordinary build. Jet black hair with a streak of white along one side. Rich brown eyes that seem to turn bronze in the right light. Rather than a pale skin characteristic of his profession, he has a mild tan, studying and working outside when he can. Various scars, resulting from arcane mishaps of one kind or another, have been covered and disguised with intricate tattoos. Looks (and sings) kinda like: Alignment: The Fools, I'll Show Them All! (Neutral) Stats STR(Strength): 10 DEX(Dexterity): 12 CON(Constitution): 12 INT(Intelligence): 18 WIS(Wisdom): 10 CHR(Charisma): 16 Skills: [WIP] Spellcraft [50] Concentration [40] Disguise [40] - limited to illusions. Search [30] - Dammit, where did I leave it this time? Decypher Script [50] Language: Eldritch [30] Performance: Dancing [20] Performance: Singing [50] Abilities: [WIP] Dumb Luck: Most magical progress is made through careful study and practice. Most of the time, Dacheus follows this principle. Once in awhile, he gets an idea and decides to try it out before studying its consequences. Sometimes it works, and he discovers that he can make the illusory dragon breathe fire. Sometimes it doesn't, and he gets a fresh scar to cover up. Illusory Casting: One such successful experiment taught him how to cast evocation spells (fire, etc) from his more powerful illusions. If he has a Major Illusion cast, he can cast weakened evocation spells which originate from within the illusion. The illusion and the target of the spell must be within the spell's normal range of Dacheus and each other. Spells: [WIP] Lightning Bolt [50] - A simple blast of lightning leaving his hands and traveling in a straight line. For when a single thing (and whatever's standing behind it) needs to suffer. Fireball [50] - A small ball of flame leaves his hand, flies to a given spot, and detonates. Capable of filling an ordinary room with flames. (20' radius, 8d6) Firebolt [60] - A more powerful ball of fire which strikes a much smaller area with much greater force. Capable of hitting a single target and people adjacent to it. (10' radius, 12d6) Telekinesis [40] - Allows the caster to move objects with his mind. Disguise Self [40] - A simple illusion to change his appearance. Minor Illusion [20] - Small sounds and images. Major Illusion [60] - Not-so-small sounds and images. Depending on the time he has to dedicate to crafting the illusion, this might be as simple as a person or animal appearing or as complex as a pair of armies doing battle, though larger illusions will be less believable and easier to see through. Mirror Image [20] - Several duplicates of the caster appear around him. Mislead [50] - An image of the caster appears in his place while he turns invisible. Items [WIP] (there's a pattern here) Armour: Very little. Working in his lab/library, he wears an ornate leather jerkin and matching bracers, enchanted to protect him from his own mishaps. Over that, he wears a jacket with at least a dozen pockets. Simple shirt, pants and shoes, usually black and grey. Weapons: A knife, but it's a tool more than a weapon. Items: Enchanted knife, writing tools (parchments, quills), spellbook. Gold: Left it at home. Miscellaneous: Biography Dacheus Zaraphiston liked to tell people he was a wizard. After all, his father had been, and his grandfather, and several others throughout the family tree. And when he'd first started to manifest arcane talent, that's how he'd been treated. Taught to read, to study, to learn from books and rituals and theory. And it hardly worked. The young mage drove himself to the point of madness, trying to learn to be like his father. He forced himself to sit and read a tome from cover to cover, absorbing everything it contained and yet unable to turn that knowledge into more than slight arcane progress. Months went by like this, even years, before a family visitor finally noticed the problem: Dacheus wasn't a wizard in the first place. He was a sorcerer, and under proper instruction (again, from outside the family, to his father's chagrin), his abilities grew in leaps and bounds. They weren't royalty, but a family line with a history of wizardry was going to be well off. They may have been the lower part of the aristocracy, but aristocracy they were. Dacheus was accustomed to fine food, fine clothes, and minimal consequences as a young man. When he wasn't studying the arcane arts, he was learning to sing and dance like a proper young man, wooing young women and otherwise getting into trouble. As a young man, Dacheus had focused primarily on illusions, the sort that could be used to entertain others or to disguise himself. Simple evocations, summoning fire or electricity, augmented this. The first of his scars came as a result of a mishap shortly before his twentieth birthday, one which burned down much of his family's home and saw him exiled from his home city of Aasleagh. Exactly what he was trying to accomplish, no one ever quite determined. Either way, it saw him turned loose upon the world, making a living by selling his skills, usually as an entertainer, occasionally as a spellslinger. He put more effort into learning his evocations; a surprising number of problems could be solved with the judicious application of fire and lightning. Over the next nearly twenty years, he traveled around the countries of Tiltha and Ambrogio. He somehow avoided building a reputation by putting on a different illusory mask every time he pulled up stakes. Any time he visited a major city, he would find a library, read for three days straight, and then head back out into the wilderness to experiment with his new knowledge. These days, after discovering a way to cast an evocation spell with an illusion as its origin, he is now working on mastering teleportation as an escape tool while leaving an illusory copy of himself behind.</s> <\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston Slowly the voices nearby pierced the consciousness of the fair-skinned man in the robe and he began to stir. He picked up his head and glanced around. This was clearly not the valley outside of Kyranholm where he was pretty sure he'd last been. He sat up straighter, rubbed his eyes, and looked around yet again. The greenery, the running water, all that felt right. Right? No, no it's quite wrong. He looked at it again. That is not the same creek, those are not the same trees. And these are not the mercenaries I was with before. Dacheus Zaraphiston buried his face in his hands and tried to focus, to think. How did he get here? It made no sense. Had he done something wrong? He retraced his steps as best he could. He had been in the valley, right? And he was testing out a new spell, a combination of teleportation with misdirection. Rather than just creating an illusory duplicate of himself while turning invisible, he was actually going to teleport out of harm's way at the same time. It should have worked. He had mastered both spells, mashing them together shouldn't have been a problem, right? Apparently it had. Ok, think. Valley. Mercenaries. Spell. Soo… what went wrong? He straightened up and looked around again. This is sooo not the valley. Where in the nine hells am I? Did something go wrong? Is this one of my illusions? He looked at a rock next to him and tried to see through it. It remained where it was, refusing to yield. He rapped his knuckles against it. Still it remained solid. He picked it up and inspected it closely. Sure looks real. For good measure, he bonked it against his forehead. Ouch. Ok, that was stupid. It's real. Dacheus set the rock down and stood up. Is this my fault? No, it can't be, I'm not bleeding. But how else… no. Just no. Not my fault. He surveyed the room once more. Right? With the initial shock wearing off, he tried to get his bearings. He was indoors, it was reasonably warm, there were trees and water and other people and none of it made sense. He looked down at himself. Everything was still where it belonged. Wizard's robe, spellbook in its bag on his back. Arcane tools and trinkets in the pockets of his robe. Still fully dressed, unlike his first teleportation mishap that had left him naked in the city square. Thank the gods for invisibility. And then there was the matter of the other people. Two men, already up, and an unconscious half-elven woman, by the looks of it. Well, could be a man, hard to tell with the elves. Regardless, they weren't the marauding band he'd been working with over the last month. He wouldn't really miss them, but it was nice to be appreciated. He turned and looked at the two men. "Gentlemen. Do you know where we are?" he asked calmly, bronze eyes flicking between the two. One was large and confident. The other was small and terrified. Dacheus would fit somewhere in between, in both senses.</s> <\|message\|>Caspian Fleiyril Caspian mentally counted his breaths, slowly being successful in calming himself. It was just the confusion, he tells himself, of waking up in the company of beings whom he did not recognize. He listened as the man named Raikon spoke, taking into account how apparently both of them knew nothing of the place they were currently in. It gave him a sense of slight relief that he wasn't alone in his current predicament. Information taken in, the new dominant question in his mind was what or who exactly brought them there. If his newest speculation was right, then the others with them were also from another place. Oh, he was still cautious and tinged with nervousness, just less. He wasn't alone and that was very relieving to know. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. With a clearer mind, he surveyed his surroundings,more critical this time. Still, he failed to recognize anything. The towering elven figures make it seem like a temple, or a church of sorts. Something nagged in the back of his mind, but he couldn't remember what it was. "I'm Caspian Fleiyril. I don't know this place, either, or how I got here." He answered, choosing to stay nearer to the man who seemed to not be an enemy at the moment. "I remember I was walking with my companions. It was broad daylight then in Kalakyth." He talked before walking towards the female elven, just to check if she was truly just asleep and alive. It was often his job to do so, and out of habit he felt the need to check on her. He was just about to crouch down to check her manually, and to wake her up, but someone else showed up. His attention snapped towards the new arrival. The bronze eyes were odd. Very eye-catching. And then, the blackhaired man asked the same question that was voiced out earlier. "We don't. Not really."</s>	<\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston At a minimum, the other people there appeared equally confused and did not appear openly hostile. That was a good sign. They'd also come from far away, which meant that Dacheus was probably not at fault for bringing them here. Probably. Then how did we get here? With the immediate "Am I going to get stabbed?" concerns dealt with, the mage turned his attention to his surroundings once more. Figuring out where he was would be a good start. Dacheus turned and walked toward one of the windows without taking the time to introduce himself. Outside were mountains, covered in snow and ice. Wait, what the hell? He looked around the room, held out his hand to the air. No wind, warm, greenery, running water. He looked outside again. Freezing cold. Was it merely an illusion? He walked up to a large, open window and hopped into it, leaning outside. The wind whipped around his head, stinging his cheeks. He quickly retreated and touched his face; the snow in his beard was quite real. Then is this room the false one? No, no. I checked. He rubbed the spot on his head and confirmed that he had indeed hit himself with a rock. And the snow and ice outside… that's real too. Which means… There were a few possible explanations. They might not be in the mountains at all, but every window was a portal to a frozen realm. Unlikely, but possible. More likely, they were in the mountains, but there was some sort of barrier keeping the cold out and the warmth in. He began an arcane inspection of the windows, watching the way the magic seemed to ripple as he moved his hand out into the cold and pulled it back. "What a fascinating little barrier…" he mused. It somehow allowed him to move through it while minimizing airflow, preventing the freezing wind from blasting through the great hall. He stepped back and dashed to the next window, looking for the same thing. "This is so neat! Put one of these in the door of your house and never deal with winter drafts again! Why, this could revolutionize the principles of construction even in temperate realms, let alone cold ones!" He dashed to the next window. "But how on earth does it work…"</s>
<\|description\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston General Information Age: Late 30's Class: Mage, specialization in illusion and destruction Gender: Male Length(in meters): 1.7 Race: Human Character Perk: Studious. Dacheus has spent decades in focused study, devoting himself to the arcane arts. If something holds his interest, he has a nigh-supernatural ability to focus and study and retain almost everything he reads. Character Flaw: Ooh, Shiny! The myopic focus required to learn such advanced techniques comes with a downside. Dacheus is powerfully distractible, not by traditionally shiny things like jewels and coin, but by arcane oddities. Outside of urgent situations like combat, he may need to be physically dragged away from things which capture his attention. Appearance: Dacheus is a man with a medium, ordinary build. Jet black hair with a streak of white along one side. Rich brown eyes that seem to turn bronze in the right light. Rather than a pale skin characteristic of his profession, he has a mild tan, studying and working outside when he can. Various scars, resulting from arcane mishaps of one kind or another, have been covered and disguised with intricate tattoos. Looks (and sings) kinda like: Alignment: The Fools, I'll Show Them All! (Neutral) Stats STR(Strength): 10 DEX(Dexterity): 12 CON(Constitution): 12 INT(Intelligence): 18 WIS(Wisdom): 10 CHR(Charisma): 16 Skills: [WIP] Spellcraft [50] Concentration [40] Disguise [40] - limited to illusions. Search [30] - Dammit, where did I leave it this time? Decypher Script [50] Language: Eldritch [30] Performance: Dancing [20] Performance: Singing [50] Abilities: [WIP] Dumb Luck: Most magical progress is made through careful study and practice. Most of the time, Dacheus follows this principle. Once in awhile, he gets an idea and decides to try it out before studying its consequences. Sometimes it works, and he discovers that he can make the illusory dragon breathe fire. Sometimes it doesn't, and he gets a fresh scar to cover up. Illusory Casting: One such successful experiment taught him how to cast evocation spells (fire, etc) from his more powerful illusions. If he has a Major Illusion cast, he can cast weakened evocation spells which originate from within the illusion. The illusion and the target of the spell must be within the spell's normal range of Dacheus and each other. Spells: [WIP] Lightning Bolt [50] - A simple blast of lightning leaving his hands and traveling in a straight line. For when a single thing (and whatever's standing behind it) needs to suffer. Fireball [50] - A small ball of flame leaves his hand, flies to a given spot, and detonates. Capable of filling an ordinary room with flames. (20' radius, 8d6) Firebolt [60] - A more powerful ball of fire which strikes a much smaller area with much greater force. Capable of hitting a single target and people adjacent to it. (10' radius, 12d6) Telekinesis [40] - Allows the caster to move objects with his mind. Disguise Self [40] - A simple illusion to change his appearance. Minor Illusion [20] - Small sounds and images. Major Illusion [60] - Not-so-small sounds and images. Depending on the time he has to dedicate to crafting the illusion, this might be as simple as a person or animal appearing or as complex as a pair of armies doing battle, though larger illusions will be less believable and easier to see through. Mirror Image [20] - Several duplicates of the caster appear around him. Mislead [50] - An image of the caster appears in his place while he turns invisible. Items [WIP] (there's a pattern here) Armour: Very little. Working in his lab/library, he wears an ornate leather jerkin and matching bracers, enchanted to protect him from his own mishaps. Over that, he wears a jacket with at least a dozen pockets. Simple shirt, pants and shoes, usually black and grey. Weapons: A knife, but it's a tool more than a weapon. Items: Enchanted knife, writing tools (parchments, quills), spellbook. Gold: Left it at home. Miscellaneous: Biography Dacheus Zaraphiston liked to tell people he was a wizard. After all, his father had been, and his grandfather, and several others throughout the family tree. And when he'd first started to manifest arcane talent, that's how he'd been treated. Taught to read, to study, to learn from books and rituals and theory. And it hardly worked. The young mage drove himself to the point of madness, trying to learn to be like his father. He forced himself to sit and read a tome from cover to cover, absorbing everything it contained and yet unable to turn that knowledge into more than slight arcane progress. Months went by like this, even years, before a family visitor finally noticed the problem: Dacheus wasn't a wizard in the first place. He was a sorcerer, and under proper instruction (again, from outside the family, to his father's chagrin), his abilities grew in leaps and bounds. They weren't royalty, but a family line with a history of wizardry was going to be well off. They may have been the lower part of the aristocracy, but aristocracy they were. Dacheus was accustomed to fine food, fine clothes, and minimal consequences as a young man. When he wasn't studying the arcane arts, he was learning to sing and dance like a proper young man, wooing young women and otherwise getting into trouble. As a young man, Dacheus had focused primarily on illusions, the sort that could be used to entertain others or to disguise himself. Simple evocations, summoning fire or electricity, augmented this. The first of his scars came as a result of a mishap shortly before his twentieth birthday, one which burned down much of his family's home and saw him exiled from his home city of Aasleagh. Exactly what he was trying to accomplish, no one ever quite determined. Either way, it saw him turned loose upon the world, making a living by selling his skills, usually as an entertainer, occasionally as a spellslinger. He put more effort into learning his evocations; a surprising number of problems could be solved with the judicious application of fire and lightning. Over the next nearly twenty years, he traveled around the countries of Tiltha and Ambrogio. He somehow avoided building a reputation by putting on a different illusory mask every time he pulled up stakes. Any time he visited a major city, he would find a library, read for three days straight, and then head back out into the wilderness to experiment with his new knowledge. These days, after discovering a way to cast an evocation spell with an illusion as its origin, he is now working on mastering teleportation as an escape tool while leaving an illusory copy of himself behind.</s> <\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston Dacheus moved his hands through the barrier several more times, watching them and the subtle ripples in the air around them. "Oh, that's… huh. I wonder…" He continued muttering to himself as he pulled his spellbook from its pouch and started reading, comparing what he had written with what he was seeing. "Oooh, that's interesting. But it's… no, wait." He continued his myopic inspection of the windows until someone interrupted him. He turned and looked over the shoulder as if annoyed. Oh wait. Other people. Probably gotta deal with them, they don't know why we're here either. He turned back to his book and took a breath. They're not enemies yet. They're lost too. We should try to work together. Then he tucked his book under his arm and turned back toward the larger man standing by the statue. "Oh, yes! I should have a look at that, shouldn't I?" he answered, walking quickly -- almost skipping -- across the room. There was simply so much to see and to try to understand, even if he was stranded in a strange place with no idea how he'd gotten there or how to leave, he was still visibly excited. He came to a stop at the base of the statue and looked up at the stone. "Well, it's big and red. Gems don't usually get that big though, so it's probably magical," he said, thinking aloud. He opened the tome he carried once more and flipped through it, glancing between the book and the stone, back and forth several times. "Yeah, magical… and I think I've seen that… yes!" The book stopped on a page with a teleportation spell. He stared at the stone and then at the page, twirling his fingers in the air in some sort of pattern. "Yes, that it's. Teleportation of some kind, has to be. Probably what brought us here, although I can't say that for certain." He shut the book again and smiled in satisfaction as he looked up at it. "I'll need a closer look to be sure…" After a few seconds he stopped and turned to the green-eyed man next to him. "What's your name, by the way? I'm Dacheus. I'm a mage," he said, glancing down at the spellbook in his hand. "But I guess that's obvious."</s> <\|message\|>Raikon Adamus Delnai (Rai to his friends) He looked down at the man's hand, pausing for only a moment. The word mage circled meaninglessly in his head. He had heard the word before, but not in any ways he could have applied to a person or title. More like forces of nature, destructive unknowns. He resisted a shudder and took the mans hand, shaking it eagerly. "Captain Raikon Delnai of the Unserving Band. Pleasure to meet you, Dacheus." He remembered back when his mother used to tell him stories. Of mages waging wars and bringing ruin to the land. Beings of strife and chaos she called them, harbingers of the Gods and the embodiment of their fury. They had been spoken of like demons, but the man who stood before him looked nothing like what he had imagined as a boy. He wasn't shrouded in fire, or wielding a sword made of glass with the soul of a king trapped inside. His mouth twitched, uncertainty filling his mind. He looked back at the statue for a moment, the feeling in the pit of his stomach expanding outward to fill his chest. He didn't know anything about this, and felt completely unprepared. He swallowed loudly and nodded towards the statue before turning back to face Dacheus, "I saw some railings near the top. I figure if you stood on my shoulders you may be able to reach them to steady yourself." His eyes narrowed, "Just... be careful. I don't think I like this thing. I remember something about it, before waking up here. At least I think so, I was fairly drunk at the time."</s>	<\|message\|>Dacheus Zaraphiston Dacheus returned his book to its satchel. "Yeah, that should work." It wasn't ideal, but it should work, right? Raikon was clearly strong enough to support him. With some help, he clambered up onto the soldier's shoulders and turned to look at the stone. Clearly magical, clearly powerful, clearly related to their teleportation… "Ooh… oh, my…" Without thinking, he leaned forward to get a better look. Time seemed to slow as the large gem suddenly occupied all of his attention, a superhuman focus that shut out everything else to devote its efforts to the wonder in front of him. "Closer!" he called out. "Move closer, yes, like tha--" Slowly, the fact that he was no longer quite upright dawned on him. Raikon was not moving closer; the mage was simply leaning forward. Too far forward, in fact. "Ack!" His arms pinwheeled, trying to keep his balance, but the satchel with his spellbook swung forward, throwing off what little balance he might have had. He managed to raise his hands as he pitched forward and tried to grab hold of the statue to no avail. His hands served some purpose, slowing his fall so that his face didn't hit the statue quite as hard. It all seemed to be happening in the background, though, as he twisted his neck to continue looking at the gem even as he fell. "No, no! Come back!" he cried out as he reached toward the receding ruby with one hand while he slid down toward the floor. After a couple seconds of absurdity, he finally reached the floor, planting his hands on it to keep from landing on his face. It was only a minor distraction, as he kept trying to turn his head and look up at the magic gem. "It's so… I need to get… Dammit, put my feet down already!" he spat, though he at least had the good sense not to try and kick himself away from Raikon. He needed to get back up to the gem, and clearly the soldier wasn't going to be of any help.</s>
<\|description\|>Clark kent Alias: None, as of yet. Species: Kryptonian Power/Ability Set: Fuelled by the yellow sun of the Solar System, Clark's power set is something not even fully known to himself. Incredible strength, durability, flight, eye lasers and senses many times more capable than a human's are but the most obvious representations of this. As he has grown older and gained greater control of his ability to harness the power of the sun, his capabilities, and the extremity of them, has only increased. Personality: Clark is a good man, and that has defined him for as long as anyone can remember, that and a determined desire to stay out of trouble, don't draw attention. A Kansas boy with the powers of a god, the Kents raised their adoptive son to treat anyone with respect, and he finds the crass rudeness that has lately defined American politics and society to be utterly at odds with the America he knows from his hometown. These two sides of Clark, the man who wants to do good, and the man who wants to stay low, cannot always co-exist, increasingly they are challenged, and soon he must pick one. Biography: Kal'el may hail from Krypton, light years from Earth, but Clark Kent was born and raised in Smallville, Kansas. A farm boy in nurture if not blood, Clark knew more animals then people practically until High School. He never seemed to excel at school, although several teachers, the ones who actually noticed such things and weren't just in it for an easy pass shouting at kids, reported a profound sense that the boy, then young man, was holding himself back, not living up to his potential. Clark didn't exactly make any friends either, sure very few people disliked him, most hardly knew him. He passed through school about as much as a ghost as one could. He turned down offers to join various sports teams, despite his prototypical build, and clear physical health. Once he had his diploma, he was out of Smallville. Clark didn't apply for any universities, he went straight to the East Coast. He walked into three separate Ivy League universities. Professors and Heads of departments laughed at the country boy breezing in an expecting to be heard. They laughed less when in five minutes he solved problems they had entire teams working on. Entire teams of PhD researchers. Kent also walked into the big sports schools, came as a walk on, for Football teams across the coast. He almost drowned in the number of welcome packs he was sent after footage of this freak athlete began circulating around the coaches. In the end, the attention made him panic, and so he looked for something faceless, the kind of person who's never noticed, not really, but always there, watching. The Daily Planet just happened to be the first port of call, and Clark, impressive in his interview, was offered an unpaid internship, on account of his low grades. Two years later and Clark is a full time reporter, the only one on staff without any form of degree or other qualification. The young man turned reporter has covered the election exhaustively, and with such enthusiasm as to 'almost' overshadow the darling of Metropolis journalism, Lois Lane. Nobody talks about second best journalists though, just like Clark wants it.</s> <\|message\|>Ice With the entirety of Downtown Gotham tearing itself apart and the city looking to be torn apart by the chaos, fire and the gas attack - one might say a hero was needed. That was what Alicia Snow aka the superhero know as Ice did. On one part, she also used to live near the Downtown Gotham area - as well as that the fire could likely spread further. As such, with the threat of gas in the air - Ice improvised at that, one thing she was good at that. Using a slightly modified paint-mask to prevent from breathing in the toxic gas at that. She flew through the air into the Downtown area at that, using her ice powers to suffocate the fires raging around the area. It wasn't much, but since it was chaos down in the streets - and the fire department likely at worst, days away, it was her task of getting the fires down before they spread and started engulfing the people inside them in flames. She used her powers to boost herself from roof to roof - coating the fire raging inside them with a sheet of ice, suffocating the flames and much more at that. Being dressed in her usual uniform, namely a blue leotard that allowed her maximum skin. Which was the way how her powers operated, in someway that she was still trying to understand how. As the chaos in the streets were getting worse, she took the chance and jumped down - encoating her entire body in a large body of ice. Upon landing on the ground as an ice golem, she quickly started freezing the large gangs and those, whom were causing the most destruction. A little chill here and there, but it wasn't anything harmful at that, just enough to stop then until the police got the area under control. It was a good thing that ice was both tough, and insulating - since the chaos on the streets was, for a lack of a better word - a chaos.</s> <\|message\|>Mari McCabe Mari McCabe was in Metropolis for the last few days doing a photo shoot. Her agents had told her that a charity show was being held in Gotham and that she needed to be there by the end of the week. She had been working on a line of new clothing inspired by the Tantu Totem and the powers that came with it. Because of these powers Mari had dawned the mantle of Vixen and began to fight crime where ever she was, robbery, gangs, and killing sprees, she had even fought Cheetah on an occasion or two and won. Her plane had landed in Gotham hours ago and now she was at he venue for the charity trying her best to get rich politicians and dignitary's to donate their money, this money would go to helping orphaned African children. While she was talking to some Senator, an explosion blew the front doors off the building ,sending many people back and wounding a few, the lights went out and all you could see where the fires from out side rage on as you heard all the rich folk and scream and guns, fighting, and violence from out side. Pople ran out side, but Mari went to her black bag that carried her black and orange costume. After putting it on she exited the hall and went out onto the street of downtown Gotham. It was madness, people are running fires where burning and crazies where out. Vixen began to help local authorities, deal with the gangs she found squads of cops being bullied by some small groups of gun wielding thugs in back allies. She channeled the cheetah and swiftly took care of the thugs with lighting speed. When she channeled an animal she not only took on its physical traits but she became that being and had learned with control she could use this to her advantage. She could use the instincts, and precision that a cheetah had as she took down her foes with ease and moved onto the next group. As she did this she noticed the fires beginning to die down and soon go out and a ice golem fell fro the sky and landed in front of the larger gangs. Vixen saw it was freezing them and did not attack it instead she moved to help, by disarming the gangs. Fighting who ever the golem missed and knocking them out. Using her speed she jumped in front of it and waved casually. "Hi Iceman thing. I don't know who you are but maybe we should work together to help this situation?" She said to it as chaos raged on.</s> <\|message\|>Bartholomew Henry "Barry" Allen His name was Barry Allen, the fastest man alive, and... he was late for his flight. Barry had been in Gotham the past few days helping the Gotham Police Department on a connecting case. Now he was stuck in traffic taking a cab ride to the airport. Barry was always the type to be late to things before he got his powers and decided to keep on doing so once he did. The guy who's always late couldn't possible be the fastest man alive. He was almost tempted to just get out and run there. If he was too late he'd have to stay in Gotham another night. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but he was ready to get home. His thoughts of getting home was then interrupted by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He took it out and checked to see that he had gotten a missed call and a text message. Was he that out of it that he didn't notice the phone call? The text was asking him if he was at the airport and if he was okay because of all the chaos. Barry looked outside the window and noticed the smoke rising in the city. He asked the cab driver to turn on the radio so they could find out what was going on. The news station talked about a terrorist attack in Gotham and suggested that everyone stay inside so they could be safe. They also announced the grounding of all flights. Not that Barry was planning to go home anymore anyway. He couldn't leave Gotham like this. Up until now he decided to not even hero up while in the city. It wasn't his place to do so. Not unless there was something going on around him. "Stop the car." Barry said as he started unbuckling his seatbelt. "Traffic isn't even moving." The driver replied confused as to why he'd even want to stop the car anyway. "Right. Right." Barry looked at the meter and took the fare out of his wallet. He even gave the driver a little extra. He then got out of the car and waited for the driver to pop open the trunk so he could get his suitcase. Once he did Barry was out of there. He ran normal speed to an alleyway and hid his suitcase before pulling out a ring. He put the ring on and touched the top causing it to spring open and release an expanding suit. Barry used his super speed to put the costume on and became the Flash. As soon as the suit was on he was out of the alley and speeding through the city. Whenever he came across a group of criminals he knocked them out them out and left them for the police. He got civilians to safety whenever he came across them and he even put out a few fires. He was feeling back in his element. He missed this and just hoped any of the resident heroes wouldn't mind him helping out. As he went through downtown he could feel a change in temperature from the rest of the affected areas. He turned a corner and noticed what looked to be an ice golem and someone else in a costume. He was expecting more to see the infamous Batman but the night wasn't over yet. He ran up to the duo and said, "I'm the Flash. Need any help?"</s> <\|message\|>Ice Kindred@Queentze@Ezekiel Ice breathed heavily after the gangs were dealt with and was surprised - when another woman came to help her out at that. And judging by her appearance and attire, it was likely she was another superhero at that. "OH? Uhm, sure. Of course," replied Ice from inside the golem at that. Despite the rebreather she still sounded female at that for Vixen to understand. Then they got another one at that. Namely that being the Flash - the so-called fastest thing alive on Earth. Well, two superheroes in one day, either things were getting better or the situation was just that bad. "Oh. Uhm," muttered Ice, not sure on how to use their powers for that. She only knew how to throw around Ice and not lead people. "We got gangs roaming around this place. Also we got fires in the place. We need to get both under control, in the case it might spread further." "I can handle the fires. We would need somebody to handle the gangs. And thirdly to get the cops here," she spoke, thinking logically in this case. "Some police officers should be around the vicinity - or likely overwhelmed. They are likely the best bet to help keep the citizens safe. Somebody has to go either rally or rescue them, so we have somesort of push against the criminal element running wild here."</s>	<\|message\|>Clark kent "And this will work? I've tried countless combinations, it never quite seems to stick with those of a...higher constitution." The emaiciated figure of Doctor Crane sat hunched over his work station, deep in the Gotham underbelly, once a respected figure on the science of the mind, he had, without a doubt, broken his own. The pursuit of his goals had become absolute, and this presented a bound towards the perfection he yearned for. "Quite certain, the toxin added to the serum should overpower all but a few notable exceptions, but, this is only to be released when instructed." In contrast to the hunched figure of the doctor, the man that stepped out of the shadows was the model of sophistication, a fine tailored suit and dark rimmed glasses of expensive taste. This was the sort of money that required anonymity, not fame. "Of course, of course." The Scarecrow responded, a little too quickly, he grated under the impression of control, but it would be worth it, to have continued access to the hidden substance that amplified his already potent work. "You may thank the Presiden-Elect for his generous investment." He turned to look at the man standing aside from him, a crooked grin spread across his features. The other man only frowned. "You will not repeat that, under any circumstances, or there will be a price to pay." Now The small gathering of heroes, three together at once, seemed to herald the next stage of the chaos that was Gotham City, something equally felt by the mystical mind of one John Constantine. A wave of darkness seemed to pass through the city, unnoticed by those not attuned to the ways of magic, a curse, screamed with uncomparable fear. In the next moment, however, the consequence was more than visible to all. The riots that had swept the city descended further into a violent orgy of paranoid attacks. Roving gangs that had united against the monsters they all saw in the shadows, suddenly turned on each other, seeing the same darkness in their hasty allies. Those police units deploy to maintain order and contain the panic when they could not, found their equipment no defence against whatever new threat attacked them. Soon, the spattering of gunfire in the night air became a blaze, as the National Guard turned on itself. Gradually, in the minds of those capable of perceiving such things, John Constantine among them, the pulse of this new attack brought with it the feverish whispering of words, a sobbing cry, echoing across the pulse of power; Azarath Metrion Zinthos</s>
<\|description\|>Balian Age: 34 Appearance: Balian stands at 5"10, his build is somewhere between slim and lean. Grey eyes chestnut brown hair and face almost always stubbled, his appearance is often seen as striking. His eyes lack life, probably from years spent on the road, only ever stopping for brief respites in towns and villages that he passed. Notable features are a small scar on his chin and skin tested by the elements. Class: Ranger Can handle bladed weapons as well, allowing them to defend themselves against approaching enemies or close in for the kill. Ranged is preferred style of combat. Alignment: Neutral Good Weapon(s): Armor/Clothing: As seen in picture. Also clad in a fine linen shirt, dark woolen hose and soft travel-worn leather boots, over his shirt Balian wears a jerkin secured by braided cord ties Personal Trinkets: Rabbit's foot (Lucky Charm) These take many shapes, but the most common are symbolic religious symbols that a pious priest has touched or carved heads of ancient Gods. The rabbit's foot is a symbol of good luck in many places of the world and is often threaded with a thin cord of leather or string Wooden Flute A simple wooden flute carved by Balian's father. He usually keeps it wrapped in a piece of cloth and kept away. Short History: Born to a master woodsman and a mill worker, Balian was taught from a young age the skills of being a woodsman. Even as a young lad he had a knack for navigation and survival skills. Balian is not shy of hard labor having worked all his young life. He spent all of this younger life in and around the midlands village he was born to, working and training. At age eight he was shown how to use a bow by his father for the first time and took to it like a duck to water, swordplay followed in an effort to teach his son how to defend himself if ever the need arose (as much as he did not want a violent life for Balian). It was in his teens that Balian decided he did not want to suffer the bondage of serfdom or peasantry his whole life but neither did he want the privilege associated with nobility. At age seventeen, Balian left his village starting on a journey to see as much of the world as he could and to live off of the land. Before he left his father presented him with a parting gift a wooden flute carved by himself. Leaving the village of Vale that day was the last time he saw his parents. After some five years travelling, Balian returned to Vale only to discover his father had succumbed to a sudden illness two years previous and his mother so stricken with grief at the loss of her son and now husband had hanged herself in the mill where she worked. With no ties to his birthplace he set off once again after a short respite and since has traveled, stopping from time-to-time for short respites in towns, villages and cities he would come across. He made sure never to allow himself to become too attached to people or towns always making it easier when time came to leave. However, Balian has at least one trusted friend in many of the different steads from South to North, relying on these as his source of information and news when he does stop. For a few years the ranger traveled with another, a woman by the name of Morrigan. Black hair, blue eyes and pale skin, Balian quickly became infatuated with her. During a stay at the village of Lindow they were awoken in the middle of the night by commotion, screams and cries filling the night air. A beastman warband had happened on the village in a raid, Balian pleaded with Morrigan to barricade herself indoors and once she agreed took himself outside into the middle of it all with sword and bow. The ranger was knocked unconscious in combat and when he awoke in the early hours of the morning the smell of burning, smoke and death filled his nostrils. In a daze he made his way to the inn, only to find it raised to the ground. Balian fell to his knees as his cries turned to a sour roar. It is since that day the ranger has taken it upon himself to actively hunt out Beast scouting parties, occasionally joining up with bands of rangers (many of whom share similar stories) to take on larger groups. It is the element of surprise, the ability to blend in with surroundings and that they pick the battlefield (usually woodland), that give Balian and other rangers alike the advantage over unsuspecting beastmen who have often been stalked for days like prey. Balian has been in Galloway only a short few hours although this is not his first visit to the town-stead. He has grown weary of the road and has not stopped in a town for longer than a few hours in months.</s> <\|message\|>Balian Something Wicked This Way Comes So Toll The Bell And Sound The Drums, For Something Wicked This Way Comes... The Journey So Far Location: Galloway (Town-stead) Weather: Dry Time of Day: Dusk Rendezvous: "The Retired Sword" Tavern As dusk comes, the darkest stage of the evening twilight falls over Galloway. The last of the town's merchants and stall vendors leave for the night, many heading to the local taverns or home to the comfort of family and an open fire. The executioner, a gloomy figure drabbed entirely in black, prepares the Gallows for the morning. Three men to be strung up for crimes against the town and borough of Galloway to be disclosed at time of execution to the general public. Lights from candles and gas lanterns begin to fill the windows, on the tighter streets in the town light coming from one window flickers on the walls across the road. It gives an atmospheric feeling while traveling the town. The city guards shift changes leading to a higher presence of guards in the open until it completes. Outside the town walls, woodsmen work late whittling away at the border of the Gallowglade, collecting logs and tolling back and fro, horse and cart dragging the wood back to the town depot. Yeomen, the highest rank any normal peasant can hope to achieve patrol the outskirts of the town on horseback keeping any eye out for anything strange, and questioning those entering or leaving the town. A couple of yeomen also observe the workers, lanterns emitting an eerie glow. The streets soon empty, at least to a level much less busy than during the day. Inside the numerous taverns around town the life of the city continues. Location: The Retired Sword, Galloway Weather: Misty Rain, light winds. Time of Day: Nightfall From the outside, the inn seemed much like the rest of Galloway in appearance. It had been difficult to look through the windows but as you entered through the thick, wooden door; groans welcome you. It's as dreary inside as it is on the out. Hardwood beams support the upper floor and the lanterns attached to them. The walls have a few pictures here and there, though the dust stops you from taking a closer look. Locals seem to be the primary clientele here. The patrons appear dangerous in one way or another, but whoever they are, you'd prefer not to look at them the wrong way, save a fight that would get you locked up in barracks cages until they decide to let you go. You did hear rumors about this tavern, supposedly it's infamous for something, but for the life of you you can't remember what for. Though judging by everything you've seen so far, you don't really care and you probably don't want to know. As night takes hold, the inn has grown full and lively as it dwells further into the night. Our adventurers find themselves either joining the festivities or still awake in the tavern because with all the noise they find themselves unable to sleep. Occasionally the howl of a wolf pierces the ears of the patrons, the sound is chilling but doesn't impede on the festivities. A fog had rolled over the town having been approaching for quite a while giving a completely different atmosphere to the town streets, many of the lanterns no longer burning for another night. Suddenly, it grew quiet as a flock of armored guard, swords, halberds or crossbows at the ready ran down the street past the inn the thudding of their leather boots rushed. One guard passing lit the lanterns hanging outside buildings as they could, but was trying to keep up with his comrades. For whatever reason took them, the adventurers are drawn to it, they approach the door and flood onto the street. Bestiary An accurate record of the beasts and wildlife that the group have encountered since starting their journey.</s> <\|message\|>Balian Location: Galloway (Town-stead) Weather: Dry Time of Day: Dusk Rendezvous: "The Retired Sword" Tavern As dusk comes, the darkest stage of the evening twilight falls over Galloway. The last of the town's merchants and stall vendors leave for the night, many heading to the local taverns or home to the comfort of family and an open fire. The executioner, a gloomy figure drabbed entirely in black, prepares the Gallows for the morning. Three men to be strung up for crimes against the town and borough of Galloway to be disclosed at time of execution to the general public. Lights from candles and gas lanterns begin to fill the windows, on the tighter streets in the town light coming from one window flickers on the walls across the road. It gives an atmospheric feeling while traveling the town. The city guards shift changes leading to a higher presence of guards in the open until it completes. Outside the town walls, woodsmen work late whittling away at the border of the Gallowglade, collecting logs and tolling back and fro, horse and cart dragging the wood back to the town depot. Yeomen, the highest rank any normal peasant can hope to achieve patrol the outskirts of the town on horseback keeping any eye out for anything strange, and questioning those entering or leaving the town. A couple of yeomen also observe the workers, lanterns emitting an eerie glow. The streets soon empty, at least to a level much less busy than during the day. Inside the numerous taverns around town the life of the city continues.</s>	<\|message\|>Balian Balian's previous days travel had taken him along the banks of the river Gallow, a tried, tested and timeless way of ensuring that as long as your not robbed or killed by bandits you'll make it to the town-stead of Galloway. He was not far from one of the two gates granting entrance to the town. Gorse had been spreading in the mild breezes that passed, the very thorny, evergreen bushes had blossomed their second and final abundance of yellow flowers. The ranger had thought about picking a load to flog off to one of the many traders in town, in plenty of towns he had passed over his years of travel the Gorse had been popular among the younger ladies coming into adulthood. However, he decided against it in favor of taking a proper night's rest in the first town he had decided to stay longer than a few hours in months. The sun beginning to set in the sky behind the walls and rooftops of Galloway looked almost picturesque, Balian shaded his eyes bringing a flat palm to his brow as he took in the scene. Taking a moment for a deep breath he hurried onwards, approaching the gate he was pulled away by a familiar voice, "Could it be? Has the midlands ranger returned?" The voice came in jest, the sort you would expect to be greeted with when a catch up with an old friend is long overdue. He turned his head to look at a man maybe a head shorter than Balian, a thin smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Balian, it's been too long." The man spoke as he approached the ranger, arms outspread. "You remember me don't you?" He teased. "How could I forget, Brother." Balian replied, embracing his friend for a moment. These men were not brothers by blood but a bond stronger. "Leon, it's good to see you." "Aye, that it is." Leon replied, "Well, what tales have you to share since… Well it must be near two years by now. And where's the lovely Morrigan you're so fond of?" Leon noticed a sudden, subtle change in Balian's eyes and before he could reply noted, "How about an ale? One thing I've always enjoyed about Galloway is the ale!" With that the ranger found himself relaying through the towns streets, catching up with his old friend. Despite being sunset, the town was still alive, merchants and vendors filled the market, children played games in the side streets while women carried baskets and guards stood at post, ensuring nothing under their eye goes astray. It didn't take the pair long to wind up in front of a dainty tavern. Certainly not the most extravagant tavern in Galloway but in the mind of Leon and Balian, the best. They found themselves sat by a table in a corner by the fire and over two tankards of Galloway Ale chat about anything and everything. Conversation lead on to seemingly unfounded rumors of Beastmen warbands already being this far South. Balian assured Leon that there was no such thing, having come from farther North with no signs of Beast Parties having come past the remains of Lindon yet. The tavern was quiet enough, a few other patrons sat quiet mostly, drinking their ale, contemplating the day coming to a close. Balian looked around nodding in acknowledgement as he made eye contact with one such patron, an older man who hadn't aged well and now spent his days in "The Retired Sword" drinking away memories past. The lighting in the tavern mostly came from the open fire, the sparse gas lanterns had been turned down low and most of the candles remained unlit. He took another drink, emptying his tankard and with his free hand wiped his upper lip of the froth on his lip as he put the tankard down. He took a small satchel and through a few silver crowns onto the table, "Next ones on me." --- Balian sat alone at the table he had been sharing with Leon, who had been rushed off by an associate, business was all the ranger managed to get from the conversation. That was like Leon, and it had been good to catch up with his old friend. It had grown darker outside, dusk had fallen over Galloway and Balian now warm and with a taste for the ale began to feel the fatigue of his journey. There was no doubt that he would be staying in the town at least one night, having secured one of the five guest rooms in the tavern. The warmth of the fire kept the whole tavern warm and the bar had begun fill out with more patrons flocking to it. The lighting in the tavern hadn't changed much yet, there was still not much need. The patrons talked about a lot of things, mostly rumors, Balian discerned from harmlessly eavesdropping into a few of their conversations. Pestilence, Beastmen, Undead. He wondered how much was true, the beastmen of course were not made up but none had made it this far South yet. A pestilence spreading from the east? And the dead rising from their graves? He decided to wave them off as rumors although he knew not to count anything out, and if true, it was times like these that brought out the doomsayers.</s>
<\|description\|>Balian Age: 34 Appearance: Balian stands at 5"10, his build is somewhere between slim and lean. Grey eyes chestnut brown hair and face almost always stubbled, his appearance is often seen as striking. His eyes lack life, probably from years spent on the road, only ever stopping for brief respites in towns and villages that he passed. Notable features are a small scar on his chin and skin tested by the elements. Class: Ranger Can handle bladed weapons as well, allowing them to defend themselves against approaching enemies or close in for the kill. Ranged is preferred style of combat. Alignment: Neutral Good Weapon(s): Armor/Clothing: As seen in picture. Also clad in a fine linen shirt, dark woolen hose and soft travel-worn leather boots, over his shirt Balian wears a jerkin secured by braided cord ties Personal Trinkets: Rabbit's foot (Lucky Charm) These take many shapes, but the most common are symbolic religious symbols that a pious priest has touched or carved heads of ancient Gods. The rabbit's foot is a symbol of good luck in many places of the world and is often threaded with a thin cord of leather or string Wooden Flute A simple wooden flute carved by Balian's father. He usually keeps it wrapped in a piece of cloth and kept away. Short History: Born to a master woodsman and a mill worker, Balian was taught from a young age the skills of being a woodsman. Even as a young lad he had a knack for navigation and survival skills. Balian is not shy of hard labor having worked all his young life. He spent all of this younger life in and around the midlands village he was born to, working and training. At age eight he was shown how to use a bow by his father for the first time and took to it like a duck to water, swordplay followed in an effort to teach his son how to defend himself if ever the need arose (as much as he did not want a violent life for Balian). It was in his teens that Balian decided he did not want to suffer the bondage of serfdom or peasantry his whole life but neither did he want the privilege associated with nobility. At age seventeen, Balian left his village starting on a journey to see as much of the world as he could and to live off of the land. Before he left his father presented him with a parting gift a wooden flute carved by himself. Leaving the village of Vale that day was the last time he saw his parents. After some five years travelling, Balian returned to Vale only to discover his father had succumbed to a sudden illness two years previous and his mother so stricken with grief at the loss of her son and now husband had hanged herself in the mill where she worked. With no ties to his birthplace he set off once again after a short respite and since has traveled, stopping from time-to-time for short respites in towns, villages and cities he would come across. He made sure never to allow himself to become too attached to people or towns always making it easier when time came to leave. However, Balian has at least one trusted friend in many of the different steads from South to North, relying on these as his source of information and news when he does stop. For a few years the ranger traveled with another, a woman by the name of Morrigan. Black hair, blue eyes and pale skin, Balian quickly became infatuated with her. During a stay at the village of Lindow they were awoken in the middle of the night by commotion, screams and cries filling the night air. A beastman warband had happened on the village in a raid, Balian pleaded with Morrigan to barricade herself indoors and once she agreed took himself outside into the middle of it all with sword and bow. The ranger was knocked unconscious in combat and when he awoke in the early hours of the morning the smell of burning, smoke and death filled his nostrils. In a daze he made his way to the inn, only to find it raised to the ground. Balian fell to his knees as his cries turned to a sour roar. It is since that day the ranger has taken it upon himself to actively hunt out Beast scouting parties, occasionally joining up with bands of rangers (many of whom share similar stories) to take on larger groups. It is the element of surprise, the ability to blend in with surroundings and that they pick the battlefield (usually woodland), that give Balian and other rangers alike the advantage over unsuspecting beastmen who have often been stalked for days like prey. Balian has been in Galloway only a short few hours although this is not his first visit to the town-stead. He has grown weary of the road and has not stopped in a town for longer than a few hours in months.</s> <\|message\|>Aelrath Teasen'rretyn Aelrath was making his way through town avoiding areas with large amounts of people. He knew how elves were treated and also knew that being half-human didn't make a difference as far as most people were concerned. Even with his hood there was a possibility it would shift in a way that would reveal his pointed ears. He needed a place to stay while he looked for the mage who was supposed to be in town, learning new mid to high difficulty spells took more than a day or two. He came to a stop outside a blacksmith's shop, he had not had a chance to temper and repair swords in over a week and fighting bandits on the way didn't help their condition. "Sorry to disturb you at this late hour but I was wondering if I could use your forge. I am willing to compensate you for your trouble," Aelrath said to the shop owner as he spoke he pulled out a handful of coins and laid them on the counter. "Yae ken use ma forge jus don burn da place down, eh mate?" The large man behind the counter said with a smile. Aelrath went to the back and was quickly absorbed in his work. Aelrath was polishing his swords when he heard the sound of the guards rushing through the streets. He considered staying put or looking for a place to stay but his curiosity won over. Plus, he figured that if there was a battle the mage he had come to seek out would appear. He quickly sheathed his swords and ran after the guards, he stuck to the shadows and used a wind element spell to lighten his footsteps so as to draw less attention. @SmileyJaws@Mesonyx@XenoCyanide</s> <\|message\|>Artemis Snowscar --- There was something comforting and hypnotic in sharpening blades. The constant, rhythmic sssshhk of the whetstone as it glided across the edge of his dirks sang him a lullaby. He found no sleep that night for the raucous in the main lobby was something of a bother. He wasn't overly worried about it, however, as he appreciated the time to sit and think. It had been a while since he had the respite of a warm bed within four walls. When you expected a cloaked figure to place a blade across your throat in the middle of the night, a deep and peaceful sleep is hard to come by in the wilderness. He had just looked at his maps, deciding where his next destination would be. So deep within his own mind he was that he barely noticed that the noise below had subsided. Lifting his head, he listened more intently. He could make out the scratching of plate and leather as they rubbed up against each other in a rhythm. The sound men made as they hurried in arms to wherever they were needed. He tried to discern how many of them there were but the noise was so chaotic, it was hard to tell. This intrigued him, as such a show of force was only necessary against a real threat and not some thief in the night. Rubbing the length of the blade on his dirks, he placed them back into the makeshift scabbards embedded in his waist sash. He then reached over and grasped his longsword, drawing the cords around his midsection and tightening it expertly. He thought a moment, deciding whether it was the most prudent move to grab his crossbow. If his past experience has taught him anything, is that there is never a wrong time for a ranged weapon and so he slung the bolts over his shoulder, letting the case rest at his mid-back and at a slight angle. The crossbow itself dangled in what appeared to be a three-point sling, and slid neatly back near his latissimus dorsi. He had taken off his regular clothing in favor of his armor after seeing several more guards rushing with what appeared to be purpose. Something was definitely wrong, and he would take no chances here. No way in hell he was dying in some backwater township. Strapping on his gambeson, mail and leather, and light-weight plates at his shoulders and forearms, he proceeded out of the tavern. Instead of following the road, however, he found an easy access to the wooden roofs of the town, making note of which were thatched and not to guide his footing. His hand hovered over his crossbow as he peered into the distance where the guards were running, his other hand resting gently on the hilt of his sword, lifting it so as to not scrape any surface with the tip. He kept his profile low and his stride was deadly quiet. As he skulked through the rooftops of the town, making his way towards the commotion, his mind could not help but wander to the possibilities. Had he finally found the dreaded beasts?</s> <\|message\|>Bjørn Ulfrikson --- With a tankard in his hand and his feet almost in the fire of the hearth in an attempt to dry his boots, Bjørn found himself satisfied for the day. He allowed a sigh to pass his lips before gulping down some ale, licking the remains out of his moustache. - Yes. These were the things he really appreciated after a long day of work. His arms had longed stopped aching from having gotten used to hard work, and his hands had gotten accustomed to the sting of wooden splinters from carrying around wooden logs all day. Still, it was work that had to be done and he was happy to help out and earn himself a drink and a warm plate at the end of the day. Slowly the sound of laughing, shouting, and singing had died down within the tavern as a group of armed men rushed by. Interested, some around him had gotten up to get to the window, trying to peer through it to see what was going on outside. Soon enough the mumbling started as people were beginning to assume things. One said something about bandits, another spoke of wolves, until everyone had another vague story about what was happening. More than once, however, beasts were mentioned. Easily drawn to battle, the idea that something was going on somewhere in or around town had Bjørn strangely excited. He had been looking over the rim of his drinking cup, staring out of the window where the last guard now quickly passed by, trying to keep up with his mates. Had it not been for the ale that now spilled past his lips, quickly dripping down his beard and onto his lap, he would've still been staring at that very same spot, waiting for something else to happen. Instead it made him snap out of it, cursing under his breath as he quickly wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Having decided that he wouldn't sit here while elsewhere there was chaos, so he rose to his full height, gulping down the remaining ale while his other hand was already resting on his axe. He ached for battle. He ached for danger. Slamming the tankard down, he then quickly made his way outside, pushing through the crowd and probably causing one or two patrons to get knocked off of their chairs. Not on purpose, might I say. As Bjørn left the warmth of the tavern behind, stepping out into the night, he could see some others leaving the building. He could just catch the glimpse of a man, whose face was hidden beneath his hood, pass by him. There was little attention paid to him as there were other matters on Ulfrikson's mind. He had to catch up with those guards. Though disliking it very much - which was still an understatement - he started to march down the road, following the path which he assumed the guards had taken. His heavy steps could be heard from a mile away as he continued his way through the labyrinth that was Galloway. Luckily he wasn't the only one who seemed to be tracking the men, for he soon decided to follow yet another cloaked figure. - What was it with these cloaks, though? Bjørn couldn't imagine a comfortable situation while running around with a hood pulled over your head which had to be sliding up and down, or wherever it decided to go, obstructing the wearer's sight. Or he just didn't know how to properly wear a cloak.</s>	<\|message\|>Balian The guards running down the street in force, lighting lanterns, it all seemed so ominous. With the sleeve of his shirt he wiped dust from the window peering out, the room was dark he could see the guards as they ran past below him, one almost saw him hanging back lighting lanterns but ultimately made his way to find his mates. Balian took up his bow and sword throwing his jerkin on over making his way across the small room, key in hand he opened the door he could hear other patrons coming. He jogged down the stairs and spotted the girl he'd seen around the tavern earlier, scarf pulled over her ears he followed suit. Once on the street he watched as a few others from the tavern had made their way outside, a tall man, his cloak askew caught Balian's attention and he made his way over, placing the back of his hand on the cloaked male as he made his way up beside him, "What's going on?" He asked, within earshot of the barmaid. - Eventually catching up to the guards by the eastern wall they stood, scattered among the market stalls that littered the plaza. "Beasts!" One of the guards yelled before the clatter of sword on axe rang through the bazaar. Balian tried to spot how many were around but it had grown dark, the clouds shifted and the moon lit up the ladder against the wall, another hoofed figure, cloaked climbed over. "Up there!" He yelled, gesturing slinging his jerkin on he mounted his sword and notched an arrow, he loosed it and hit the beast in but it kept going, undeterred by the marksman. In order to know how many there truly were they'd have to get up on the wall and have a look over, who knew how many waited beyond the wall although Balian had his guess from their appearance and behavior that it was a small raiding party, probably around twenty or so. He dashed for the stairs that lead up to the battlements. Climbing them he found himself face to face with the beast he'd struck with an arrow. Balian took a few cautious steps backwards drawing his sword, both hands on the hilt, he tightened his grip in the slight hesitation. Trying to glance between the embrasure did little good, he was not at the right place to get a good look at the attackers, from the sounds below however a few had already made their way into the town, probably not expecting to get caught. Balian was charged and raised his sword parrying the blow of an axe, he had nearly crumpled under it, nearly forgetting their brute strength. The fight went back and forth for a couple of minutes, but neither one could land the blow. The ranger found himself backed into a corner, he looked down upon impending doom and scowled before with all his might kicking the beast in the guttural area. He'd almost lost his own balance, catching himself the beast was left open having had to regain it's own footing. It was quick, the lunge that brought about the end, the blade of the sword swallowed whole by the creature's throat. Balian pulled his weapon free as the beast hit the ground and had spotted two more coming down the battlements, he cursed and retreated down the steps back to the bazarr, looking around for any of his fellow adventurers or guards.</s>
<\|description\|>Artemis Snowscar Age: 28 Appearance: Class: Infiltrator Handles bladed weapons very well and is an accurate marksman with a crossbow. Preference is to flank the enemy, attacking weak points. Employs dirty tactics to win fights. Utilizes subterfuge, obfuscation, and alchemy to achieve his goals. Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (True Neutral Inclinations) Weapon(s): Armor/Clothing: The attire worn is usually either leather or hide for ease of movement, with metallic plates over his shoulders and forearms to provide protection and deflection. Only employs a mask when on a hunt, which otherwise he wears the clothing of the local populace to better blend in. Personal trinkets: Wedding Band Short History: Artemis was born on the eastern edge of Mournhold along the banks of a river. It was a small hamlet comprised of simple people with simple lives. His father was a learned man with a trouble past and decided to make Coolwater his home, perhaps running from tragedy. His mother was a seamstress while his father took care of the hamlet's more political machinations, acting as a liaison between the crown and the town. He held no true political office, but being one of the few men who could read, write, and orate in the town, the burden laid on him. His father had a hidden flaw, however. He was a gambler, and a bad one at that. His addiction is one of the things he was running from, but one night when soldiers from the crown were passing through from one township to another, he took to the drink, and took to the cards. It wasn't long before he had lost everything. His home. His wife's business. Even his station. Worst of all, he lost his son. Artemis was only ten years old, still a child at heart. He wanted nothing more than to run amongst the cornfields, play soldier with his friends, and get weirded out by the young girls who would tease him. It was a time where the kingdom needed to bolster its ranks, fearing retribution from neighboring warbands and raiding parties, these soldiers were tasked with searching for capable men and women. Thrown into a cage like some beast, he was hauled away to a weeping mother and a distraught father. He would never see them again and learned years later that his mother took her own life, walking into the river that bore them so much life and drowning herself and his father never woke up one day from a night of drink. It has been so long he had forgotten their names and their faces. For the next eight years Artemis was in the service of the crown, being taught everything from stabling horses to sword play. He was a rebellious boy at first, ashamed and afraid of being torn away from the only life that he knew, but slowly over time, began to accept his life for what it was: Fodder for a king he never met to a kingdom he didn't understand. It wasn't long before those in charge of him noticed that Artemis embodied a certain quality about him. He didn't stand out. He was never at the top of his class nor at the bottom. Those that paid attention, however, saw that he was exceptional with the blade, but lost duels on purpose. His looks were unremarkable and he wasn't the largest of men. Unimposing, even. A lieutenant took notice of the boy and took him before another man. Artemis learned never to be frightened by mortal flesh, for all that bleeds can die. But this man unnerved him. Something about him just seemed… off. The next several years were steeped in darkness. He was taught to blend in. Manipulate. Coerce. Prepare alchemical concoctions to paralyze or to kill. When he was deemed ready, he was given to task. At first, they were innocent enough. Befriend a local merchant or eavesdrop on a conversation in a tavern. All with the purpose of gaining information. Of course, innocence never lasts, and the darker part of his life began to take form. Steel would enter flesh, silently as a whisper in the wind. Blood would spill across wooden floors, never to creak and betray his existence to the world. This is who he was. That is, even a man such as he can find love. Mournhold was hell embodied to Artemis. His entire life he saw nothing but the worst of man. Pedophiles and rapists, running from the crown, would not run very far. Corrupt politicians with the proclivity towards sadism, using their connections to keep from the executioner's axe, mysteriously died in their sleep, comfortable under silken sheets in their mansions. In all of this, Artemis found her. Raven-haired Victoria, with a smile that could cut even the thickest of chains and a touch that would woo the soul of the most berserked man. In secret they married as he feared his employer would disapprove and their disapproval usually meant that one was not long for this world. In the end it wasn't the Crown that betrayed his heart. It was these… beastman. Victoria had convinced Artemis to visit his childhood home, having used some excuse as to why he had left in the first place. Perhaps he went to find solace and peace with his past but all he could muster was the venom against his father. His father, a man so deeply pained, killed his wife and lost his only son, and couldn't even be man enough to do something about it. Upon his return, Artemis was met with ruin. Buildings smoldering and crushed bodies. Soldiers sifting through the debris, either trying to find survivors or looking to plunder whatever meager riches these peasants had. Something broke inside of Artemis that day. Whatever demons he compartmentalized away throughout the years began to break free, that delicate wall he had built cracking under the pressure. This was almost a year ago. Ever since, he has been running and hunting. His main objective was to be a culling. The very apocalypse in which these beastman fear. It was in every town he went to, not beastman to kill, but men and women with such evil hearts and black souls. Retribution was not far behind. Gear: * Waterskin * Rope * Firestriker * Whetstone * Carving knife * Bedroll * Alchemical Bag</s> <\|message\|>Balian Location: The Retired Sword, Galloway Weather: Misty Rain, light winds. Time of Day: Nightfall From the outside, the inn seemed much like the rest of Galloway in appearance. It had been difficult to look through the windows but as you entered through the thick, wooden door; groans welcome you. It's as dreary inside as it is on the out. Hardwood beams support the upper floor and the lanterns attached to them. The walls have a few pictures here and there, though the dust stops you from taking a closer look. Locals seem to be the primary clientele here. The patrons appear dangerous in one way or another, but whoever they are, you'd prefer not to look at them the wrong way, save a fight that would get you locked up in barracks cages until they decide to let you go. You did hear rumors about this tavern, supposedly it's infamous for something, but for the life of you you can't remember what for. Though judging by everything you've seen so far, you don't really care and you probably don't want to know. As night takes hold, the inn has grown full and lively as it dwells further into the night. Our adventurers find themselves either joining the festivities or still awake in the tavern because with all the noise they find themselves unable to sleep. Occasionally the howl of a wolf pierces the ears of the patrons, the sound is chilling but doesn't impede on the festivities. A fog had rolled over the town having been approaching for quite a while giving a completely different atmosphere to the town streets, many of the lanterns no longer burning for another night. Suddenly, it grew quiet as a flock of armored guard, swords, halberds or crossbows at the ready ran down the street past the inn the thudding of their leather boots rushed. One guard passing lit the lanterns hanging outside buildings as they could, but was trying to keep up with his comrades. For whatever reason took them, the adventurers are drawn to it, they approach the door and flood onto the street.</s> <\|message\|>Evaline Summerfall Evaline Summerfall Evaline was alone in the now empty tavern, sweeping floors, wiping down tables and cleaning dishes. The rain began to patter on this windows as she was setting up the trays for the tenants breakfast. She stopped for a moment and just listened to the rain. She began humming a lullaby to herself, one that her mother used to sing to her on rainy nights. It was an old elven one that isn't sung very often, especially among men but, Evaline didn't see any harm in it as no one else was around. In the distance she heard the sounds of several footsteps heading her way. She peeked her head outside the door and saw armed guards running down the street. Evaline quickly ran down to her room and dressed in her cloak with all her essentials at hand, her scarf still wrapped neatly around her ears. She heard the footsteps of some of the tenants above her as well but, didn't pay it any mind, she had to know what was going on. Evaline scurried up the stairs to the tavern and slipped out the door as the last guard went along lighting lanterns as he went. She looked down the road the way they came, seeing heads peak out of doorways then quickly slip inside their homes. She pulled the hood of the cloak over her head to see through the rain and quietly followed in the shadows where the guards were headed. She glanced back at the tavern and saw a few others leaving it then continued to follow, watching and listening. Something inside her told her this was important, maybe she would learn something of the whereabouts of her mother or, perhaps someone was injured or would be injured and she could assist in that way.</s> <\|message\|>Aelrath Teasen'rretyn Aelrath was making his way through town avoiding areas with large amounts of people. He knew how elves were treated and also knew that being half-human didn't make a difference as far as most people were concerned. Even with his hood there was a possibility it would shift in a way that would reveal his pointed ears. He needed a place to stay while he looked for the mage who was supposed to be in town, learning new mid to high difficulty spells took more than a day or two. He came to a stop outside a blacksmith's shop, he had not had a chance to temper and repair swords in over a week and fighting bandits on the way didn't help their condition. "Sorry to disturb you at this late hour but I was wondering if I could use your forge. I am willing to compensate you for your trouble," Aelrath said to the shop owner as he spoke he pulled out a handful of coins and laid them on the counter. "Yae ken use ma forge jus don burn da place down, eh mate?" The large man behind the counter said with a smile. Aelrath went to the back and was quickly absorbed in his work. Aelrath was polishing his swords when he heard the sound of the guards rushing through the streets. He considered staying put or looking for a place to stay but his curiosity won over. Plus, he figured that if there was a battle the mage he had come to seek out would appear. He quickly sheathed his swords and ran after the guards, he stuck to the shadows and used a wind element spell to lighten his footsteps so as to draw less attention. @SmileyJaws@Mesonyx@XenoCyanide</s>	<\|message\|>Artemis Snowscar There was something comforting and hypnotic in sharpening blades. The constant, rhythmic sssshhk of the whetstone as it glided across the edge of his dirks sang him a lullaby. He found no sleep that night for the raucous in the main lobby was something of a bother. He wasn't overly worried about it, however, as he appreciated the time to sit and think. It had been a while since he had the respite of a warm bed within four walls. When you expected a cloaked figure to place a blade across your throat in the middle of the night, a deep and peaceful sleep is hard to come by in the wilderness. He had just looked at his maps, deciding where his next destination would be. So deep within his own mind he was that he barely noticed that the noise below had subsided. Lifting his head, he listened more intently. He could make out the scratching of plate and leather as they rubbed up against each other in a rhythm. The sound men made as they hurried in arms to wherever they were needed. He tried to discern how many of them there were but the noise was so chaotic, it was hard to tell. This intrigued him, as such a show of force was only necessary against a real threat and not some thief in the night. Rubbing the length of the blade on his dirks, he placed them back into the makeshift scabbards embedded in his waist sash. He then reached over and grasped his longsword, drawing the cords around his midsection and tightening it expertly. He thought a moment, deciding whether it was the most prudent move to grab his crossbow. If his past experience has taught him anything, is that there is never a wrong time for a ranged weapon and so he slung the bolts over his shoulder, letting the case rest at his mid-back and at a slight angle. The crossbow itself dangled in what appeared to be a three-point sling, and slid neatly back near his latissimus dorsi. He had taken off his regular clothing in favor of his armor after seeing several more guards rushing with what appeared to be purpose. Something was definitely wrong, and he would take no chances here. No way in hell he was dying in some backwater township. Strapping on his gambeson, mail and leather, and light-weight plates at his shoulders and forearms, he proceeded out of the tavern. Instead of following the road, however, he found an easy access to the wooden roofs of the town, making note of which were thatched and not to guide his footing. His hand hovered over his crossbow as he peered into the distance where the guards were running, his other hand resting gently on the hilt of his sword, lifting it so as to not scrape any surface with the tip. He kept his profile low and his stride was deadly quiet. As he skulked through the rooftops of the town, making his way towards the commotion, his mind could not help but wander to the possibilities. Had he finally found the dreaded beasts?</s>
<\|description\|>Bjørn Ulfrikson Age: 41 yo Appearance: Bjørn Ulfrikson, 6'2" tall and padded with muscle, is a tough looking creature. His brown manes - which includes his beard - show the first traces of grey, much against his liking. His eerily cold eye, its colour best described as colourless or pale, is often fixated on either ale or an attractive individual - most probably ale, while his other eye lays hidden beneath a thick, ugly scar which was the result of a dispute with the local guardsmen. The sides of his skull are shaved and decorated with black - slightly faded - ink which creeps down his neck where it continues to flow over his shoulders, down his arms and towards his hands. The lines often interrupted by thick scars and scrapes from battle and brawls. Class: Berserker; The Berserker is a character who throws himself into a fight with such reckless abandon, it almost seems a death wish. It could be over-enthusiasm, overconfidence, or an unstoppable, blinding rage that fuels him. Berserkers are equally capable of being good or evil, but almost always chaotic in their ways. They regularly have to be reminded by their teammates to control themselves after a particularly close call. The berserkr of Viking-age Scandinavia: Warriors who are said to have thrown themselves into battle wearing only animal hides for armour and with no regard for their own safety. Their 'battle-madness', whose exact nature is presently unknown (some say it came from eating weird mushrooms before a battle) is said to have been a gift from the Gods. The word "berserkr" means "Bear-shirt" in Old Norse, referring to either their going into battle with the ferocity of bears or for wearing bear pelts into battle. Their effectiveness in battle is up for debate, but they were an imposing and terrifying nightmare to the continental Europeans — and, if The Icelandic Sagas are to be trusted, to their own civilization. 'His men rushed forwards without armour, were as mad as dogs or wolves, bit their shields, and were strong as bears or wild oxen, and killed people at a blow, but neither fire nor iron told upon them.' Snorri Sturluson (1179–1241) Ynglinga saga Alignment: Chaotically Neutral Weapon(s): He'll carry with him his beloved axe, also used to chop wood whenever in need of a campfire, which he forged himself at the beginning of his journey. Found in his other hand - when not an ale - or on his back, he has a wooden, round shield which has seen better days and is in dire need of a repair or replacement. Hanging from his belt he'll also have a sharp, dagger-like knife which he uses to skin animals with, or - whenever needed - serves as a useful weapon against his enemies. Armor/Clothing: For battle, or quests, during colder months, he wears a sleeveless mail shirt formed of interlinked, riveted rings. It's mostly covered by thick furs and skins to make Bjørn look even broader than he already is. He'll have a bear-skin draped over his shoulder, its head sown on wolf-pelt to create a warm hood and rather disturbing sight. During the warmer months, however, he wears a loin-cloth'like piece of dark fabric, underneath which - when not too warm - a tight pair of pants with leather boots and around his waist a massive gut belt, also functioning as armour to protect some of his vital organs. He'll always dress to impress, having to seem intimidating in a way. So he'll most likely carry furs or animal bones with him to create such illusion. Personal trinkets: * Personal + Father's ring; given to him by his uncle after the fire. + Grizzly claw; hanging from his neck he displays the claws of a massive beast, the same creature once owned the thick fur that now hangs from Bjørn's shoulder. * Functional + Knife (Weapon + Tool) + Axe (Weapon + Tool) + Whetstone + Flint and Steel + Tinder + Waterskin; most probably filled with an alcoholic beverage Short History: Bjørn was born and raised in a mountainous township which was well-known for mining. His parents had raised him in a strict way and hoped he'd one day would take over his father's mining company, but after years they gave up on that idea. Young Bjørn just wasn't great student and had no interest in maths or economy. His interest laid beyond the safe walls of his home. He had always dreamt of being an adventurer, or a soldier serving the crown. He wanted to explore and help people out, but his parents didn't approve. One day when Bjørn was fifteen years of age, the king's men came to inspect his father's mining business, like they did often. There was always trouble between the king and his dad. The crown demanded a lower price, but his father had declined. They had lowered the price three times already that year. But his refusal had been the last straw. The young Bjørn was helping out at the mines when he saw the flames arising from his home. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, but when he arrived his home had already been devoured by flames and his parents buried beneath the embers. Bjørn grew a hatred towards the men who carried with them the king's sigil. He had realised that day that there was nothing lawful about them. His uncle let him live with him and his wife, they raised him like he was one of their own. His uncle had been a worker in the mines and took his father's position while teaching Bjørn the ropes of mining itself. He grew older and stronger in the dark, picking stone until his muscles ached, day-after-day. Then one morning he said his goodbyes, leaving his home to seek the men who had taken his parents from him. Of course, too many years had passed for him to find them. Their faces had faded from his memory and their traces disappeared over time. He wasn't in peace, but he decided that helping others out would at least ease the still aching pain. Now traveling the land, he helps out wherever he can; keeping trade-routes safe, farmers who need an extra hand during the harvest, and more. These days, while being in the area, he spends his hours drinking and brawling with the local louts at 'The Retired Sword'. Personality: Bjørn Ulfrikson lives up to his name; he's a musclebound goliath of great proportions. He's large, a little hairy and richly decorated with ink.. - Did I mention that he's large? With his axe in one hand and a mug of ale in the other, he's often found causing havoc in taverns and other places of merriment. This bulky character is easily the brains of the group due to his vast knowledge of shapes and colours. - Okay, he's clearly the muscle and not one to be trusted with difficult decision making. His intelligence has proven problematic in the past; Violence is his preferred approach. Quick and easy. But don't get fooled by those bulky arms and intimidating gaze. This ale-loving man could easily become your best friend. He's as loyal as a dog and would never leave someone behind. This (surprisingly huggable) giant's laughter could warm the coldest of hearts and he has proven himself to be more compassionate than people, and he himself, expect him to be. He has a good sense of right and wrong and serves justice as he deems fit, which might not always be the lawful way.</s> <\|message\|>Aelrath Teasen'rretyn Aelrath was making his way through town avoiding areas with large amounts of people. He knew how elves were treated and also knew that being half-human didn't make a difference as far as most people were concerned. Even with his hood there was a possibility it would shift in a way that would reveal his pointed ears. He needed a place to stay while he looked for the mage who was supposed to be in town, learning new mid to high difficulty spells took more than a day or two. He came to a stop outside a blacksmith's shop, he had not had a chance to temper and repair swords in over a week and fighting bandits on the way didn't help their condition. "Sorry to disturb you at this late hour but I was wondering if I could use your forge. I am willing to compensate you for your trouble," Aelrath said to the shop owner as he spoke he pulled out a handful of coins and laid them on the counter. "Yae ken use ma forge jus don burn da place down, eh mate?" The large man behind the counter said with a smile. Aelrath went to the back and was quickly absorbed in his work. Aelrath was polishing his swords when he heard the sound of the guards rushing through the streets. He considered staying put or looking for a place to stay but his curiosity won over. Plus, he figured that if there was a battle the mage he had come to seek out would appear. He quickly sheathed his swords and ran after the guards, he stuck to the shadows and used a wind element spell to lighten his footsteps so as to draw less attention. @SmileyJaws@Mesonyx@XenoCyanide</s> <\|message\|>Artemis Snowscar --- There was something comforting and hypnotic in sharpening blades. The constant, rhythmic sssshhk of the whetstone as it glided across the edge of his dirks sang him a lullaby. He found no sleep that night for the raucous in the main lobby was something of a bother. He wasn't overly worried about it, however, as he appreciated the time to sit and think. It had been a while since he had the respite of a warm bed within four walls. When you expected a cloaked figure to place a blade across your throat in the middle of the night, a deep and peaceful sleep is hard to come by in the wilderness. He had just looked at his maps, deciding where his next destination would be. So deep within his own mind he was that he barely noticed that the noise below had subsided. Lifting his head, he listened more intently. He could make out the scratching of plate and leather as they rubbed up against each other in a rhythm. The sound men made as they hurried in arms to wherever they were needed. He tried to discern how many of them there were but the noise was so chaotic, it was hard to tell. This intrigued him, as such a show of force was only necessary against a real threat and not some thief in the night. Rubbing the length of the blade on his dirks, he placed them back into the makeshift scabbards embedded in his waist sash. He then reached over and grasped his longsword, drawing the cords around his midsection and tightening it expertly. He thought a moment, deciding whether it was the most prudent move to grab his crossbow. If his past experience has taught him anything, is that there is never a wrong time for a ranged weapon and so he slung the bolts over his shoulder, letting the case rest at his mid-back and at a slight angle. The crossbow itself dangled in what appeared to be a three-point sling, and slid neatly back near his latissimus dorsi. He had taken off his regular clothing in favor of his armor after seeing several more guards rushing with what appeared to be purpose. Something was definitely wrong, and he would take no chances here. No way in hell he was dying in some backwater township. Strapping on his gambeson, mail and leather, and light-weight plates at his shoulders and forearms, he proceeded out of the tavern. Instead of following the road, however, he found an easy access to the wooden roofs of the town, making note of which were thatched and not to guide his footing. His hand hovered over his crossbow as he peered into the distance where the guards were running, his other hand resting gently on the hilt of his sword, lifting it so as to not scrape any surface with the tip. He kept his profile low and his stride was deadly quiet. As he skulked through the rooftops of the town, making his way towards the commotion, his mind could not help but wander to the possibilities. Had he finally found the dreaded beasts?</s>	<\|message\|>Bjørn Ulfrikson With a tankard in his hand and his feet almost in the fire of the hearth in an attempt to dry his boots, Bjørn found himself satisfied for the day. He allowed a sigh to pass his lips before gulping down some ale, licking the remains out of his moustache. - Yes. These were the things he really appreciated after a long day of work. His arms had longed stopped aching from having gotten used to hard work, and his hands had gotten accustomed to the sting of wooden splinters from carrying around wooden logs all day. Still, it was work that had to be done and he was happy to help out and earn himself a drink and a warm plate at the end of the day. Slowly the sound of laughing, shouting, and singing had died down within the tavern as a group of armed men rushed by. Interested, some around him had gotten up to get to the window, trying to peer through it to see what was going on outside. Soon enough the mumbling started as people were beginning to assume things. One said something about bandits, another spoke of wolves, until everyone had another vague story about what was happening. More than once, however, beasts were mentioned. Easily drawn to battle, the idea that something was going on somewhere in or around town had Bjørn strangely excited. He had been looking over the rim of his drinking cup, staring out of the window where the last guard now quickly passed by, trying to keep up with his mates. Had it not been for the ale that now spilled past his lips, quickly dripping down his beard and onto his lap, he would've still been staring at that very same spot, waiting for something else to happen. Instead it made him snap out of it, cursing under his breath as he quickly wiped his chin with the back of his hand. Having decided that he wouldn't sit here while elsewhere there was chaos, so he rose to his full height, gulping down the remaining ale while his other hand was already resting on his axe. He ached for battle. He ached for danger. Slamming the tankard down, he then quickly made his way outside, pushing through the crowd and probably causing one or two patrons to get knocked off of their chairs. Not on purpose, might I say. As Bjørn left the warmth of the tavern behind, stepping out into the night, he could see some others leaving the building. He could just catch the glimpse of a man, whose face was hidden beneath his hood, pass by him. There was little attention paid to him as there were other matters on Ulfrikson's mind. He had to catch up with those guards. Though disliking it very much - which was still an understatement - he started to march down the road, following the path which he assumed the guards had taken. His heavy steps could be heard from a mile away as he continued his way through the labyrinth that was Galloway. Luckily he wasn't the only one who seemed to be tracking the men, for he soon decided to follow yet another cloaked figure. - What was it with these cloaks, though? Bjørn couldn't imagine a comfortable situation while running around with a hood pulled over your head which had to be sliding up and down, or wherever it decided to go, obstructing the wearer's sight. Or he just didn't know how to properly wear a cloak.</s>
<\|description\|>Kyle Lucidius Age: 33 Gender: Male Appearance: Kyle stands at five feet eleven inches and weighs approximately 170 pounds. He has a beard which he keeps trimmed neatly and short, brown hair. He has no visible scars on his face, but his torso is marred with them. From bullet holes to slashes to burns, a chronicle of his past horrors detailed on his body. Personality: Kyle is, for all intents and purposes, a loner. He is quiet most of the time but when he speaks, his tone is even and does not betray emotion. He is of incredible constitution, both mentally and physically, and one of the reasons why he was chosen for his particular occupation. He harbors no ill will towards those that are Touched but this does not mean that they do not haunt him. When alone, he relives every murder. Background: Born into a world that fears what it doesn't understand, Kyle was raised with fear and suspicion. His parents instilled this distrust in him at an early age as it was law to report any suspicious persons who may have been Touched. For this reason Kyle did not make many friends while he was growing up, preferring instead the company of long-dead poets and authors. In an attempt to escape his condemned life, he joined the military and in his naivety, hoped to understand the world. This eventually led to his recruitment into their special forces where he learned many things from marksmanship to stealth but most importantly, he learned how to disconnect from killing. After he completed his tour of duty, he had no prospects in the civilian sector. His skills were not something many employers wanted. One decision when he was younger marked him for the rest of his life as nothing more than a trigger man so that is what he became. Enlisting into the services of a private organization, charged with the contract of finding, detaining, or eliminating the Touched, this has been his life for the past year. It wasn't with some irony that he himself would begin to manifest his own powers. Whether they were latent within him from birth or the fates deciding to punish him for his chosen life he did not know. However, his greatest challenge laid ahead. He will eventually be hunted himself and those that he hunted in the past will soon become his allies... or worse. Abilities: * Telekinesis * Pyrokinesis * Psychometry Weapon(s): * Ka-Bar Military Knife * SRSA1 Stealth Recon Scout Sniper Rifle * Springfield XD-S 4" .45ACP</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: Motel Time: 2:25 A.M. --- Is there a God? I wonder if anyone still believes in that cruel, vile son of a bitch. He stared at the end table, eyeing the empty glass. The motel was dark aside from the meager light that shined from a desk lamp that had all but one bulb burnt out. He sat at the edge of that uncomfortable bed, elbows resting on his thighs. The dingy interior of this motel was nothing short of decrepit but on the upside he still hasn't found any roaches. He didn't blink for quite some time, idly rubbing his hands together. He wondered many things throughout his life, but one question kept resurfacing as of late. The irony of it all. He reached between his legs and unscrewed the cap off the bottle. Jameson was his go-to drink. It burned enough to still let him know this wasn't all a dream. Funny as it was, it grounded him. It forced him to accept his fate even tho try as he might to escape it. Pouring himself two-fingers worth in the glass, he returned the bottle back onto the floor. He knew he still had a job to do, the files placed neatly in the brown folder next to him. He sighed, clutching the glass like it was his lifeline. Staring deep into the abyss of the bottom of that glass, he pondered a thought. I wonder who they will send after me. Reyes? Oscar? That sadistic fuck Benson? The prospect of it almost didn't seem real, but that burn definitely was. Taking the glass to his lips, he threw it back into his throat. The next step was the set-up. The preparation was complete. He knew the target. Memorized the face. Oh, the faces. They never went away. They never will, will they? For he is the messenger of God, sent to strike fear into the hearts of those who oppose him. With great fury will the sword strike against the wicked and condemned. The biblical God no longer existed. It didn't need to. The dredges of humanity have definitely taken up the mantle, hiding behind their suits and ties and mahogany desks. For now, though, he was the force behind the sword. He gathered his things for the night ahead. He wore regular street clothes. A t-shirt he found at Spencers of some band he never heard of laid over by a gray zip-up hoodie. His jeans were that retro faded crap he saw people wearing at times. The only thing functional were his boots, which he hid with the hem of his pants. He holstered his pistol at his side and placed a switchblade knife into his pocket. Funny story about that switchblade. Took it off some punk who wanted his wallet a few nights prior. Suppose he should've thanked him as opposed to break his jaw. His traditional Ka-Bar knife was far too conspicuous in this outfit. He placed the files into a briefcase that sat at the edge of his bed and zipped up his go-bag. One last look around the motel, he headed out the door. --- Location: City Streets Time: 2:48 A.M. --- The city was quiet tonight. He couldn't hear the yelling bouncing off the old, brick buildings of kids who would surely skip class the next day. Not even the cabs hauling their drunk patrons or spouses from their night of infidelity were out in abundance. There was something in the air tonight, Kyle could feel it. He had grown to have a sense about these things. A preternatural "sixth sense", as it were. He kept his hands in his pocket, tho he had cut a hole open in the right one to allow him to grab his pistol at a moments notice. His hood was pulled up, like any hoodlum roaming the dark streets of this city. His right hand slipped subtly towards the Springfield pistol, gauging the distance and reaction time it would take if shit went sideways. He knew exactly where it was, doing it more for the mental comfort. His target destination was a park not too far from the motel. It took him exactly twelve minutes to reach it, having walked the path several times before. He wasn't sure why his mark enjoyed the park so late at night especially in the deep city. He figured she could protect herself, being Touched after all, so the danger was negligible to her. She sat at the park bench for what seemed like hours sometimes staring off into space. He knew why, of course. Her dossier told him everything. Her mother was murdered in that park by a group of men looking to get some easy money. A simple robbery took a turn for the worse, though. She was raped and beaten, left to die in some bushes. A tragic tale. He supposed she hoped the same men would come wandering back around and she would present herself as the victim. When he arrived in the park she wasn't there yet. She arrived around three in the morning. He picked a spot that overlooked the bench and jogging trail and waited.</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: Hoffand Park Time: 2:50 A.M. --- A lone blonde woman was walking along the path that went throughout the park early in the morning. It was still dark and peacefully quiet, giving her time to think as she traveled along the trail. No children insanely running around and being the young lunatics that they were. No screaming taxi drivers, groups of friends, arguing couples. It was completely silent other than the occasional rustle of bushes and leaves skidding across the ground. Anastasia enjoyed this time where the city was quiet. The time where everybody rested and the night owls roamed to have their peace. The air was a nice cool temperature, the woman only having a thin navy jacket, black jeans, and fluffy boots to keep her warm. She enjoyed the weather at this time, wishing that time didn't pass and it could stay that way forever. Her mind would fade blank as she took her slow but long strides along the park path. Walking this way many times before, Anastasia didn't have to look up from her boots as she walked. Her feet guided her way through the area as she began to question herself. Thinking about the world they were in, and why it couldn't be as peaceful as it was now. I wonder if anyone will find out. No, none of the people should know by now. It was only just beginning and she never used 'it' around anybody. Maybe there's cameras that detect 'them'. What if there's technology that can find those people? There can't be. If there were devices that could hunt down 'them', people wouldn't be paid to find them. What if somebody is here right now for me? This thought made Anastasia quickly stop on her tracks, looking around to her surroundings. An empty bench was nearby with a few lights to keep the pathway bright. It was a comfortable place to take a rest on and tempted her to go over. It was almost three. People might be waking up and begin wandering soon. She could either get back to her motel room nearby or take the last few moments resting in that peaceful area. It gave her a lonely feeling. Sitting there alone on that bench with nobody beside her. But the cityfolk were also crazies, causing fights between their own kind even if they're on the same side of society. She didn't want to sit with some stranger that could be a murderer. Although the thoughts may have been bugging her, she decided to sit down on the bench anyway. Her thighs pressed together slightly in the cold shadows as her hands moved towards her hood, pulling it over her face and darkening the view.</s>	<\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: Hoffand Park Time: 3:00 A.M. --- It was chilly that night, but not quite so for the wind was barely blowing. You could hear the occasional rustle of leaves as they were pushed across the paths but not much else. The quiet was serene. Welcoming, even. Not many people took the time for contemplative reflection. Their lives were taken over by schedules and meetings and brunches. Did they want a venti frappuccino or a grande mocha latte? The trivialities were as such that if you were to take away this illusion of freedom they would kick and scream, throwing a fit like an undisciplined child. Kyle barely stirred as a woman entered his eyesight. She pulled the jacket tightly around her as she sat on the bench, knees coming together either out of modesty or comfort. His head tilted slightly, his finger gently running across the grip of the weapon hidden behind his jacket like a lover. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, natural night vision taking in all the ambient light around him. The woman had pulled the hood up over her head, so he couldn't make out any details of her face but he saw that she was a blonde before she sat down. There was a lamp post not too far away from the bench pushing shadows across the ground as if hands clawing at any who pass by. The branches swayed in the wind and whistled with trepidation. Kyle barely moved when he noticed another coming down the path. The strawberry blonde-haired woman walked the opposite direction from where the first woman came, wearing a long overcoat pulled at her midsection, accentuating her assets. She slowed when she saw Ana, curious to see another in this wretched park at the witching hour. She continued, tho, the clicking of her heels against the pavement stones being the only sound that pierced the night air. She was a beautiful woman. Five feet five inches tall with inviting green eyes. Olive skin wrapped around a lithe frame. Her hair was slightly curly and bounced with every step she took. The woman moved gracefully toward Ana taking the seat next to her. "Good morning." She spoke softly in a tone that dripped of honey. "Don't see many other people here at this hour... except them." She said, gesturing toward what appeared to be a homeless person clutching a worn coat over their frame. If one would listen closely, you could hear the shivers between his incoherent ramblings to himself. A city was built on tragedy. It forgot those that needed to be seen the most and cast aside those that needed to be embraced. Life was, with no reservation, cruel and unjust. After a brief pause, the woman looked toward Ana whispering, "My name is Victoria." Kyle looked on as the two women sat together. He knew the second woman was his target. He had watched her for weeks taking in every detail about her. Her gait and graceful walk. The way she smiled and greeted strangers with a nod of her head. Kyle liked to make a game of it in his mind. Like star-crossed lovers reaching out to each other. In some distant past perhaps they could have been together, raising a family and loving each other. The reality of it was, this is how Kyle coped. It was as if he was writing a novel and nothing he did was real. The texture of the grip running across the pad of his finger spoke others. Silently, he moved from his position, cutting around wide as to not attract attention. He stuck to the shadows and watched the placement of his feet as he flanked the bench. This new woman, however... It complicated things.</s>
<\|description\|>Kyle Lucidius Age: 33 Gender: Male Appearance: Kyle stands at five feet eleven inches and weighs approximately 170 pounds. He has a beard which he keeps trimmed neatly and short, brown hair. He has no visible scars on his face, but his torso is marred with them. From bullet holes to slashes to burns, a chronicle of his past horrors detailed on his body. Personality: Kyle is, for all intents and purposes, a loner. He is quiet most of the time but when he speaks, his tone is even and does not betray emotion. He is of incredible constitution, both mentally and physically, and one of the reasons why he was chosen for his particular occupation. He harbors no ill will towards those that are Touched but this does not mean that they do not haunt him. When alone, he relives every murder. Background: Born into a world that fears what it doesn't understand, Kyle was raised with fear and suspicion. His parents instilled this distrust in him at an early age as it was law to report any suspicious persons who may have been Touched. For this reason Kyle did not make many friends while he was growing up, preferring instead the company of long-dead poets and authors. In an attempt to escape his condemned life, he joined the military and in his naivety, hoped to understand the world. This eventually led to his recruitment into their special forces where he learned many things from marksmanship to stealth but most importantly, he learned how to disconnect from killing. After he completed his tour of duty, he had no prospects in the civilian sector. His skills were not something many employers wanted. One decision when he was younger marked him for the rest of his life as nothing more than a trigger man so that is what he became. Enlisting into the services of a private organization, charged with the contract of finding, detaining, or eliminating the Touched, this has been his life for the past year. It wasn't with some irony that he himself would begin to manifest his own powers. Whether they were latent within him from birth or the fates deciding to punish him for his chosen life he did not know. However, his greatest challenge laid ahead. He will eventually be hunted himself and those that he hunted in the past will soon become his allies... or worse. Abilities: * Telekinesis * Pyrokinesis * Psychometry Weapon(s): * Ka-Bar Military Knife * SRSA1 Stealth Recon Scout Sniper Rifle * Springfield XD-S 4" .45ACP</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: Hoffand Park --- Anastasia kept quiet as the woman beside her spoke to "Mr. Lucidius", still waiting if they were going to be killed. It didn't seem to be happening soon, Victoria probably distracting him with her words and making him hesitate. Wasn't he supposed to be a hunter, a mercenary of sorts, and kill them off quickly to move on to the next mission? She felt uncomfortable whenever she felt the pair's eyes look towards her, knowing that they were looking towards her direction, even when she was frozen in the same position. The most movement that came from her was the shaky attempt of breathing rise and fall from her chest. Her eyes didn't want to blink. It was to make sure that she witnessed everything with her own two eyes before dying - if she did. The blonde twitched her fingers when she felt the muzzle of the gun suddenly switch to her left temple. Almost simultaneously, a clicking sound that must have been a blade popped out before her. He was going to kill both of them off if Victoria didn't act quickly. Fortunately she kept speaking, even though it could have been both of their death sentences. But the woman seemed to have gotten "Mr. Lucidius"'s attention. To be honest, that was a little embarrassing. A mercenary not meeting their mission of killing their victim. It was just as bad as a predator having pity on their prey. Anastasia couldn't help let out a snort from holding back her laugh to keep serious. Us? She knew. Well, of course she knew. It wasn't a surprise if Victoria already knew the man with them. But it didn't make her relax, especially with the feeling of eyes moving back onto her happening again. Where the Pale Man dresses? Where's that? "Mr. Lucidius" must have knew where that was if Victoria was telling him the direction. Before Anastasia could try saying something to reject being useful, she saw Victoria's appearance shatter to pieces to be carried away in the wind. Illusion magic? Possibly. But that definitely wasn't something she should be questioning right now. It was positive they were going to be hunted now. Her thoughts were interrupted by the man grabbing her arm, making her bolt her head up towards him. Are you saying there's an option of staying, even though I'm not going to choose it? she thought while giving her another pair of squinting eyes. Anastasia sighed as he was already running off towards the park barrier. Might as well follow him if he knew the destination they had to go to. She got up and hopped the bench, following after the mercenary. Or, former mercenary. Ana caught up easily but kept herself blended in the darkness. Wait, wouldn't that be difficult for her? Blonde hair, pale to olive skin, bright blue jacket... No, she had other ways to blend in. Her footsteps could be heard near "Mr. Lucidius", but her appearance seemed to have just... disappeared. Anastasia didn't say anything about it. The first thing she wanted to ask quietly came out of her mouth. "What's your first name?" It was a dumb question but it was the automatic thing that came to mind. However, to him, it was more of the air speaking to him than the blonde.</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Streets --- Kyle had memorized several blocks surrounding the park. Where the alleys turn and end and which are divided only by a fence. He ran quickly through them as his goal was to put as much distance between himself and the park as possible. The organization was ruthlessly efficient. They cared little for bystanders and innocents that happened to cross their path. All that mattered to them was the extinction of The Touched and now Kyle was one of them. How they knew he hadn't the slightest idea. All that mattered now was that they did know and Kyle's choices were growing slimmer by the second. He thought he had more time, truth be told. He knew he was manifesting powers, but why at the age of 33 were they happening now? Of course, he knew powers could manifest at any time from infancy to adulthood. Throughout his service he has seen many different types of powers manifest from the benign to the monstrous. He himself wielded a power that aided him in the hunting of the Touched. An irony he was well aware of, perhaps that is why the organization caught on to him. Regardless of all of that, this was the predicament he was in. How the hell are you going to get out of this one? He thought to himself as he slowed his run, approaching a main street. He placed his back against one of the buildings and edged slowly closer to the corner of the building. They were about three blocks away from the park now but that did not mean they were safe. Peering around the corner he saw that it was, for the most part, deserted. Everyone had was gone. Hiding or asleep in their beds. People knew what it meant when the organization was whipping through the streets. It wasn't a secret. The woman said to go where the 'Pale Man Dresses'. To most that would seem incomprehensible, but he knew from a few years ago there was a rumor about a Touched called The Pale Man. He became a bit of a folk hero to those with powers. He was said to embody the most powerful of abilities and was incredibly pale. Unbelievably charismatic, he was a natural leader. Almost like a vampire, some said. There was a secret head shop that dealt with the more taboo and occult things in the city. In the front it was a clothing store like any other but those that had the access were allowed into the basement. He could only hope that this was the place that the woman meant. --- Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store He heard Anastasia talk, but he didn't pay much attention to her. In fact, her speaking at all soured his demeanor. He would deal with it in time, he thought, as he sprinted across the street whilst keeping his profile low. Suddenly a shot rang out. It was faint, but he knew the direction it came from. He only saw one other person in the park and that was the homeless man that was near where the two women sat. No doubt the operatives didn't find his ramblings useful and shot the poor bastard. It wasn't long before they arrived at the side entrance to the store. Kyle tried turning the doorknob but found it locked. Cursing under his breath he looked to his right and left, satisfied there was no one else there. He focused on the handle his hand quivering as whatever essence spilled forth from his being. The latch sprang and the spring within snapped under the pressure. The door flew open only to be caught still as Kyle rose his hand to defy physics. "Inside." he said. He wasn't sure if the woman was following him but as he stepped inside, he waited a second before closing the door. The story was empty and all the lights were off but he made it a point to move as slowly as possible. He didn't want any wanderers spotting him from the outside as he perused the selection of wares. He picked out a nice woolen gray trench coat and a skullcap. Taking off his hoodie, he put on the other cloths, placing his pistol into the right pocket of the coat. "My name is Kyle, he finally said, What is yours?" He began his search for the basement.</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: City Streets --- The lone blonde didn't go out often, barely knowing anywhere else other than the motel area leading on to the park. She wanted to look at all of the details when passing the new places, but she couldn't. Anastasia had to keep up with Kyle as they quickly ran away from the park. The man must be trying to get as much distance as possible in a little amount of time. She already knew there were organizations grouped up to go after the Touched. But how would they already know was the question she had in mind. Cameras? Sensors? Detectors? Ana didn't know, but anything was possible at this point. They just had to choose the right path to take. Occasionally Anastasia would try getting a better look at the man. He seemed a bit older than her, definitely, but only just got his abilities now. She got hers a bit while ago and managed to control the basics. After all, she running behind "Mr. Lucidius" completely invisible. For all she knew, he didn't even remember Anastasia was supposed to be there with him. It didn't matter now. She slowed herself down beside the mercenary, casually standing beside him when he pressed up against the wall. Anastasia was lucky, having to turn invisible and all, then she remembered: If they already knew "Mr. Lucidius" was developing his powers, then they might be able to sense her as well. This made her bolt next to him against the wall, keeping close to him as he looked around the corner. Her cold presence could easily be felt but not seen. What did Victoria say again? "Go to where the Pale Man dresses and we shall discuss more." That was it. "Mr. Lucidius" must be thinking of where to go at that very moment. Just as she thought about his next move, he ran across the street to some sort of clothing store. --- Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store Just as they were crossing the street, Anastasia heard a shot from the distance. She winced as her fingers twitched. They froze over almost immediately. If she wasn't invisible a thin layer of frost could be seen along her fingers. One of the easiest ways to tell she was anxious. Who did they shoot? The only other person there was- Right, of course. He had it coming anyway. Poor guy. The thought of the blood running across the park grounds only made her run across faster. She quickly caught her breath after all that running, and when Anastasia turned back to the locked door- it was already open? The man with her must have opened it while she was distracted. She quickly got inside as told then reappeared in front of him again. She had her hands up against the top of her stomach in a prayer pose, her fingers quivering with the frost on top. It was melting slowly but surely as she looked around. Kyle. Kyle Lucidius, she put together. "Anastasia," the blonde would respond in a whisper while looking around the shop. When going near the front window, she suddenly appeared out of sight again. A pair of Harbinger gloves disappeared from a rack. And you'd think she'd wear gloves to cover her fingers. A brown leather jacket disappeared off. Black shades, gone. As Kyle searched around, Anastasia appeared next to him again. She was switched around with the clothes she chose. She looked completely different, which was perfect. Her previous jacket was across one of her arms as her hands fiddled around with the gloves. Close, open, close open. Whenever her hands opened, her fingers would freeze over. Whenever they closed, the frost quickly went away. She seemed unaffected by the cold. Ana did that with her hands while she watched Kyle look for- whatever he was looking for.</s>	<\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Pale Dress --- Kyle was methodical. His eyes scanned every nook and cranny of the store. He was looking for the entrance to the basement, of course. There was another door in the rear that may lead to it, but he had to take care of something first. His eyes shifted toward Anastasia, watching as items faded from what seemed like existence. His eyes narrowed and his pace slowed. He ran his hand along the length of a wall, buying himself some time. There were so many questions he needed answers to. He wanted to know how they managed to find out about his manifestation. How they knew of anyone's manifestation. Did they solely work with spies and the disenfranchised eyes of the cities, luring them with promises of riches and rewards? Perhaps it was something far more sinister. When Anastasia appeared next to him, Kyle moved incredibly quickly. His left hand wrapped around her throat, clutching tightly as he propelled her body against the naked wall. His right clutched at his pistol, moving swiftly to her forehead. The weapon worked on a series of safety mechanisms, having to actually grip the pistol to release the first. The second was built into the trigger itself. His finger slowly squeezed the safety catch back and was only a centimeter from releasing the firing pin. He wasn't sure what this woman was capable of, but he doubted she was quicker than an object traveling at 900 feet per second. "Where the fuck did you come from?!" he spat venomously, keeping his voice in a low growl. "Why were you in the park? His grip tightened over her throat, his thumb and fingers pressing into the jugular veins on either side of her neck as the webbing of his hand crushing into her windpipe. He relaxed after a second or two, meant to prove that he was not to be trifled with nor was this an idle threat. Kyle's life hung in the balance and he would do anything to preserve it. At least, until he got the answers he sought and wrought his vengeance against those who did him wrong.</s>
<\|description\|>Kyle Lucidius Age: 33 Gender: Male Appearance: Kyle stands at five feet eleven inches and weighs approximately 170 pounds. He has a beard which he keeps trimmed neatly and short, brown hair. He has no visible scars on his face, but his torso is marred with them. From bullet holes to slashes to burns, a chronicle of his past horrors detailed on his body. Personality: Kyle is, for all intents and purposes, a loner. He is quiet most of the time but when he speaks, his tone is even and does not betray emotion. He is of incredible constitution, both mentally and physically, and one of the reasons why he was chosen for his particular occupation. He harbors no ill will towards those that are Touched but this does not mean that they do not haunt him. When alone, he relives every murder. Background: Born into a world that fears what it doesn't understand, Kyle was raised with fear and suspicion. His parents instilled this distrust in him at an early age as it was law to report any suspicious persons who may have been Touched. For this reason Kyle did not make many friends while he was growing up, preferring instead the company of long-dead poets and authors. In an attempt to escape his condemned life, he joined the military and in his naivety, hoped to understand the world. This eventually led to his recruitment into their special forces where he learned many things from marksmanship to stealth but most importantly, he learned how to disconnect from killing. After he completed his tour of duty, he had no prospects in the civilian sector. His skills were not something many employers wanted. One decision when he was younger marked him for the rest of his life as nothing more than a trigger man so that is what he became. Enlisting into the services of a private organization, charged with the contract of finding, detaining, or eliminating the Touched, this has been his life for the past year. It wasn't with some irony that he himself would begin to manifest his own powers. Whether they were latent within him from birth or the fates deciding to punish him for his chosen life he did not know. However, his greatest challenge laid ahead. He will eventually be hunted himself and those that he hunted in the past will soon become his allies... or worse. Abilities: * Telekinesis * Pyrokinesis * Psychometry Weapon(s): * Ka-Bar Military Knife * SRSA1 Stealth Recon Scout Sniper Rifle * Springfield XD-S 4" .45ACP</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store --- Not even a second after she reappeared, Anatasia was slammed against the wall, a hand wrapped around her throat. She seemed to let out a "Hissss" like a balloon letting out air or a snake in danger. Her immediate action was to claw at the hand that held her against the wall. Anastasia's hands froze over quickly, the hundreds of jagged edges trying to rip through his clothes to his skin. Not even to the meeting with Victoria yet and she was being betrayed? The gun was up against her forehead as she was weakly clawed around against the wall. Seriously? Did he expect her to answer while being in a choke-hold against the wall? Good luck with that. Kyle's webbing was pressing against her windpipe, too. She wasn't going to talk on low oxygen. Even if she could, Anastasia still wouldn't talk. She was an "innocent" Touched in the park. The blonde didn't have any important details. He relaxed to attempt showing he wasn't a threat, but it didn't help at all. Just as Anastasia felt his arm relaxing, both of her hands grabbed onto the one around her neck- and fully froze it over. So she wouldn't be shot from that, she immediately ripped open Kyle's fingers from her neck, the ice cracking as she quickly shuffled down to the floor. Just in case she was going to get kicked or shot from above, Anastasia rolled to the side and hopped back to a standing position. When Anastasia recovered onto her feet, she quickly made the thick frost shatter with a whip of her own frozen hands. "Never do that again," were the first words that escaped her mouth before answering. "Now, if you really want information out of me, keep in mind that I don't do it when held around the neck, even with a weapon against me. I know you're trying to get out of this alive, but threatening the people who are working with you and for the same reason doesn't help." She started with the first question he asked. "If you want the quick answer, I came from the motel down the street from the park." Anastasia would rub around the scratches on her neck and face with thin frost over her fingers in attempt to numb the pain. "And why I was there? The same reason the woman had: find peace, which apparently isn't possible," she spat. Anastasia quickly went invisible before he could try anything else, but didn't move from the place she stood at until the scratches were numb from the cold. After numbing the patches of pain she would silently roam the store again. Kyle was trying to find something against the walls, right? Must be a door or something. Easy. Her hand lightly ran against items in the store so they wouldn't disappear off, checking them for any off feature. Her eyes ran along the floor as well to see if there were any signs.</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Pale Dress --- That was two powers he witnessed from her. The ability to cloak herself to her surroundings and slow the vibrations of matter, freezing things over. Very interesting. Kyle rarely did things out of character or in the heat of the moment. Yes, he was attempting to gain intelligence from the woman, which she freely gave after the fact, but he also discovered her innate talents. It was a risky endeavor, as she could have proved to have a much more dangerous ability. He remembered a teenage boy he dealt with some years ago. Brian, he believed his name was. A quadriplegic rendered useless in a state-of-the-art wheelchair but soon his powers began to the manifest. They ranged from inhibiting psychosomatic hallucinations in his victims to completely taking over their nervous systems. A string of random suicides lead Kyle to Chicago where he resided. They all had one common denominator among them and it was this boy. From nurses to doctors to insurance professionals. Those that screwed him or his family over soon met a tragic end. When the ice coated his left hand, he recoiled back, clutching it to his chest as he took a step backwards. He looked at Anastasia and holstered his pistol into his waist band, turning his back toward her. His hand began to heat up, his internal body temperature rising as he pushed the heat to the affected area. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his fingers, the ice melting almost as quickly as it had appeared. After the woman ended her rant, his voice softly carried through the empty store, "Keep in mind who the predator in the room is. Make yourself useful and look for any signs of the Resistance." The Resistance was a group of Touched that found each other a few years ago. It was in response to the establishment of the H.B.C.T.U., or, the Human Biological Counter-Terrorism Unit. This was the organization tasked with the research, tracking, and extermination of the Touched. At first it started out with good intentions. Those that would use their powers for evil were hunted with extreme prejudice but then a bill was passed in the federal government. Due to the increasing presence of the Touched, fear and panic was rampant. Akin to how Nazi propaganda during World War II, there were those in government that sculpted problems and pushed these fears across the public. The Afflicted Persons bill passed and the War on Terror took a turn for the worst. Prisons could not be built in time to house these individuals and a green light was given to the systematic murder of thousands. Kyle was part of the HBCTU. Or, rather, was... His ran across a wall, his finger tapping occasionally to see if there was a false wall. In one instance it felt hollow, but such a thing wasn't possible. This wall was against the brick structure of the building. Of course, he has seen weird things in the past several years. "Here..." He began looking around the wall for anything. What he found was something interesting. Near the floor behind a shelving unit, he noticed small runic patterns burnt into the wood itself. As his finger passed over them, they shimmered in an amber color. Suddenly, the wall faded from existence and revealed a circular staircase leading into darkness. He leaned over the side and peered into the abyss, his hand reaching for his weapon. Holding it to his side, he looked around for the woman.</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store --- The predator? And who was that exactly? It must have been what he mentioned, the Resistance. Anastasia barely remembered what they were. If she remembered correctly, they were a group of other Touched people that "took care" of their own kind. But wouldn't that mean Kyle is- was part of it? He was tasked to kill the woman after all. Now he's getting chased down, too. This time, instead of asking him questions, Anastasia kept silent while checking around the store for clues. When she heard the faint mutter of the word "Here", a quick turn of her heel got her to face his direction. Kyle was at a wall - but also the same one against the brick structure of the building. What was so special about that? What was the difference in all of the other parts of the wall? Anatasia frowned slightly before walking around the tables and racks to be near Kyle. She kept her distance just in case he did something wrong, but close enough to follow his exact movements around the wall. Kyle seemed to have found something behind a shelving unit near the floor. Ana got curious to see it, using one leg to lean forward on and look over his shoulder. Rune patterns burnt in. Now that was something she could easily recognize. Anastasia saw them in shows, online, even occasionally passed or caught them on her free time. She managed to learn a few symbols, traps, and sigils herself as well. The woman would do them using ice instead of frost, the markings too clear for someone to see, having to use touch to actually find them. Maybe she could use them for this. Just as the man touched the rune patterns, the wall that he checked earlier disappeared from sight, like it faded from existence. A staircase was circling down into the darkness. He was trying to find the- basement? Seriously? Out of all things? Actually, Anastasia shouldn't be asking that. What about him triggering a fire runes? No, wait. The question just answered itself. But it's always good to make sure, isn't it? She looked back to Kyle, who was already next to the staircase with his gun to his side. He must have been trying to look for sign of- Victoria? That was right. Anatasia's face shifted to a neutral expression before reappearing back next to him. She still felt uneasy appearing so close to him, but she had to anyway. "So Mister Fire, are you just going to stand around or go in? We were looking for this to enter or do it out of spite? she asked in a low voice, rolling her eyes afterwards.</s>	<\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius The staircase spiraled down what seemed to be a crudely cut circular tunnel, descending into who knows what. Kyle didn't even want to touch on the physics-breaking wall, but, then again, after the Touched were made known, little disturbances began to make a bit more sense. Things and events that made people narrow their eyes and tilt their head. That unknown factor you just couldn't put your finger on. There was silence in the store and Kyle leaned a bit closer over the staircase shifting his head to the side, listening for anything he may discern that dwelled below. That was, until the woman began to speak again. Kyle clenched his jaw, her condescending tone slowly beginning to wear down his patience. One of the many reasons he chose to work alone is due to the fact that he found most people to be inept and every encounter he has had with them has proven him correct. His gaze slowly shifted over to Anastasia, the thought of grabbing her by the hair and tossing her down the shaft played through his mind. He could even gauge how deep it went by the sound of her broken body hitting the steps. Dismissing the thought, he looked back down the staircase and carefully placed his right foot on the first step. They had managed to escape the government for now but somehow he felt that he was walking into the mouth of another lion. He had spent years hunting down the Touched, and he was being invited in by one of their envoys? No matter how you sliced it, this couldn't end well for him. But what would he do? He could spend the rest of his life running from the government with their almost limitless funds and technology. The next decisions Kyle would have to make would determine the course his life would take, for better or worse. Satisfied that there weren't any traps or vortexes that he would unwittingly get sucked into, he began to descend the stairs into the pit. --- After what seemed like countless rotations around the spiral staircase the tunnel opened into something that he could have never imagined. Something like this could surely not exist under the city, what with sewer tunnels and underground metro that ran the span of it. However, somehow here this place. The cavern opened to this massive expansion with rough columns chiseled into the rock and all manner of beasts sat atop them. Kyle stopped in his tracks when he saw them, his eyes unblinking. He looked for any movement from the seemingly innocuous carvings but, hell, at this point he wasn't willing to discount anything. He's seen his fair share of movies. Kyle walked out into the room, two entryways ahead of him split off into what seemed like other rooms and there was a long corridor behind to the left of the staircase, which hugged the wall as they descended. Every footfall echoed across the chamber with a dull sound. Suddenly Kyle felt the fatigue of the day creeping up on him. He had his adrenaline to thank the past few hours but his body began to fight back. Finding his resolve, he marshalled in further across the main chamber.</s>
<\|description\|>Anastasia Hashiga "We'll see about that." Nickname(s): Ana Age: 20 Gender: Female Appearance: Anatasia's is around average height of five feet six inches, having a fit body and a slightly plump face. Her dirty blonde hair goes down below her shoulders. It's messy most of the time as she repeatedly runs her hair through it often. Her hazel eyes shine bright a majority of the time but fades when the situation is bad. Ana's evenly pale skin has faint red scars here and there, most visible along her arms and face. Personality: Ana is dependent on anything and anyone at all costs. It doesn't matter what's happening, she has something or someone assisting her in the task. Even when she's alone she has access to somebody else to communicate with somehow. This is mainly due to insecurities and the extreme fear of being alone. However, when talking to people she's either aggressive and sassy or outgoing and open-minded. There's rarely an in between. Fortunately Anastasia is usually quiet and uses hand signals instead of talking. Background: When Anastasia came to the world, she grew up in a worrisome but positive family. Due to the conflict happening throughout the world, her parents wanted to keep their little girl as innocent as possible before she understood what was happening. Years pass and Anastasia didn't know much about people being hunted until her parents were killed for being possible suspects of being the Touched. She has had trauma ever since, depending on them quite often. Anastasia didn't want to get anywhere near the current situation of the abilities and war. It was until now when she found out that she was developing her own abilities, separating her even more from society. She was afraid of how many people that were murdering the Touched. She was going to have the same fate that her parents had, whether they had powers or not. Anastasia searched for others in secret to see if she could form allies to help in her problem. Abilities:* Animal Manipulation * Snow Manipulation * Invisibility Weapon(s): N/A Other: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: Motel Time: 2:25 A.M. --- Is there a God? I wonder if anyone still believes in that cruel, vile son of a bitch. He stared at the end table, eyeing the empty glass. The motel was dark aside from the meager light that shined from a desk lamp that had all but one bulb burnt out. He sat at the edge of that uncomfortable bed, elbows resting on his thighs. The dingy interior of this motel was nothing short of decrepit but on the upside he still hasn't found any roaches. He didn't blink for quite some time, idly rubbing his hands together. He wondered many things throughout his life, but one question kept resurfacing as of late. The irony of it all. He reached between his legs and unscrewed the cap off the bottle. Jameson was his go-to drink. It burned enough to still let him know this wasn't all a dream. Funny as it was, it grounded him. It forced him to accept his fate even tho try as he might to escape it. Pouring himself two-fingers worth in the glass, he returned the bottle back onto the floor. He knew he still had a job to do, the files placed neatly in the brown folder next to him. He sighed, clutching the glass like it was his lifeline. Staring deep into the abyss of the bottom of that glass, he pondered a thought. I wonder who they will send after me. Reyes? Oscar? That sadistic fuck Benson? The prospect of it almost didn't seem real, but that burn definitely was. Taking the glass to his lips, he threw it back into his throat. The next step was the set-up. The preparation was complete. He knew the target. Memorized the face. Oh, the faces. They never went away. They never will, will they? For he is the messenger of God, sent to strike fear into the hearts of those who oppose him. With great fury will the sword strike against the wicked and condemned. The biblical God no longer existed. It didn't need to. The dredges of humanity have definitely taken up the mantle, hiding behind their suits and ties and mahogany desks. For now, though, he was the force behind the sword. He gathered his things for the night ahead. He wore regular street clothes. A t-shirt he found at Spencers of some band he never heard of laid over by a gray zip-up hoodie. His jeans were that retro faded crap he saw people wearing at times. The only thing functional were his boots, which he hid with the hem of his pants. He holstered his pistol at his side and placed a switchblade knife into his pocket. Funny story about that switchblade. Took it off some punk who wanted his wallet a few nights prior. Suppose he should've thanked him as opposed to break his jaw. His traditional Ka-Bar knife was far too conspicuous in this outfit. He placed the files into a briefcase that sat at the edge of his bed and zipped up his go-bag. One last look around the motel, he headed out the door. --- Location: City Streets Time: 2:48 A.M. --- The city was quiet tonight. He couldn't hear the yelling bouncing off the old, brick buildings of kids who would surely skip class the next day. Not even the cabs hauling their drunk patrons or spouses from their night of infidelity were out in abundance. There was something in the air tonight, Kyle could feel it. He had grown to have a sense about these things. A preternatural "sixth sense", as it were. He kept his hands in his pocket, tho he had cut a hole open in the right one to allow him to grab his pistol at a moments notice. His hood was pulled up, like any hoodlum roaming the dark streets of this city. His right hand slipped subtly towards the Springfield pistol, gauging the distance and reaction time it would take if shit went sideways. He knew exactly where it was, doing it more for the mental comfort. His target destination was a park not too far from the motel. It took him exactly twelve minutes to reach it, having walked the path several times before. He wasn't sure why his mark enjoyed the park so late at night especially in the deep city. He figured she could protect herself, being Touched after all, so the danger was negligible to her. She sat at the park bench for what seemed like hours sometimes staring off into space. He knew why, of course. Her dossier told him everything. Her mother was murdered in that park by a group of men looking to get some easy money. A simple robbery took a turn for the worse, though. She was raped and beaten, left to die in some bushes. A tragic tale. He supposed she hoped the same men would come wandering back around and she would present herself as the victim. When he arrived in the park she wasn't there yet. She arrived around three in the morning. He picked a spot that overlooked the bench and jogging trail and waited.</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: Hoffand Park Time: 2:50 A.M. --- A lone blonde woman was walking along the path that went throughout the park early in the morning. It was still dark and peacefully quiet, giving her time to think as she traveled along the trail. No children insanely running around and being the young lunatics that they were. No screaming taxi drivers, groups of friends, arguing couples. It was completely silent other than the occasional rustle of bushes and leaves skidding across the ground. Anastasia enjoyed this time where the city was quiet. The time where everybody rested and the night owls roamed to have their peace. The air was a nice cool temperature, the woman only having a thin navy jacket, black jeans, and fluffy boots to keep her warm. She enjoyed the weather at this time, wishing that time didn't pass and it could stay that way forever. Her mind would fade blank as she took her slow but long strides along the park path. Walking this way many times before, Anastasia didn't have to look up from her boots as she walked. Her feet guided her way through the area as she began to question herself. Thinking about the world they were in, and why it couldn't be as peaceful as it was now. I wonder if anyone will find out. No, none of the people should know by now. It was only just beginning and she never used 'it' around anybody. Maybe there's cameras that detect 'them'. What if there's technology that can find those people? There can't be. If there were devices that could hunt down 'them', people wouldn't be paid to find them. What if somebody is here right now for me? This thought made Anastasia quickly stop on her tracks, looking around to her surroundings. An empty bench was nearby with a few lights to keep the pathway bright. It was a comfortable place to take a rest on and tempted her to go over. It was almost three. People might be waking up and begin wandering soon. She could either get back to her motel room nearby or take the last few moments resting in that peaceful area. It gave her a lonely feeling. Sitting there alone on that bench with nobody beside her. But the cityfolk were also crazies, causing fights between their own kind even if they're on the same side of society. She didn't want to sit with some stranger that could be a murderer. Although the thoughts may have been bugging her, she decided to sit down on the bench anyway. Her thighs pressed together slightly in the cold shadows as her hands moved towards her hood, pulling it over her face and darkening the view.</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: Hoffand Park Time: 3:00 A.M. --- It was chilly that night, but not quite so for the wind was barely blowing. You could hear the occasional rustle of leaves as they were pushed across the paths but not much else. The quiet was serene. Welcoming, even. Not many people took the time for contemplative reflection. Their lives were taken over by schedules and meetings and brunches. Did they want a venti frappuccino or a grande mocha latte? The trivialities were as such that if you were to take away this illusion of freedom they would kick and scream, throwing a fit like an undisciplined child. Kyle barely stirred as a woman entered his eyesight. She pulled the jacket tightly around her as she sat on the bench, knees coming together either out of modesty or comfort. His head tilted slightly, his finger gently running across the grip of the weapon hidden behind his jacket like a lover. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, natural night vision taking in all the ambient light around him. The woman had pulled the hood up over her head, so he couldn't make out any details of her face but he saw that she was a blonde before she sat down. There was a lamp post not too far away from the bench pushing shadows across the ground as if hands clawing at any who pass by. The branches swayed in the wind and whistled with trepidation. Kyle barely moved when he noticed another coming down the path. The strawberry blonde-haired woman walked the opposite direction from where the first woman came, wearing a long overcoat pulled at her midsection, accentuating her assets. She slowed when she saw Ana, curious to see another in this wretched park at the witching hour. She continued, tho, the clicking of her heels against the pavement stones being the only sound that pierced the night air. She was a beautiful woman. Five feet five inches tall with inviting green eyes. Olive skin wrapped around a lithe frame. Her hair was slightly curly and bounced with every step she took. The woman moved gracefully toward Ana taking the seat next to her. "Good morning." She spoke softly in a tone that dripped of honey. "Don't see many other people here at this hour... except them." She said, gesturing toward what appeared to be a homeless person clutching a worn coat over their frame. If one would listen closely, you could hear the shivers between his incoherent ramblings to himself. A city was built on tragedy. It forgot those that needed to be seen the most and cast aside those that needed to be embraced. Life was, with no reservation, cruel and unjust. After a brief pause, the woman looked toward Ana whispering, "My name is Victoria." Kyle looked on as the two women sat together. He knew the second woman was his target. He had watched her for weeks taking in every detail about her. Her gait and graceful walk. The way she smiled and greeted strangers with a nod of her head. Kyle liked to make a game of it in his mind. Like star-crossed lovers reaching out to each other. In some distant past perhaps they could have been together, raising a family and loving each other. The reality of it was, this is how Kyle coped. It was as if he was writing a novel and nothing he did was real. The texture of the grip running across the pad of his finger spoke others. Silently, he moved from his position, cutting around wide as to not attract attention. He stuck to the shadows and watched the placement of his feet as he flanked the bench. This new woman, however... It complicated things.</s>	<\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Location: Hoffand Park Time: 3:05 A.M. --- Anatasia started to feel watched as her eyes scanned the park in her view. She couldn't tell why. It was just a sense of uneasiness was starting to crawl up her spine, like somebody was also there. She just waited to be jumped as her legs tightened against each other. Her eyes quickly shifted to the movement from the opposite direction from where she came from. It was just a woman walking down the pathway. Ana's legs would relax as she saw them. They were beautiful. At least, more beautiful than her- which was just about everybody she saw. She admired the woman's strawberry-colored hair bouncing along her shoulders as she walked towards the bench. The blonde had to remember how to speak as the woman spoke to her. She agreed to herself as the woman mentioned not seeing a lot of people around this time. Only the homeless stayed around the area, but that was 24/7. Anastasia didn't count them. When she walked around the park she saw nobody else. People were either at a different section of the park, or they weren't staying long. She didn't want to think of what other people might be doing in the park, turning her attention back to the woman next to her. She was gesturing towards one of the homeless nearby. They shivered in their worn coat while mumbling to themselves, making Anastasia frown slightly. She looked back to the woman when she told her name in at a soft volume, just what she'd call a perfect whisper. Something was off about it. In her voice she seemed to have the same uneasiness as Anastasia had before. Like they were being watched, and the woman had to stay in secret. Victoria. It echoed in her head a few times. It rhymed with Anastasia. The tiny detail made the edge of her mouth twitch with a grin, but it didn't stay for long. "Hello, I'm Anatasia. I don't see a lot of people either. I'm just enjoying the park right now," she told the woman, going along with the softness of her voice. It was not that easy for her to be quiet, easy to tell by the occasional rumbles in her voice as she spoke, but she managed. Even in a whisper her voice seemed stern, not as welcoming as Victoria's. Anastasia already knew that her expression was naturally blank. Like she was zoning out. Judging people. Scheming some sort of plan. It only bothered her now when another person talked to her.</s>
<\|description\|>Anastasia Hashiga "We'll see about that." Nickname(s): Ana Age: 20 Gender: Female Appearance: Anatasia's is around average height of five feet six inches, having a fit body and a slightly plump face. Her dirty blonde hair goes down below her shoulders. It's messy most of the time as she repeatedly runs her hair through it often. Her hazel eyes shine bright a majority of the time but fades when the situation is bad. Ana's evenly pale skin has faint red scars here and there, most visible along her arms and face. Personality: Ana is dependent on anything and anyone at all costs. It doesn't matter what's happening, she has something or someone assisting her in the task. Even when she's alone she has access to somebody else to communicate with somehow. This is mainly due to insecurities and the extreme fear of being alone. However, when talking to people she's either aggressive and sassy or outgoing and open-minded. There's rarely an in between. Fortunately Anastasia is usually quiet and uses hand signals instead of talking. Background: When Anastasia came to the world, she grew up in a worrisome but positive family. Due to the conflict happening throughout the world, her parents wanted to keep their little girl as innocent as possible before she understood what was happening. Years pass and Anastasia didn't know much about people being hunted until her parents were killed for being possible suspects of being the Touched. She has had trauma ever since, depending on them quite often. Anastasia didn't want to get anywhere near the current situation of the abilities and war. It was until now when she found out that she was developing her own abilities, separating her even more from society. She was afraid of how many people that were murdering the Touched. She was going to have the same fate that her parents had, whether they had powers or not. Anastasia searched for others in secret to see if she could form allies to help in her problem. Abilities:* Animal Manipulation * Snow Manipulation * Invisibility Weapon(s): N/A Other: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Streets --- Kyle had memorized several blocks surrounding the park. Where the alleys turn and end and which are divided only by a fence. He ran quickly through them as his goal was to put as much distance between himself and the park as possible. The organization was ruthlessly efficient. They cared little for bystanders and innocents that happened to cross their path. All that mattered to them was the extinction of The Touched and now Kyle was one of them. How they knew he hadn't the slightest idea. All that mattered now was that they did know and Kyle's choices were growing slimmer by the second. He thought he had more time, truth be told. He knew he was manifesting powers, but why at the age of 33 were they happening now? Of course, he knew powers could manifest at any time from infancy to adulthood. Throughout his service he has seen many different types of powers manifest from the benign to the monstrous. He himself wielded a power that aided him in the hunting of the Touched. An irony he was well aware of, perhaps that is why the organization caught on to him. Regardless of all of that, this was the predicament he was in. How the hell are you going to get out of this one? He thought to himself as he slowed his run, approaching a main street. He placed his back against one of the buildings and edged slowly closer to the corner of the building. They were about three blocks away from the park now but that did not mean they were safe. Peering around the corner he saw that it was, for the most part, deserted. Everyone had was gone. Hiding or asleep in their beds. People knew what it meant when the organization was whipping through the streets. It wasn't a secret. The woman said to go where the 'Pale Man Dresses'. To most that would seem incomprehensible, but he knew from a few years ago there was a rumor about a Touched called The Pale Man. He became a bit of a folk hero to those with powers. He was said to embody the most powerful of abilities and was incredibly pale. Unbelievably charismatic, he was a natural leader. Almost like a vampire, some said. There was a secret head shop that dealt with the more taboo and occult things in the city. In the front it was a clothing store like any other but those that had the access were allowed into the basement. He could only hope that this was the place that the woman meant. --- Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store He heard Anastasia talk, but he didn't pay much attention to her. In fact, her speaking at all soured his demeanor. He would deal with it in time, he thought, as he sprinted across the street whilst keeping his profile low. Suddenly a shot rang out. It was faint, but he knew the direction it came from. He only saw one other person in the park and that was the homeless man that was near where the two women sat. No doubt the operatives didn't find his ramblings useful and shot the poor bastard. It wasn't long before they arrived at the side entrance to the store. Kyle tried turning the doorknob but found it locked. Cursing under his breath he looked to his right and left, satisfied there was no one else there. He focused on the handle his hand quivering as whatever essence spilled forth from his being. The latch sprang and the spring within snapped under the pressure. The door flew open only to be caught still as Kyle rose his hand to defy physics. "Inside." he said. He wasn't sure if the woman was following him but as he stepped inside, he waited a second before closing the door. The story was empty and all the lights were off but he made it a point to move as slowly as possible. He didn't want any wanderers spotting him from the outside as he perused the selection of wares. He picked out a nice woolen gray trench coat and a skullcap. Taking off his hoodie, he put on the other cloths, placing his pistol into the right pocket of the coat. "My name is Kyle, he finally said, What is yours?" He began his search for the basement.</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: City Streets --- The lone blonde didn't go out often, barely knowing anywhere else other than the motel area leading on to the park. She wanted to look at all of the details when passing the new places, but she couldn't. Anastasia had to keep up with Kyle as they quickly ran away from the park. The man must be trying to get as much distance as possible in a little amount of time. She already knew there were organizations grouped up to go after the Touched. But how would they already know was the question she had in mind. Cameras? Sensors? Detectors? Ana didn't know, but anything was possible at this point. They just had to choose the right path to take. Occasionally Anastasia would try getting a better look at the man. He seemed a bit older than her, definitely, but only just got his abilities now. She got hers a bit while ago and managed to control the basics. After all, she running behind "Mr. Lucidius" completely invisible. For all she knew, he didn't even remember Anastasia was supposed to be there with him. It didn't matter now. She slowed herself down beside the mercenary, casually standing beside him when he pressed up against the wall. Anastasia was lucky, having to turn invisible and all, then she remembered: If they already knew "Mr. Lucidius" was developing his powers, then they might be able to sense her as well. This made her bolt next to him against the wall, keeping close to him as he looked around the corner. Her cold presence could easily be felt but not seen. What did Victoria say again? "Go to where the Pale Man dresses and we shall discuss more." That was it. "Mr. Lucidius" must be thinking of where to go at that very moment. Just as she thought about his next move, he ran across the street to some sort of clothing store. --- Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store Just as they were crossing the street, Anastasia heard a shot from the distance. She winced as her fingers twitched. They froze over almost immediately. If she wasn't invisible a thin layer of frost could be seen along her fingers. One of the easiest ways to tell she was anxious. Who did they shoot? The only other person there was- Right, of course. He had it coming anyway. Poor guy. The thought of the blood running across the park grounds only made her run across faster. She quickly caught her breath after all that running, and when Anastasia turned back to the locked door- it was already open? The man with her must have opened it while she was distracted. She quickly got inside as told then reappeared in front of him again. She had her hands up against the top of her stomach in a prayer pose, her fingers quivering with the frost on top. It was melting slowly but surely as she looked around. Kyle. Kyle Lucidius, she put together. "Anastasia," the blonde would respond in a whisper while looking around the shop. When going near the front window, she suddenly appeared out of sight again. A pair of Harbinger gloves disappeared from a rack. And you'd think she'd wear gloves to cover her fingers. A brown leather jacket disappeared off. Black shades, gone. As Kyle searched around, Anastasia appeared next to him again. She was switched around with the clothes she chose. She looked completely different, which was perfect. Her previous jacket was across one of her arms as her hands fiddled around with the gloves. Close, open, close open. Whenever her hands opened, her fingers would freeze over. Whenever they closed, the frost quickly went away. She seemed unaffected by the cold. Ana did that with her hands while she watched Kyle look for- whatever he was looking for.</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Pale Dress --- Kyle was methodical. His eyes scanned every nook and cranny of the store. He was looking for the entrance to the basement, of course. There was another door in the rear that may lead to it, but he had to take care of something first. His eyes shifted toward Anastasia, watching as items faded from what seemed like existence. His eyes narrowed and his pace slowed. He ran his hand along the length of a wall, buying himself some time. There were so many questions he needed answers to. He wanted to know how they managed to find out about his manifestation. How they knew of anyone's manifestation. Did they solely work with spies and the disenfranchised eyes of the cities, luring them with promises of riches and rewards? Perhaps it was something far more sinister. When Anastasia appeared next to him, Kyle moved incredibly quickly. His left hand wrapped around her throat, clutching tightly as he propelled her body against the naked wall. His right clutched at his pistol, moving swiftly to her forehead. The weapon worked on a series of safety mechanisms, having to actually grip the pistol to release the first. The second was built into the trigger itself. His finger slowly squeezed the safety catch back and was only a centimeter from releasing the firing pin. He wasn't sure what this woman was capable of, but he doubted she was quicker than an object traveling at 900 feet per second. "Where the fuck did you come from?!" he spat venomously, keeping his voice in a low growl. "Why were you in the park? His grip tightened over her throat, his thumb and fingers pressing into the jugular veins on either side of her neck as the webbing of his hand crushing into her windpipe. He relaxed after a second or two, meant to prove that he was not to be trifled with nor was this an idle threat. Kyle's life hung in the balance and he would do anything to preserve it. At least, until he got the answers he sought and wrought his vengeance against those who did him wrong.</s>	<\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store --- Not even a second after she reappeared, Anatasia was slammed against the wall, a hand wrapped around her throat. She seemed to let out a "Hissss" like a balloon letting out air or a snake in danger. Her immediate action was to claw at the hand that held her against the wall. Anastasia's hands froze over quickly, the hundreds of jagged edges trying to rip through his clothes to his skin. Not even to the meeting with Victoria yet and she was being betrayed? The gun was up against her forehead as she was weakly clawed around against the wall. Seriously? Did he expect her to answer while being in a choke-hold against the wall? Good luck with that. Kyle's webbing was pressing against her windpipe, too. She wasn't going to talk on low oxygen. Even if she could, Anastasia still wouldn't talk. She was an "innocent" Touched in the park. The blonde didn't have any important details. He relaxed to attempt showing he wasn't a threat, but it didn't help at all. Just as Anastasia felt his arm relaxing, both of her hands grabbed onto the one around her neck- and fully froze it over. So she wouldn't be shot from that, she immediately ripped open Kyle's fingers from her neck, the ice cracking as she quickly shuffled down to the floor. Just in case she was going to get kicked or shot from above, Anastasia rolled to the side and hopped back to a standing position. When Anastasia recovered onto her feet, she quickly made the thick frost shatter with a whip of her own frozen hands. "Never do that again," were the first words that escaped her mouth before answering. "Now, if you really want information out of me, keep in mind that I don't do it when held around the neck, even with a weapon against me. I know you're trying to get out of this alive, but threatening the people who are working with you and for the same reason doesn't help." She started with the first question he asked. "If you want the quick answer, I came from the motel down the street from the park." Anastasia would rub around the scratches on her neck and face with thin frost over her fingers in attempt to numb the pain. "And why I was there? The same reason the woman had: find peace, which apparently isn't possible," she spat. Anastasia quickly went invisible before he could try anything else, but didn't move from the place she stood at until the scratches were numb from the cold. After numbing the patches of pain she would silently roam the store again. Kyle was trying to find something against the walls, right? Must be a door or something. Easy. Her hand lightly ran against items in the store so they wouldn't disappear off, checking them for any off feature. Her eyes ran along the floor as well to see if there were any signs.</s>
<\|description\|>Anastasia Hashiga "We'll see about that." Nickname(s): Ana Age: 20 Gender: Female Appearance: Anatasia's is around average height of five feet six inches, having a fit body and a slightly plump face. Her dirty blonde hair goes down below her shoulders. It's messy most of the time as she repeatedly runs her hair through it often. Her hazel eyes shine bright a majority of the time but fades when the situation is bad. Ana's evenly pale skin has faint red scars here and there, most visible along her arms and face. Personality: Ana is dependent on anything and anyone at all costs. It doesn't matter what's happening, she has something or someone assisting her in the task. Even when she's alone she has access to somebody else to communicate with somehow. This is mainly due to insecurities and the extreme fear of being alone. However, when talking to people she's either aggressive and sassy or outgoing and open-minded. There's rarely an in between. Fortunately Anastasia is usually quiet and uses hand signals instead of talking. Background: When Anastasia came to the world, she grew up in a worrisome but positive family. Due to the conflict happening throughout the world, her parents wanted to keep their little girl as innocent as possible before she understood what was happening. Years pass and Anastasia didn't know much about people being hunted until her parents were killed for being possible suspects of being the Touched. She has had trauma ever since, depending on them quite often. Anastasia didn't want to get anywhere near the current situation of the abilities and war. It was until now when she found out that she was developing her own abilities, separating her even more from society. She was afraid of how many people that were murdering the Touched. She was going to have the same fate that her parents had, whether they had powers or not. Anastasia searched for others in secret to see if she could form allies to help in her problem. Abilities:* Animal Manipulation * Snow Manipulation * Invisibility Weapon(s): N/A Other: N/A</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Pale Dress --- Kyle was methodical. His eyes scanned every nook and cranny of the store. He was looking for the entrance to the basement, of course. There was another door in the rear that may lead to it, but he had to take care of something first. His eyes shifted toward Anastasia, watching as items faded from what seemed like existence. His eyes narrowed and his pace slowed. He ran his hand along the length of a wall, buying himself some time. There were so many questions he needed answers to. He wanted to know how they managed to find out about his manifestation. How they knew of anyone's manifestation. Did they solely work with spies and the disenfranchised eyes of the cities, luring them with promises of riches and rewards? Perhaps it was something far more sinister. When Anastasia appeared next to him, Kyle moved incredibly quickly. His left hand wrapped around her throat, clutching tightly as he propelled her body against the naked wall. His right clutched at his pistol, moving swiftly to her forehead. The weapon worked on a series of safety mechanisms, having to actually grip the pistol to release the first. The second was built into the trigger itself. His finger slowly squeezed the safety catch back and was only a centimeter from releasing the firing pin. He wasn't sure what this woman was capable of, but he doubted she was quicker than an object traveling at 900 feet per second. "Where the fuck did you come from?!" he spat venomously, keeping his voice in a low growl. "Why were you in the park? His grip tightened over her throat, his thumb and fingers pressing into the jugular veins on either side of her neck as the webbing of his hand crushing into her windpipe. He relaxed after a second or two, meant to prove that he was not to be trifled with nor was this an idle threat. Kyle's life hung in the balance and he would do anything to preserve it. At least, until he got the answers he sought and wrought his vengeance against those who did him wrong.</s> <\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Anastasia Hashiga Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store --- Not even a second after she reappeared, Anatasia was slammed against the wall, a hand wrapped around her throat. She seemed to let out a "Hissss" like a balloon letting out air or a snake in danger. Her immediate action was to claw at the hand that held her against the wall. Anastasia's hands froze over quickly, the hundreds of jagged edges trying to rip through his clothes to his skin. Not even to the meeting with Victoria yet and she was being betrayed? The gun was up against her forehead as she was weakly clawed around against the wall. Seriously? Did he expect her to answer while being in a choke-hold against the wall? Good luck with that. Kyle's webbing was pressing against her windpipe, too. She wasn't going to talk on low oxygen. Even if she could, Anastasia still wouldn't talk. She was an "innocent" Touched in the park. The blonde didn't have any important details. He relaxed to attempt showing he wasn't a threat, but it didn't help at all. Just as Anastasia felt his arm relaxing, both of her hands grabbed onto the one around her neck- and fully froze it over. So she wouldn't be shot from that, she immediately ripped open Kyle's fingers from her neck, the ice cracking as she quickly shuffled down to the floor. Just in case she was going to get kicked or shot from above, Anastasia rolled to the side and hopped back to a standing position. When Anastasia recovered onto her feet, she quickly made the thick frost shatter with a whip of her own frozen hands. "Never do that again," were the first words that escaped her mouth before answering. "Now, if you really want information out of me, keep in mind that I don't do it when held around the neck, even with a weapon against me. I know you're trying to get out of this alive, but threatening the people who are working with you and for the same reason doesn't help." She started with the first question he asked. "If you want the quick answer, I came from the motel down the street from the park." Anastasia would rub around the scratches on her neck and face with thin frost over her fingers in attempt to numb the pain. "And why I was there? The same reason the woman had: find peace, which apparently isn't possible," she spat. Anastasia quickly went invisible before he could try anything else, but didn't move from the place she stood at until the scratches were numb from the cold. After numbing the patches of pain she would silently roam the store again. Kyle was trying to find something against the walls, right? Must be a door or something. Easy. Her hand lightly ran against items in the store so they wouldn't disappear off, checking them for any off feature. Her eyes ran along the floor as well to see if there were any signs.</s> <\|message\|>Kyle Lucidius Location: The Pale Dress --- That was two powers he witnessed from her. The ability to cloak herself to her surroundings and slow the vibrations of matter, freezing things over. Very interesting. Kyle rarely did things out of character or in the heat of the moment. Yes, he was attempting to gain intelligence from the woman, which she freely gave after the fact, but he also discovered her innate talents. It was a risky endeavor, as she could have proved to have a much more dangerous ability. He remembered a teenage boy he dealt with some years ago. Brian, he believed his name was. A quadriplegic rendered useless in a state-of-the-art wheelchair but soon his powers began to the manifest. They ranged from inhibiting psychosomatic hallucinations in his victims to completely taking over their nervous systems. A string of random suicides lead Kyle to Chicago where he resided. They all had one common denominator among them and it was this boy. From nurses to doctors to insurance professionals. Those that screwed him or his family over soon met a tragic end. When the ice coated his left hand, he recoiled back, clutching it to his chest as he took a step backwards. He looked at Anastasia and holstered his pistol into his waist band, turning his back toward her. His hand began to heat up, his internal body temperature rising as he pushed the heat to the affected area. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his fingers, the ice melting almost as quickly as it had appeared. After the woman ended her rant, his voice softly carried through the empty store, "Keep in mind who the predator in the room is. Make yourself useful and look for any signs of the Resistance." The Resistance was a group of Touched that found each other a few years ago. It was in response to the establishment of the H.B.C.T.U., or, the Human Biological Counter-Terrorism Unit. This was the organization tasked with the research, tracking, and extermination of the Touched. At first it started out with good intentions. Those that would use their powers for evil were hunted with extreme prejudice but then a bill was passed in the federal government. Due to the increasing presence of the Touched, fear and panic was rampant. Akin to how Nazi propaganda during World War II, there were those in government that sculpted problems and pushed these fears across the public. The Afflicted Persons bill passed and the War on Terror took a turn for the worst. Prisons could not be built in time to house these individuals and a green light was given to the systematic murder of thousands. Kyle was part of the HBCTU. Or, rather, was... His ran across a wall, his finger tapping occasionally to see if there was a false wall. In one instance it felt hollow, but such a thing wasn't possible. This wall was against the brick structure of the building. Of course, he has seen weird things in the past several years. "Here..." He began looking around the wall for anything. What he found was something interesting. Near the floor behind a shelving unit, he noticed small runic patterns burnt into the wood itself. As his finger passed over them, they shimmered in an amber color. Suddenly, the wall faded from existence and revealed a circular staircase leading into darkness. He leaned over the side and peered into the abyss, his hand reaching for his weapon. Holding it to his side, he looked around for the woman.</s>	<\|message\|>Anastasia Hashiga Location: Pale Dress Clothing Store --- The predator? And who was that exactly? It must have been what he mentioned, the Resistance. Anastasia barely remembered what they were. If she remembered correctly, they were a group of other Touched people that "took care" of their own kind. But wouldn't that mean Kyle is- was part of it? He was tasked to kill the woman after all. Now he's getting chased down, too. This time, instead of asking him questions, Anastasia kept silent while checking around the store for clues. When she heard the faint mutter of the word "Here", a quick turn of her heel got her to face his direction. Kyle was at a wall - but also the same one against the brick structure of the building. What was so special about that? What was the difference in all of the other parts of the wall? Anatasia frowned slightly before walking around the tables and racks to be near Kyle. She kept her distance just in case he did something wrong, but close enough to follow his exact movements around the wall. Kyle seemed to have found something behind a shelving unit near the floor. Ana got curious to see it, using one leg to lean forward on and look over his shoulder. Rune patterns burnt in. Now that was something she could easily recognize. Anastasia saw them in shows, online, even occasionally passed or caught them on her free time. She managed to learn a few symbols, traps, and sigils herself as well. The woman would do them using ice instead of frost, the markings too clear for someone to see, having to use touch to actually find them. Maybe she could use them for this. Just as the man touched the rune patterns, the wall that he checked earlier disappeared from sight, like it faded from existence. A staircase was circling down into the darkness. He was trying to find the- basement? Seriously? Out of all things? Actually, Anastasia shouldn't be asking that. What about him triggering a fire runes? No, wait. The question just answered itself. But it's always good to make sure, isn't it? She looked back to Kyle, who was already next to the staircase with his gun to his side. He must have been trying to look for sign of- Victoria? That was right. Anatasia's face shifted to a neutral expression before reappearing back next to him. She still felt uneasy appearing so close to him, but she had to anyway. "So Mister Fire, are you just going to stand around or go in? We were looking for this to enter or do it out of spite? she asked in a low voice, rolling her eyes afterwards.</s>
<\|description\|>Andromedai Morgenstern Age: 30 Sex: Female Rank: Striker Commander Appearance: Weapons: Primary: Sniper Rifle System 99-Series 5 Anti-Matériel (SRS99-S5 AM) Secondary: M20/PDW-Silenced Items/Gear: A: Fragmentation Grenades (2) B: Explosive Charges (2) C: Flash Bangs (2) History: (CLASSIFIED) Personality: As a Class Four Spartan, Andromedai has a will of iron that is matched by her steadfast determination to thoroughly eliminate all hostiles that threaten the UNSC and all of Mankind. Some may call her reckless, but in truth she carefully plans out each of her actions before swiftly putting them into motion, there is no room for mistakes upon the battlefield. When upon the battlefield, she is straight minded and tactically sound. She will carry out her orders swiftly and to the letter but also stand among Team Rogue Seven, no matter where it will take her. At times, she can be unpredictable, using her creativity to overcome whatever challenges that are tossed her way. While not on a mission, she can be seen as a friendly, sarcastic woman with a sharp sense of humor, compassionate and willing to do whatever it takes for a mission to succeed.</s> <\|message\|>Koda 'Pouncer' Omicron - F428 Location: In-route to Space Station Colistis. Date: Year 2557 Universal Time: 10:53 The Pelican ride seemed to be quiet for the most part except the quiet chatter between the two pilots and the low hum of the engines. In the very back, on the left-most side sat Koda completely outfitted in his armor, he was in the process of going over the message that he had received from ONI, glancing over briefly he looked at his cybernetic arm which was fitted to look similar to his armor in both color and design, and had ports where his the armor pieces could be attached and unattached if need be. Standing from his seat he made his way up to the cockpit of the ship and looked out towards the space station that was getting ever so closer, the dim hull lights reflecting off his skulled visor made him look quite eerie as he tapped the co-pilot on the shoulder then pointed towards the station. "Yes sir that's it, we'll be landing soon and we'll get you as close as we can to your destination" the co-pilot said and was given a thumbs up by Koda in response as the Spartan turned on his heels and headed back to his seat. "UNSC Space Station Colistis this is Foxtrot 728 requesting permission to land in Pelican bay A33" he heard the pilot call out as he sat down. "Copy Foxtrot 728, Permission granted, Colistis out". Soon after the Pelican began to slow it's speed and start its approach into the Pelican bay, as it did Koda looked from his seat and out thought the cockpit window as the heavy blast-doors opened slowly, the lights from inside the station shined brightly though the window and illuminated the back of the interior of the pelican slightly. Is was not long before the Pelican was in the station and Koda heard the blast-doors closing once more before the ramp of the pelican opened, standing Koda reached up and grabbed a hold of the handle rack above him as he ship began to land, reaching down he grabbed the holopad from the seat beside him and stepped off the ship as it set down. Location: Space Station Colistis. Date: Year 2557 Universal Time: 11:18 Walking away from the pelican Koda immediately noticed Charon-class light frigate with the name 'Nova' along the side 'That must be it...' he thought as he walked down the pathway towards the lift that would lead up to the main docking platform. Once on the lift he pressed the button and it stated to rise, his mind wandered slightly as to what the rest of squad had been up to and if that had gotten into as much trouble as he had. The lift shook as it reached the top snapping Koda back into reality and soon he was back on his way towards the Nova,stepping into the airlock Koda was greeted by two heavily geared guards who informed him of where to go after opening the doors for him. Upon setting foot onto the ship the large Spartan was greeted by the ships AI unit "Welcome Major Omicron, I'm Nesalla, Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant aboard the ship. Colonel Icarus and Striker Commander Andromedai are currently awaiting your arrival upon the deck of the ship. Please make your way there, and if you need any assistance please don't be shy to ask." Koda nodded in response and immediately headed for the main deck, following the illuminated signs made it easy for Koda to get to the main deck, it was a lot easier to navigate the the science station he was assigned to previously. Walking onto the main deck he saw Colonel Icarus and his Striker Commander Andromedai, stopping a few feet away from them he stood at attention and saluted using his cybernetic arm "Pouncer, reporting for duty"</s> <\|message\|>Gerard Wulff Space Station Colistis Year 2557 1053 A lone Pelican dropship came into view. Gerard starred at it intently, watching the ship slowly making a landing approach. In the background, an electronic voice was emitting from his PDA. "SPARTAN 396, Master Gunnery Sargent Gerard Wulff, you are hereby being reassigned to Rogue Seven. Report to Space Station Colistis and wait further instructions." The words echoed in the emptiness of the lone Spartan's room. "Replay message." His voice was gruff and low. "SPARTAN 396, Master Gunnery Sargent Gerard..." The voice trailed off, repeating the same message. Wulff couldn't believe that his old team was being brought back together. Rogue Seven was one of the top SPARTAN teams, excelling at every mission they were given. After the break up, Gerard was reassigned to train new Class 4 SPARTANS and several highly classified solo operations. The Pelican disappeared from view as it landed within Docking Bay AA3. A voice, different from the one that emitted from the PDA, broke the silence. "Master Gunnery Sargent Wulff, Greetings. I am Nesalla, Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant aboard the ship. Colonel Icarus, Strike Commander Andromedai Morgenstern, and Major Koda Omnicron are waiting you abroad the deck on Colonel Icarus' ship. If you could follow the illuminated signs, they will direct you to them. If you have any questions or require any assistance, please ask." Wulff turned to face the AI. "When did Strike Commander Morgenstern and Major Omnicron arrive?" his voice retaining its tone. "Strike Commander Andromedai Morgenstern arrived quite some time before you. Major Koda Omnicron has only just arrived." The AI replied quickly. "Do you have any further questions?" Nesalla added in. Gerard waved the AI off, leaving him alone in his room again. The Spartan donned his helmet and retrieved his PDA before exiting his room. As he followed the signs, he pasted many of those on the station. They all looked at him in awe, as he towered over them, his footsteps were heavy from his armor. A line of marines doing calisthenics in one of the bays all stopped. "Is that a Spartan? I didn't know they were on board!" The marines ran over to watch Gerard, but were quickly scolded by their CO. "Quit oogling like a couple of school girls! I want seventy-five more push ups and then a run around the station in full suit!" the CO barked at his marines. The marines all moaned in unison, dreading the upcoming run. As Gerard entered docking bay AA3, he noticed the Charon-class light frigate, the word 'NOVA' boldly painted on the side. The AI reappeared on a pedestal near Gerard. "Please, continue forth, Master Gunnery Sarge-" The Spartan raised his hand to silence the AI. "Call me Wulff." he said coldly. "Of course, Master Gunner- Wulff." She smiled. The Spartan noticed the pelican he saw earlier. Nesalla chimed in "Major Koda Omnicron is already on deck, Wulff." The man nodded and continued forth towards the ship. Arriving at the airlock, two guards opened it. One of them told him where to go and whom was there. The door hissed closed behind him and he made his way to the main deck. As he made his way in, he could see Colonel Icarus, the Strike Commander, and Koda. He made his way next to Koda. Immediately stopping next to Koda, he stood at attention and snapped into a salute. "Spartan 396, Master Gunnery Sargent Gerard Wulff, reporting in." Without moving his head, Gerard peered over at Koda. He was relieved to see him. Koda Omnicron was a man of little words and a lot of action, which Gerard respected and what made him like Koda the most compared to his other teammates.</s> <\|message\|>Riley Parish Inner Colonies - Space Station Colistis - Year 2557 - Universal Time: 11:26 --- --- Riley sat in the back of the pelican as it flew through space towards Station Colistis, her steel colored helmet laid on the seat next to her the visor was a dark red mainly for the intimidation factor with small areas of red with the same detail on the rest of her RAIDER armor. "Lieutenant Parish, ETA to Colistis five minutes." Riley looked towards the pilot and gave him a quick smile and nod as she stood up and made her way towards the end of the pelican. Since the team was disbanded Riley had been assigned to covert missions in former control Covenant space gathering intel for ONI. About five minutes later the Pelican entered one of the many hangar bays on the station, she put on her helmet briefly getting a layout of the station finding the quickest route to the hangar that she was ordered to meet at. Once the bay to the pelican opened up Riley stepped off of the ramp and into the brightly lit hangar, she looked at several of the soldiers remembering her former days as a UNSC grunt. She tied her long brown hair into a pony tail as she started making her way through the hallways until she was at Docking Bay AA3, she saw a couple of civilians that worked on the station they had the in awe look at her. The Spartan gave a smile towards the people as she made her way towards the docking bay, once she was inside Riley noticed the Charon Light-Frigate that was docked there. "Good day Lieutenant Parish, I am Nesalla, Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant aboard the ship, Wulf, Koda and Andromedai are all ready in just follow the illuminated lights." The AI said before disappearing Riley already knew where to actually go as she grew up sometimes traveling with her parents. She made her way towards the deck of the ship, the Spartan smiled brightly at the three former squad mates of Rogue Seven. She moved over and gave Koda and Wulf quick friendly hugs and then saluted Andromedai. "It's good to see all of you again."</s>	<\|message\|>Andromedai Morgenstern In the middle of the bridge, there was a large table that had a holographic projector built into it. From here, both Strike Commander Andromedai and Colonel Icarus were reviewing the information about the mission they were about to embark on. Important informing was slowly being Suddenly fed from ONI, directly to their ship. Most of the information was already common knowledge but parts of it were quite intriguing. This information included knowledge about the forerunners but also mention about team Osiris and Blue Team. Suddenly, the fully formed digital figure of Nesalla appeared upon the table with her arms crossed over her chest. Once she had everyone's attention, she spoke. "My apologies if I am interrupting but I just received word that we have discovered the crash location of the Argent Dawn upon Erathell. Recent scans show that there have been no lifeforms or activity upon the Argent Dawn in the last twenty four hours. If Solares was on the ship, she isn't there anymore. After hearing the message for myself, I am willing to guess that she engaged some hostile force while taking shelter upon the ship and was then forced the flee using her active camouflage. Due to the severity of her injuries, it is unlikely she made it that far. I do not like to consider this a possibility but she may have been captured by the Covenant or by any active Prometheans upon Erathell. Regardless of what has transpired with her, we need to make our way to Erathell as quickly as possible." Both Andromedai and Icarus agreed on that, but they couldn't leave until all of Rogue Seven was onboard and ready to depart. Andromedai sighed then spoke her mind, "I went through complete Spartan training with Solares, she is more of an older sister to me than a friend. I have complete faith that she can hold her ground and remain out of the enemies hands until we arrive." These words were spoken only a few seconds before the first of Rogue Seven appeared upon the bridge. Now, three of her squad mates stood in front of her as an odd feeling ran through her body. "Pounce, Wulff, Riley, at ease..." Andromedai looked each of her old squad mates over with a nod of great approval. "ONI never should have broken up Rogue Seven, we could have made a huge difference back in the day, but enough living in the past." Turning to face the table in the middle of the bridge, Andromedai quickly gave orders for Nesalla to all the information about the mission with them. The briefing went on for a while as every last detail was explained and laid out before Rogue Seven. "That is all we have to go by, we know Solares is somewhere down upon the surface of the planet, either hiding from all sources or captured from the enemy. As impressive as Solares's records and skills look, being severely wounded and alone upon a planet with potentially two hostiles is going to push her to her limits. If my records are correct, which they always are, we are missing a few more members of Rogue Seven. Once they arrive, we will depart immediately for the ONI station and the Orion. If there are any questions, I will do my best to answer them before we depart."</s>
<\|description\|>Riley Parish Age: 35 Sex: Female Rank: Lieutenant Appearance: Weapons: MA5D ICWS M6D Magnum 3x Frag grenades. Items/Gear: First aid kit, 3x clips for both weapons. History: Riley was originally born and raised on Mars, both of her parents were apart of the UNSC Navy both of them were commanding their own ships, they were veterans fighting against the insurrectionists. When the war with the Covenant started Riley was born and her mother was on leave to raise her daughter, growing up she lived a pretty normal life she rarely ever saw her father due to the war. But she decided to become a marine and fight on the frontlines and help defend humanity even though they were losing the war. She rose through the ranks of the marines very quickly, that was when her superior suggested that she go for the ODST's. Riley spent several long grueling months to a year through their intensive training, which she eventually passed, when the Battle of Reach started that was where she had heard the news of the death of her mother and father. Riley was stationed on one of the defense platforms on Earth when the UNSC ordered the homefleet back to the Sol System to defend Earth, that's when Regrets fleet came through. She and her squad defended against their Covenant borders as the Covenant started planting bombs on the defense platforms. When the UNSC finally got most of the Covenant off the second wave carrying Truth's fleet to Earth came several weeks later. She was one of the few to battle against the Covenant at Voi, then the Flood came to Earth and the Arbiter's fleet came in glassing half of the continent just to prevent the flood from taking over. She was apart of the uneasy alliance with the Covenant separatists and fought at The Lesser Ark, when the war ended Riley was approached by some men and women recruiting her due to her service record which she agreed to. She went through the long training and then the augmentation process, which she survived the procedure as well as training taking sometime she got used to them. She was then assigned to the Spartan Fireteam Rogue Seven alongside Andromedai. Personality: Riley is usually seen as a very calm and collected person a lot of the time, it is very rare to see her get stressed out in combat. She is known to crack some jokes just to try and lighten the mood of the other squadmates and will take the time to try and get to know all of them when she has the time to.</s> <\|message\|>Riley Parish Inner Colonies - Space Station Colistis - Year 2557 - Universal Time: 11:26 --- --- Riley sat in the back of the pelican as it flew through space towards Station Colistis, her steel colored helmet laid on the seat next to her the visor was a dark red mainly for the intimidation factor with small areas of red with the same detail on the rest of her RAIDER armor. "Lieutenant Parish, ETA to Colistis five minutes." Riley looked towards the pilot and gave him a quick smile and nod as she stood up and made her way towards the end of the pelican. Since the team was disbanded Riley had been assigned to covert missions in former control Covenant space gathering intel for ONI. About five minutes later the Pelican entered one of the many hangar bays on the station, she put on her helmet briefly getting a layout of the station finding the quickest route to the hangar that she was ordered to meet at. Once the bay to the pelican opened up Riley stepped off of the ramp and into the brightly lit hangar, she looked at several of the soldiers remembering her former days as a UNSC grunt. She tied her long brown hair into a pony tail as she started making her way through the hallways until she was at Docking Bay AA3, she saw a couple of civilians that worked on the station they had the in awe look at her. The Spartan gave a smile towards the people as she made her way towards the docking bay, once she was inside Riley noticed the Charon Light-Frigate that was docked there. "Good day Lieutenant Parish, I am Nesalla, Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant aboard the ship, Wulf, Koda and Andromedai are all ready in just follow the illuminated lights." The AI said before disappearing Riley already knew where to actually go as she grew up sometimes traveling with her parents. She made her way towards the deck of the ship, the Spartan smiled brightly at the three former squad mates of Rogue Seven. She moved over and gave Koda and Wulf quick friendly hugs and then saluted Andromedai. "It's good to see all of you again."</s> <\|message\|>Andromedai Morgenstern In the middle of the bridge, there was a large table that had a holographic projector built into it. From here, both Strike Commander Andromedai and Colonel Icarus were reviewing the information about the mission they were about to embark on. Important informing was slowly being Suddenly fed from ONI, directly to their ship. Most of the information was already common knowledge but parts of it were quite intriguing. This information included knowledge about the forerunners but also mention about team Osiris and Blue Team. Suddenly, the fully formed digital figure of Nesalla appeared upon the table with her arms crossed over her chest. Once she had everyone's attention, she spoke. "My apologies if I am interrupting but I just received word that we have discovered the crash location of the Argent Dawn upon Erathell. Recent scans show that there have been no lifeforms or activity upon the Argent Dawn in the last twenty four hours. If Solares was on the ship, she isn't there anymore. After hearing the message for myself, I am willing to guess that she engaged some hostile force while taking shelter upon the ship and was then forced the flee using her active camouflage. Due to the severity of her injuries, it is unlikely she made it that far. I do not like to consider this a possibility but she may have been captured by the Covenant or by any active Prometheans upon Erathell. Regardless of what has transpired with her, we need to make our way to Erathell as quickly as possible." Both Andromedai and Icarus agreed on that, but they couldn't leave until all of Rogue Seven was onboard and ready to depart. Andromedai sighed then spoke her mind, "I went through complete Spartan training with Solares, she is more of an older sister to me than a friend. I have complete faith that she can hold her ground and remain out of the enemies hands until we arrive." These words were spoken only a few seconds before the first of Rogue Seven appeared upon the bridge. Now, three of her squad mates stood in front of her as an odd feeling ran through her body. "Pounce, Wulff, Riley, at ease..." Andromedai looked each of her old squad mates over with a nod of great approval. "ONI never should have broken up Rogue Seven, we could have made a huge difference back in the day, but enough living in the past." Turning to face the table in the middle of the bridge, Andromedai quickly gave orders for Nesalla to all the information about the mission with them. The briefing went on for a while as every last detail was explained and laid out before Rogue Seven. "That is all we have to go by, we know Solares is somewhere down upon the surface of the planet, either hiding from all sources or captured from the enemy. As impressive as Solares's records and skills look, being severely wounded and alone upon a planet with potentially two hostiles is going to push her to her limits. If my records are correct, which they always are, we are missing a few more members of Rogue Seven. Once they arrive, we will depart immediately for the ONI station and the Orion. If there are any questions, I will do my best to answer them before we depart."</s> <\|message\|>Carly Renton Carly's trip was quiet and lonesome. The only noise coming from the beeping of her data pad, and the occasional rumble of the engines. There was a swish from the cockpit door, as the co-pilot walked in and saluted to her, without looking up Carly spoke; "Drop the formalities Marine It's been too long a trip, how far out are we?" The marine looked quite awkward as he dropped his stance to a more casual position."We're just coming in on the station, now, you've been directed to Dock AA3", the marine promptly walked out and left Carly to her mission reports. As the pelican touched down, she grabbed her satchel and jumped out the back. Leaving a few credits on her seat. She put on her helmet and made her way to the Docking bay. She knew she would already be late she had one heck of a journey. She made her way to the location given to her by the pilot, not after stopping to pick something up at the nearest mess hall She knew it was going to be a long journey, after all, it had to be important to ONI to bring back Rogue seven. After picking up a sandwich and throwing it in her satchel she ran to docking bay provided to her. Just as she was about to enter the ship she was interrupted by an AI, "Hello Sargeant Renton, I am Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant, you may refer to me as Nesalla Your squadmates are already on board the bridge." The AI spoke calmly with a sense of authority about it. "Thank you, How late am I?" The reply came swiftly; "You are currently ten minutes late, Strike Commander Andromedai is just finishing up, I suggest you hurry Sargeant" Carly dismissed the Ai and made her way quickly to the Bridge just as Nesalla had ended. "Sergeant Renton reporting in." She turned to Andromedai. "Apologies for the delay ma'am, Had a bit of a trip," She inspected those that had arrived, It had been sometime Since they had been together, She just hoped that the bonds they had formed had still stayed intact. Carly checked her Datapad and just as expected Nesalla had, luckily for Carly, already sent the details to her. Carly took off her helmet and examined the details, Trying to find as many possible scenarios as possible. "I have no questions, But if possible I would like Nessalla to Send me the latest basic medical forms for the strike team, recent injuries, and all that jazz, The standard procedure," As much as Carly wanted to sit down and catch up she knew she had a job to do first.</s> <\|message\|>Gerard Wulff "It's good to see all of you again." Gerard smiled underneath his helmet and gave Riley's shoulder a quick pat in response to the hug. "It's good to see you as well, Riley." the Spartan said in a soft gentle voice. His stance relaxed. The fact that his 'brothers' and 'sisters' were all coming together again put him at ease. He never felt so isolated and exposed when he was without them. But, those were darker times and he had so much to look forward to with Rogue Seven coming back together. If there are any questions, I will do my best to answer them before we depart." "Striker Commander, this seems to be a cloak and dagger Op. Why do we require the Orion? From what I have heard, and not much, it seems to be a heavy class ship. Don't you think it'll turn a few heads?" He encircled the holo-table, his eyes darting between his teammates. His foot steps were heavy and echoed slightly. He stopped shortly before Andromedai. The Spartan stood silently, unable to find his words. He wanted to ask what if Solares was dead, but instead he continued encircling the table. He knew losing a Spartan would be a big impact of morale all across the UNSC. ONI's Directive 930 was revoked some time ago, revealing the status of all Spartans. These super-soldiers remained super, but the title of immortality faded. In his head he thought, Spartans never die. Carly entered, a sight for sore and weary eyes. "I have no questions, But if possible I would like Nessalla to Send me the latest basic medical forms for the strike team, recent injuries, and all that jazz, The standard procedure," "Well, Carly, I did pull a muscle on my way here, so if you'd like to take a look at that, be my guest." Wulff jested. He made his way over to her. His voice was but a whisper, "You were missed." His voice seemed shaky and sorrowful, but peaked right back up to it's gruff and low tone. "But, about that muscle, it is killing me. I am not going to do this mission with a pulled hamstring." He stated with a coy grin.</s> <\|message\|>Koda 'Pouncer' Omicron - F428 Koda glanced back at Riley when he was hugged and in return he gave her a nod, when given the order to relax he turned and hugged Riley back before moving up to the holo-table with Gerard, but upon hearing Carly enter he looked back at her and motioned to his wrist and tapped it as if to say she was late. Moving back to the holo-pad he examined it closely and folded his arms. "Striker Commander, this seems to be a cloak and dagger Op. Why do we require the Orion? From what I have heard, and not much, it seems to be a heavy class ship. Don't you think it'll turn a few heads?" Koda had to agree with Wulff on this one, it seemed a bit excessive unless they where planning something more. "I have several questions as well. What kind of terrain are we looking at, should we split the group in two for better coverage of the area, and what are we to do if Solares is captured, do you want us to move to eliminate if rescue is out of the question, I apologize of I sound rather cold on this Boss but I'm trying to take in possible scenarios that could take place. Koda said looking at Andromedai. Normally Koda would never voice something like that but it was something he needed to take into consideration, It was a question like this that could easily hurt reputation. But it also show he was willing to do something that others where not in-order to get the job done. "I have no questions, But if possible I would like Nessalla to Send me the latest basic medical forms for the strike team, recent injuries, and all that jazz, The standard procedure," Looking at his own datapad he pulled up everything that Carly would need to know about him when they where disbanded before whistling to get her attention then tossing the datapad to her "I'll need that back when your done with it" he said then turned and walked away from the holo-table and began to pace slightly as he thought. "Coveys are gonna pay for this" he mumbled to himself.</s>	<\|message\|>Riley Parish Riley smiled back at her squadmates as she took a step back and leaned up against the wall as she listened in on the briefing as she turned her head and saw Carly coming in another female squadmate that she enjoyed hanging out during their off time between ops. "It's great to see you again Carly." Riley said with a smile as she looked back towards Andromedai she looked over towards Wulf asking about the Orion and knew the answer as she had spent her time since the team disbanded in the outer colonies as well as Covenant Space. "Erathel is on the edge of UNSC space, so the threats out there are Kig-Yar pirates, Insurrectionists as well as the Covenant Remnant. And obviously any of those groups would attack easy picking targets on the spot, this also shows that the UNSC still has its strength despite the end of the war." Riley said. She turned to look up at Andromedai for a moment and ran a hand through her hair. "That's about the gist I know of current politics within the outer colonies." She turned to look over at Carly once more and smiled at her. "Well you could always just pull us all aside one by one and do the usual medical questions to, also catch up on all the good old times as well."</s>
<\|description\|>Carly Renton Age: 29 Sex: Female Rank: Sargeant Weapons: M392 Designated Marksman Rifle, M6D pistol Items/Gear: Advanced medical kit, Bio-Foam, 2x Fragmentation-grenades History: To ONI Operative 240, Carly started off life in a small village in the United kingdom, born in a large family of farmers she initially wanted to become a doctor, but after the human covenant war started, she soon started to train in order to conscript, and at the age of she enlisted as a medical officer, proceeding to do her medical training and was soon shipped out to help on the front line. Carly had an interesting start to her military career, Initially starting in the marines she participated in the battle of Battle of Sigma Octanus IV and was one of the last survivors, alongside her companion Marine 022, of the marine forces on the planet, only managing to survive by sealing off the medical area of the Alpha HQ having to defend it against covenant until the strike force returned. After that operation, Carly was stationed on one of the orbiting space stations above reach, doing essential medical surgeries on casualties on the planet below. After reach fell she was evacuated back to earth where she had a week of shore leave where she met up with her family, but unfortunately was stationed on New Mombasa just before the slip space incident. Her Squad all perished on the mission forcing Carly to hike along side ODSTs, taking the place of their deceased medical officer, and helping them to evacuate the residential district and eventually destroy a covenant operating base. Just outside the city. After the operation, Carly was recommended for an ODST position but thankfully declined, the reasons she gave, being that she was "otherwise engaged." But as her Acting commanding officer, I believe it was for other reasons. after she was approached she was given a Recon position in UNSC with marine 022, after many missions the both of them were approached to enlist in the Spartan 4 program. After her rehabilitation period she underwent a psychiatric assessment as all Spartans must and just to outline the results; the psychiatrist mentioned that "she carried some trauma about lost comrades on her first mission, and often is too quick to blame herself for when something goes wrong, though it seems spartan 022 seems to be helping her through, I would recommend that they paired together upon future missions." after an incident on a mission behind enemy lines, Spartan 022 was shot in the head by an elite and was instantly killed, Carly completed the reconnaissance and carried his body back to their drop ship. where she buried his body and left the planet. After the incident, ONI picked up on her skills and she was enlisted in the Rouge seven fireteam. Besides that, There's not much I can tell you that's already in her ONI file, and not classified, Attached is also a list of most notable missions, and mission outcomes that might come in handy for some pre-mission reading. --- OPERATION GOLDEN SPIRE OBJECTIVE Set up and keep control of HQ Alpha OUTCOME Victory, at a high cost. CASUALTIES Whole of squad Bravo 44 designated KIA, except Marine Bravo 021 currently refusing medical treatment. OPERATION GOLDEN TRIANGLE OBJECTIVE: Evacuate Civilians from residential district of New Mombasa OUTCOME: Success. Bravo 021 reassigned to ODST squad Echo-03 in order to aid in OPERATION FLAMING SPEAR. CASUALTIES: Delta 46 Designated MIA. OPERATION FALLING HAMMER OBJECTIVE: Gather information on Covenant Fleet Master, and flagship "Vigilant Redemption" OUTCOME: Operation Success CASUALTIES: Spartan 022 designated MIA --- I wish you the Best of Luck upon your operation, her transport has already been re-routed to the coordinates provided. -Commander Bradley Personality: Carly isn't one of those people you can describe in a sentence; on a mission, she is a complex mix of emotions and calculations. If in conversation with her old teammates they would explain that during a mission you can almost hear her running combat possibilities in her head, However during a mission break, Carly seems to change personality, switching from a combat drilled machine into a calm relaxed being, preferring to sit and drink with comrades. She has recently been a Bit shaken due to her loss and has received a psychiatric assessment, and is considered fit for duty.</s> <\|message\|>Riley Parish Inner Colonies - Space Station Colistis - Year 2557 - Universal Time: 11:26 --- --- Riley sat in the back of the pelican as it flew through space towards Station Colistis, her steel colored helmet laid on the seat next to her the visor was a dark red mainly for the intimidation factor with small areas of red with the same detail on the rest of her RAIDER armor. "Lieutenant Parish, ETA to Colistis five minutes." Riley looked towards the pilot and gave him a quick smile and nod as she stood up and made her way towards the end of the pelican. Since the team was disbanded Riley had been assigned to covert missions in former control Covenant space gathering intel for ONI. About five minutes later the Pelican entered one of the many hangar bays on the station, she put on her helmet briefly getting a layout of the station finding the quickest route to the hangar that she was ordered to meet at. Once the bay to the pelican opened up Riley stepped off of the ramp and into the brightly lit hangar, she looked at several of the soldiers remembering her former days as a UNSC grunt. She tied her long brown hair into a pony tail as she started making her way through the hallways until she was at Docking Bay AA3, she saw a couple of civilians that worked on the station they had the in awe look at her. The Spartan gave a smile towards the people as she made her way towards the docking bay, once she was inside Riley noticed the Charon Light-Frigate that was docked there. "Good day Lieutenant Parish, I am Nesalla, Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant aboard the ship, Wulf, Koda and Andromedai are all ready in just follow the illuminated lights." The AI said before disappearing Riley already knew where to actually go as she grew up sometimes traveling with her parents. She made her way towards the deck of the ship, the Spartan smiled brightly at the three former squad mates of Rogue Seven. She moved over and gave Koda and Wulf quick friendly hugs and then saluted Andromedai. "It's good to see all of you again."</s> <\|message\|>Andromedai Morgenstern In the middle of the bridge, there was a large table that had a holographic projector built into it. From here, both Strike Commander Andromedai and Colonel Icarus were reviewing the information about the mission they were about to embark on. Important informing was slowly being Suddenly fed from ONI, directly to their ship. Most of the information was already common knowledge but parts of it were quite intriguing. This information included knowledge about the forerunners but also mention about team Osiris and Blue Team. Suddenly, the fully formed digital figure of Nesalla appeared upon the table with her arms crossed over her chest. Once she had everyone's attention, she spoke. "My apologies if I am interrupting but I just received word that we have discovered the crash location of the Argent Dawn upon Erathell. Recent scans show that there have been no lifeforms or activity upon the Argent Dawn in the last twenty four hours. If Solares was on the ship, she isn't there anymore. After hearing the message for myself, I am willing to guess that she engaged some hostile force while taking shelter upon the ship and was then forced the flee using her active camouflage. Due to the severity of her injuries, it is unlikely she made it that far. I do not like to consider this a possibility but she may have been captured by the Covenant or by any active Prometheans upon Erathell. Regardless of what has transpired with her, we need to make our way to Erathell as quickly as possible." Both Andromedai and Icarus agreed on that, but they couldn't leave until all of Rogue Seven was onboard and ready to depart. Andromedai sighed then spoke her mind, "I went through complete Spartan training with Solares, she is more of an older sister to me than a friend. I have complete faith that she can hold her ground and remain out of the enemies hands until we arrive." These words were spoken only a few seconds before the first of Rogue Seven appeared upon the bridge. Now, three of her squad mates stood in front of her as an odd feeling ran through her body. "Pounce, Wulff, Riley, at ease..." Andromedai looked each of her old squad mates over with a nod of great approval. "ONI never should have broken up Rogue Seven, we could have made a huge difference back in the day, but enough living in the past." Turning to face the table in the middle of the bridge, Andromedai quickly gave orders for Nesalla to all the information about the mission with them. The briefing went on for a while as every last detail was explained and laid out before Rogue Seven. "That is all we have to go by, we know Solares is somewhere down upon the surface of the planet, either hiding from all sources or captured from the enemy. As impressive as Solares's records and skills look, being severely wounded and alone upon a planet with potentially two hostiles is going to push her to her limits. If my records are correct, which they always are, we are missing a few more members of Rogue Seven. Once they arrive, we will depart immediately for the ONI station and the Orion. If there are any questions, I will do my best to answer them before we depart."</s>	<\|message\|>Carly Renton Carly's trip was quiet and lonesome. The only noise coming from the beeping of her data pad, and the occasional rumble of the engines. There was a swish from the cockpit door, as the co-pilot walked in and saluted to her, without looking up Carly spoke; "Drop the formalities Marine It's been too long a trip, how far out are we?" The marine looked quite awkward as he dropped his stance to a more casual position."We're just coming in on the station, now, you've been directed to Dock AA3", the marine promptly walked out and left Carly to her mission reports. As the pelican touched down, she grabbed her satchel and jumped out the back. Leaving a few credits on her seat. She put on her helmet and made her way to the Docking bay. She knew she would already be late she had one heck of a journey. She made her way to the location given to her by the pilot, not after stopping to pick something up at the nearest mess hall She knew it was going to be a long journey, after all, it had to be important to ONI to bring back Rogue seven. After picking up a sandwich and throwing it in her satchel she ran to docking bay provided to her. Just as she was about to enter the ship she was interrupted by an AI, "Hello Sargeant Renton, I am Colonel Icarus's personal AI assistant, you may refer to me as Nesalla Your squadmates are already on board the bridge." The AI spoke calmly with a sense of authority about it. "Thank you, How late am I?" The reply came swiftly; "You are currently ten minutes late, Strike Commander Andromedai is just finishing up, I suggest you hurry Sargeant" Carly dismissed the Ai and made her way quickly to the Bridge just as Nesalla had ended. "Sergeant Renton reporting in." She turned to Andromedai. "Apologies for the delay ma'am, Had a bit of a trip," She inspected those that had arrived, It had been sometime Since they had been together, She just hoped that the bonds they had formed had still stayed intact. Carly checked her Datapad and just as expected Nesalla had, luckily for Carly, already sent the details to her. Carly took off her helmet and examined the details, Trying to find as many possible scenarios as possible. "I have no questions, But if possible I would like Nessalla to Send me the latest basic medical forms for the strike team, recent injuries, and all that jazz, The standard procedure," As much as Carly wanted to sit down and catch up she knew she had a job to do first.</s>
<\|description\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) Age: Unknown (For the same reasons stated above.) Appearance: He's the guy in the red helmet wearing the gas mask who's currently charging at you with a rusty chainsaw while making sounds similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games. Rank: Super-General-Lieutenant-Captain-Sergeant-Commander Level 5 (He's killed so many people, we had to make up a new rank for him. We've lost count of how many he's killed, so don't ask.) Position: All of them. (But we strongly recommend that you politely decline receiving medical treatment from Crazy unless you're REALLY desperate. We also strongly recommend not eating anything he cooks when he's fulfilling his duties as a cook unless EXTREME desperation requires it.) Weapons: All of them as well.</s> <\|message\|>David Jones David jumped a bit when the Major flipped off the radio, starting to speak in protest, but deciding it better if he just answered her question. "None so far, Major. 200 frequencies, and all but three of them are static. You're welcome to listen in, but I doubt you'll find anything new." With that, he flipped the radio back on, tuned it to the third of the frequencies he'd found with a working broadcast, as that one seemed the most usable, and slid the headset off from under his helmet, handing it to Helena as he stood. Sliding the pack onto his back, he turned so that the controls faced the Major, waiting for a confirmation of what he'd found.</s> <\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) As David offered the controls to the Major, 2 soldiers ran past carrying Private Higgins on a stretcher as he convulsed uncontrollably. "His true form is beyond our comprehension!" the Private rambled "Wolf for head! Snake for legs! Anteater for arms! HIPPOPOTAMUS FOR TORSO! BELIEVE ME! BELIEVE MEEEEEEeeeee eeeee- ". Private Higgins was carried out of earshot before he could finish his long 'me'.</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) @DepressedSoviet Before the Major got down to messing with the controls on the radio, she watched the two soldiers with the stretcher zip by. Higgins, well...he was totally FUBAR. "Son of a bitch..." The Major muttered shaking her head. "Don't tell me they were serving those glowing rats again in the mess hall." She sighed fiddling with the dials, mostly getting nothing but static.</s> <\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) If the Major was to tune into the Yellow's radio channel now, she would judge that from the sounds of things, Crazy had run into them in his search for blood and violence and was now hacking them to pieces with his chainsaw and the occasional commandeered firearm. The radio operator's panicked voice that was most likely requesting backup was periodically interspersed with screaming and Crazy's hunter noises. Eventually, the radio operator began screaming too as he was attacked and murdered by Crazy, who also destroyed the Yellow radio in the process and left the Major with only 2 frequencies that weren't static.</s> <\|message\|>Changes his name sporadically and he HATES IT when he's not called by his name. Travis wandered the waste lands alone, a necklace of rat heads on his neck as he alternated between moving on all 4s and on 2 legs. A picture of a skull was drawn in his helmet, seemingly with dried blood. "I am the hunter.."-he muttered in a deep ragged voice as he moved surprisingly quickly on all 4s thinking himself to be one of those ancient hunting jungle tribes but, in reality he looked more like Gollum from Lord of the Rings. "I am the predator.."- he continued his monologue but was interrupted upon hearing noises coming from the other side of a tall ruined building. "And you will be my prey!"- as he was making to enter the building for a better vantage point, a voice came from behind him. "Hey there! Hey you, can you hear me?"- a fellow red called to him. As Steve turned back to see, knifes in hand ready for action, he spotted 2 fellow reds seemingly returning to their camp from a mission. "Oy mate, IT'S STEVE! STEVE IS ALIVE! WHAT DID I TELL YOU!? You owe me 2 weeks worth of lunch." "Yeah, yeah, whatever.." They knew his name? He just changed it to Steve 5 seco...of course they knew his name, how couldn't they? As they approached him, he quickly rose on 2 feet, threw the head necklace aside..and the teeth bracelet..and the tail belt, changing his voice into a more normal one. "Hey, how are you?"-he said to the 2 unknown reds who had mistaken him for their friend..which had confused him into thinking they were also his friends. "I was just about to ente.."-he started but was interrupted by one of the reds. "Same as us, we just came back from a mission, heading for home camp right now."- as he got closer he continued-"Say, is that blood on your forehead?" Shit, he forgot to wipe that out.-"The blood of a yellow."- quickly answered. "I don't think blood stains from a dying victim are supposed to take the shape of a skull"- the red later added while at the same time Steve was drawing out a knife. He couldn't let them learn of the deranged shit he did while away.. "The yellow, was a known artist." "See mate? Another proof that yellows are better than reds at everything. Even in death he was a better painter than any of us." "I don't think that's how it wo.." "Anyway let's hurry for encampment, can't wait to try my hard earned lunch"- and so, the 3 of them made way for the camp.</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) @DepressedSoviet This thing was a piece of junk, the Major thought trying to pick up anything. She groaned frustrated, turning the knobs here and there. Static was all she was getting at the moment, the occasional tidbit of radio chatter from the Yellows babbling in that incoherent language of theirs, but... Wait...what was this? Sheppard turned the knobs again. She had picked up on something that sounded like a battle in progress. She listened closely. That's when the chainsaw and that animalistic snarling caught her ear, along with the horrific dying screams of a Yellow getting his guts yanked out possibly. "Grrr! Someone get that damn brute back here ASAP!" The Major growlef slamming her fist down on the radio. She should've known Crazy was up to no good again. She threw down the headset, already switching over to her Lieutenant Major Bitchalot frequency as she began barking orders to the troops. @Bishop@ineffable "Alright maggots, listen up! Crazy's on the loose again, meaning we have to go get his ass!" "Do we have to?" A Red smarted off, getting him a bullet from...who else but the Major. Helena holstered her 1911 and resumed, despite the awkward silence that followed afterwards. "Hadrons, Greene, I want you two to tranq the son of a bitch from a faraway position. If you get too close, he's liable to shove that chainsaw up your assholes. The guy sleeps with it for Christ sake! Comm Officer David, I want you to keep scanning the chatter for Yellow frequencies! We need to pinpoint that dipshit's current location! And Steve, you....Where the fuck is Steve dammit?!"</s> <\|message\|>Kellie Hadrons @DriveEMOut Kellie listens to the commander's order uncomfortably. Her rifle is heavy in her hand and she places it down on the ground, resting it against her leg. She pushes her unruly black hair out of the vision of her gas mask and bites her lip under the mask. She looks at the guy, Greene and gives him a slight nod. She was probably only going to slow him down but after all if he got hurt she was still a medic. She gives an inaudible sigh and nods along with the commander's words. Too scared to interrupt when she asks where Travis is.</s> <\|message\|>Changes his name sporadically and he HATES IT when he's not called by his name. "Oh man, can't wait to tell everyone that Steve is back."- the energetic red said only to see that there was no Steve beside him, only his usual buddy. "Did you see Steve leave, I could swear to the rats that he was..OMG"-he suddenly interrupted his own speech-"IT WAS HIS GHOST! He just came back one last time to talk to us in order to find closure! Oh Steve.." "Who in their right mind, wait slash that, with a mind at all would come back just to talk to you?" "..."-suddenly he brought a fist upon his palm like just remembering something-"I just remembered, you still owe me lunch and GOD I'm hungry." "..." Steve on the other hand was hurriedly moving stealthily on all 4s. Going from tent to tent, staying out of sight as much as possible. Reason? Uhh... Anyway, as he was switching cover, he saw the duo that he just ditched some minutes ago. He had to hide, he couldn't be with them, if they found out what he had done... While all these thoughts raced on his mind, he was slowly crawling backward, unknowingly into the tent where the Lieutenant was currently at. Upon hearing his name get mentioned, he slowly turned his head to see that everyone was staring at him. Well it must've looked awkward seeing someone slowly crawl backwards into a tent. Quickly he got up, dusted himself off while replying:"Yes, yesss.. I'm Steve."</s> <\|message\|>David Jones "Yes, Major." David said, kneeling down to pick up his headset and slip it back under his helmet. Pressing the earpiece to his head, he continued to cycle through the frequencies, before finally finding one that the Yellows were using as a backup. Hearing frantic yelling, David recognized a voice repeating what he had memorized as sector names in the Yellows' language. Snapping his fingers and gesturing towards the group of Reds, he called out "Map! Someone get me a map, quick!" Someone rushed up to him and handed him a crumpled map. Unfolding it, David scanned over it before shooting a death glare at the man who gave it to him. "This is a map of KYRGYZSTAN you idiot! Where did you even get that?! Get me a map of the local area!" He balled the map up and threw it at the man's head, as someone handed him a more local map. Tracing a finger over the map, he shouted "I got it! They're at How Roger Three Three Four."</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) @DepressedSoviet@ineffable@DriveEMOut Upon seeing the idiot Steve wobble in on all fours, the Major slapped her palm to her face muttering to herself incoherently and angrily before resuming. But again she was cut off by the Comm Officer shouting that he had the location pinpointed. How Roger Three Three Four. "Well you heard the man! How Roger Three Three Four! Let's move out, Reds!" The Major was already ahead of them as she grabbed her Galil from the armory. Elsewhere, a bunch of Blues were gathered on the cliffside looking down over the vast, sandy valley. Two snipers stood watch while the rest were huddled around a makeshift campfire. "Ugh... I shouldn't have eaten those rats. Seven legs is too many." A Blue complained holding his stomach. The Blue beside him grumbled, "Quit your bitching. It was either that or starve. Besides, we lost all our rations when the Yellows attacked us at Point Bravo." "Yeah, the rations we stole from those dumbass Reds." A Blue added chuckling. The snipers continued scanning the valley down below. Suddenly, one of them shouted, "Yellows at our six! Twenty meters and closing!" "What?! Well shoot 'em, gunny!" "Umm..." The sniper stammered. "What?" The Blue peered over at the sniper looking closely. That's when he realized, "Uh...why are you holding a stick with a scope attached to it?" "Umm...because it shoots better...?" Said the sniper. The Blue folded his arms. "Ugh! Okay, fine! I lost my damn gun when we were climbing up here! Are you happy, asshole?!" "Hey, it looks like those Yellows are running away from something." Said the other sniper. "Looks like a Red with....is that a fucking chainsaw?!" "What?!" The lead Blue perked up. "Gimme that!" He yanked the rifle away and peered down the scope, dropping the gun in utter horror. "My god..... Gentlemen...it's been an honor fighting with you. It will be an even bigger honor when...guys? Guys?" As the leader turned around, the rest of the nlues were already hightailing it down the hill screaming in terror. "Oh god! OH GOD! NOT HIM! RUN!!!" "I want to live!! I WANT TO LIIIIIIVEEEE!!!" The leader blinked for a moment, then muttered, "....Shit..."</s>	<\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) Moments later, the Yellows hurtled past the lead Blue while yelling in a panicked manner in their language. Crazy wasn't far behind, as evidenced by the fact that he also ran past the lead Blue, who fortunately for him had the sense to know that trying to shoot Crazy in the back when he had completely ignored you was actually a much more slow and painful version of shooting yourself in the head. Crazy continued to follow the Yellows as they ran around a nearby building and started cheering moments later. Upon turning the corner, Crazy discovered that the Yellows were cheering because they had run into the backup the Yellows had called. This backup included 60 extra soldiers and a tank. Crazy proceeded to run into the building as the tank's turret began to aim at him. The tank fired upon the building and destroyed much of the 1st and 2nd floors. The Yellows began to cheer even more, but were silenced by Crazy jumping out of a 3rd floor window and colliding with the tank's machine gun operator, causing them both to fall into the tank. The sounds of the crew inside the tank being murdered by a rusty chainsaw could be heard for a moment before the screaming stopped and the tank's turret turned in the direction of the Yellows. The Yellows proceeded to scatter about the place as they attempted to escape the onslaught Crazy went on to unleash.</s>
<\|description\|>Jack Greene Age: 17 Appearance: Rank/Kill count: 45 Position: Sniper Weapons: A model 82A1</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) DAY 1 RED BASE CAMP FOXTROT 0800 hours Dirt...that's all she could see for miles and miles. Just dirt...and rubble. Lieutenant Major Helena Sheppard sat at the rickety wooden table beside her tent, field stripping and cleaning her 1911 before reassembling it with a sigh, somewhat muffled by the bulky respirator over her face. Eight months, four days, and twenty seven hours, that's how long her squad had been traveling through this god forsaken wasteland until they even made it to the base camp, and not to mention how long she had gone without any sleep. With the Yellows and the Blues giving them hell at every turn, it was difficult to get any shut eye, that and hearing her squadmates bitch and whine because one guy's gun was better or they didn't want to sleep...next to Crazy... Sheppard couldn't blame them for that though... With tired, bloodshot eyes, she looked through the smoky lenses of her respirator at the rotted wooden sign next to a couple of tents. Slapped dashed on it in white, chipping paint: -CAMP FOXTROT- Accident free for 12 days A gunshot suddenly rang out amidst the howling wind, followed by rancorous shouts of, "GOD DAMMIT! AHH MY FUCKING FOOT!! WHO THE FUCK DID....?! FRIENDLY FIRE, YOU GOD DAMN SON OF A BITCH!! OWWW!" The soldier standing post by the sign glanced over then scratched the "12" off the sign with a piece of chalk. Helena slammed her head against the table groaning. A seasoned veteran with a kill count to boot, a warrior who cut her teeth on the battlefield, and here she was..."babysitting." She groaned whacking her face against the table again and again. This was gonna be one hell of a day...</s> <\|message\|>Kellie Hadrons Kellie was kicking at the rubble, scattering clouds of dirt up into the air as she walked by the tents set up in Camp Foxtrot. Her M40 Rifle hung loosely in her hand, more for defense than attack. She had a bunch of first aid stuff packed away in the multiple pockets of her clothes and she was mentally taking storage of them when she came across someone banging her head against a table again and again. This seemed strange to Kellie and she walked a bit closer to the girl. "Hello...are you alright?" Her soft voice sounded out, she grips her rifle a bit more tighter and starts thinking all the possible things that could be wrong with this girl.</s> <\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) As the soldier who had been shot in the foot continued to yell about his predicament those who had gathered round to see what had just happened suddenly started staring at something behind the injured soldier. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ALL STARING AT?!" the injured soldier asked "CAN'T YOU SEE I NEED A MEDIC?!". "That's lucky then" 1 of the injured soldier's comrades said as they all began to back away fearfully "The medic is already here". "HE'S BEEN DRAWN BY THE SCENT OF BLOOD!" 1 of the other soldiers screamed as he began to run "EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!". With that said, all the uninjured soldiers scattered, leaving the injured soldier alone with the thing that was breathing heavily right behind him. 'Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy. Please don't let it be Crazy' the injured soldier thought over and over again as he slowly turned around. Super-General-Lieutenant-Captain-Sergeant-Commander Level 5 Crazy was standing before the injured soldier. He was holding a battered and bloody medical kit in his hands and had crudely chalked the medic symbol onto his helmet. Needless to say, the soldier was terrified. "You know what, I don't think I need medical attention after all" the soldier said as he limped backwards "No no, it's just a flesh wound is all. I'll just walk it of. Yes, that's all I need to do. No need to break out your kit for me, Super-General-Lieutenant-Captain-Sergeant-Commander Level 5". Crazy's simple reply was to advance on the soldier in a predatory manner and to begin breathing more heavily. In his haste to move back, the soldier tripped. "I don't need a medic, honest!" the soldier said as he dragged himself backwards in a desperate attempt at escaping Crazy's clutches. Crazy began breathing even more heavily as he reached into his medical kit and pulled out a rusty scalpel. "NO! STAY AWAY!" the soldier exclaimed "I DON'T NEED A MEDIC! I-I-IT'S J-JUST A FLESH WOUND! S-S-SOMEONE! A-ANYONE! HELP MEEEEEEEEE!".</s>	<\|message\|>Jack Greene Jack approached Crazy. "Back off, mate. I'll get a proper medic." He was the only one he knew of who wasn't utterly terrified of Crazy, and he often tried to rally the others, but it didn't work. "Why don't you check out the abandoned Yellow tank down the hill? I heard its functional, but only runs off Chainsaws." He doubted it would fool the insane soldier, but he was desperate to save the guy who had gotten shot in the foot.</s>
<\|description\|>David Jones Age: He's kinda lost track, 30 maybe? Appearance: On top of the usual helmet-gas mask combo, David has a radio headset with a microphone and earpiece, with a cord running to the large radio box on his back. EDIT: Made him to the best of my ability: Rank: Not very many kills, but he's the one with the radio, so he gives the orders from command, and people just kinda do them. He doesn't let anyone else use the radio for this reason. Position: Radio Operator Weapons: Semi-Automatic Rifle, a grenade or two, utility knife.</s> <\|message\|>Jack Greene Jack approached Crazy. "Back off, mate. I'll get a proper medic." He was the only one he knew of who wasn't utterly terrified of Crazy, and he often tried to rally the others, but it didn't work. "Why don't you check out the abandoned Yellow tank down the hill? I heard its functional, but only runs off Chainsaws." He doubted it would fool the insane soldier, but he was desperate to save the guy who had gotten shot in the foot.</s> <\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) "Back off, mate. I'll get a proper medic" Upon hearing this, Crazy turned to Jack and growled threateningly. "Why don't you check out the abandoned Yellow tank down the hill?" Jack added "I heard its functional, but only runs off Chainsaws". Upon hearing this, Crazy dropped his medkit, pulled a piece of chalk out of his pocket, rubbed the medic symbol off his helmet, replaced it with the tank driver symbol, and ran off down the hill in search of the tank with a rusty chainsaw in hand.</s> <\|message\|>David Jones David sat cross-legged on the dirt ground, his radio resting in his lap, one hand pressing the earpiece against his head, the other fiddling with the various dials and switches. When the gunshot rang out, David reflexively reached for his rifle, but after hearing the following shouts, he realized it was a false alarm, and turned the volume nob up on the radio, returning to searching the frequencies. It had been a while since the last batch of orders had come in, and David was fairly sure people were starting to catch on that what he was telling them to do HADN'T come from command. As he cycled through the frequencies, most of what he heard was static, but a few of the frequencies provided chatter. The first was some kind of repeat emergency broadcast that he was fairly certain was worthless by now. From there, he found one station broadcasting a series of messages in the Yellow's crazy language. On the last working station he checked, he found battle chatter, though he could not tell if it was from Reds or Blues. Sighing in frustration, he popped open the hatch of the cassette player he had jury-rigged to run off of the radio, and popped in an old song he found. Drumming his fingers on the top of the radio box along to the beat, he glanced around him, trying to stay somewhat aware.</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) @DriveEMOut@rush99999@DepressedSoviet "Hello...are you alright?" The LT looked up at the girly voice coming from the soldier in front of her, a more proper medic emblem on her helmet than that of...well...Crazy... As she glanced up, one of her lenses cracked, the table beside her crumbled to pieces. Helena merely sighed indifferent standing to her feet, "At ease, Corporal. I'm alright. There's been another...accident...over at the firing range. If you would, go patch that soldier up before he gets his leg chewed off by Crazy. I need to speak with our comm officer David." She could hear the frightened laments of the troops nearby, shaking her head with an irtitated sigh, even moreso when that wild beast came bounding past her with that...that fucking chainsaw. Why hadn't Private Higgins kept that berserker on a leash like he was supposed to? Helena made her way past the gun range and down the sandy slope, where sat David....what the hell was he doing? The LT just stood there behind the comm officer for a moment, annoyed by the second by that crappy 80s synth pop, not making her presence known until she reached down and flipped the radio off. "Any word from Command yet?" She said glaring down at him with an expectant pause. And they wonder why the Yellows are always better than them.</s> <\|message\|>David Jones David jumped a bit when the Major flipped off the radio, starting to speak in protest, but deciding it better if he just answered her question. "None so far, Major. 200 frequencies, and all but three of them are static. You're welcome to listen in, but I doubt you'll find anything new." With that, he flipped the radio back on, tuned it to the third of the frequencies he'd found with a working broadcast, as that one seemed the most usable, and slid the headset off from under his helmet, handing it to Helena as he stood. Sliding the pack onto his back, he turned so that the controls faced the Major, waiting for a confirmation of what he'd found.</s> <\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) As David offered the controls to the Major, 2 soldiers ran past carrying Private Higgins on a stretcher as he convulsed uncontrollably. "His true form is beyond our comprehension!" the Private rambled "Wolf for head! Snake for legs! Anteater for arms! HIPPOPOTAMUS FOR TORSO! BELIEVE ME! BELIEVE MEEEEEEeeeee eeeee- ". Private Higgins was carried out of earshot before he could finish his long 'me'.</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) @DepressedSoviet Before the Major got down to messing with the controls on the radio, she watched the two soldiers with the stretcher zip by. Higgins, well...he was totally FUBAR. "Son of a bitch..." The Major muttered shaking her head. "Don't tell me they were serving those glowing rats again in the mess hall." She sighed fiddling with the dials, mostly getting nothing but static.</s> <\|message\|>Crazy (We don't know his real name. He hasn't told anyone because he doesn't speak. He just makes noises that are oddly similar to a hunter from the Left 4 Dead games.) If the Major was to tune into the Yellow's radio channel now, she would judge that from the sounds of things, Crazy had run into them in his search for blood and violence and was now hacking them to pieces with his chainsaw and the occasional commandeered firearm. The radio operator's panicked voice that was most likely requesting backup was periodically interspersed with screaming and Crazy's hunter noises. Eventually, the radio operator began screaming too as he was attacked and murdered by Crazy, who also destroyed the Yellow radio in the process and left the Major with only 2 frequencies that weren't static.</s> <\|message\|>Changes his name sporadically and he HATES IT when he's not called by his name. Travis wandered the waste lands alone, a necklace of rat heads on his neck as he alternated between moving on all 4s and on 2 legs. A picture of a skull was drawn in his helmet, seemingly with dried blood. "I am the hunter.."-he muttered in a deep ragged voice as he moved surprisingly quickly on all 4s thinking himself to be one of those ancient hunting jungle tribes but, in reality he looked more like Gollum from Lord of the Rings. "I am the predator.."- he continued his monologue but was interrupted upon hearing noises coming from the other side of a tall ruined building. "And you will be my prey!"- as he was making to enter the building for a better vantage point, a voice came from behind him. "Hey there! Hey you, can you hear me?"- a fellow red called to him. As Steve turned back to see, knifes in hand ready for action, he spotted 2 fellow reds seemingly returning to their camp from a mission. "Oy mate, IT'S STEVE! STEVE IS ALIVE! WHAT DID I TELL YOU!? You owe me 2 weeks worth of lunch." "Yeah, yeah, whatever.." They knew his name? He just changed it to Steve 5 seco...of course they knew his name, how couldn't they? As they approached him, he quickly rose on 2 feet, threw the head necklace aside..and the teeth bracelet..and the tail belt, changing his voice into a more normal one. "Hey, how are you?"-he said to the 2 unknown reds who had mistaken him for their friend..which had confused him into thinking they were also his friends. "I was just about to ente.."-he started but was interrupted by one of the reds. "Same as us, we just came back from a mission, heading for home camp right now."- as he got closer he continued-"Say, is that blood on your forehead?" Shit, he forgot to wipe that out.-"The blood of a yellow."- quickly answered. "I don't think blood stains from a dying victim are supposed to take the shape of a skull"- the red later added while at the same time Steve was drawing out a knife. He couldn't let them learn of the deranged shit he did while away.. "The yellow, was a known artist." "See mate? Another proof that yellows are better than reds at everything. Even in death he was a better painter than any of us." "I don't think that's how it wo.." "Anyway let's hurry for encampment, can't wait to try my hard earned lunch"- and so, the 3 of them made way for the camp.</s> <\|message\|>Helena Sheppard (most of the guys don't know I'm a chick) @DepressedSoviet This thing was a piece of junk, the Major thought trying to pick up anything. She groaned frustrated, turning the knobs here and there. Static was all she was getting at the moment, the occasional tidbit of radio chatter from the Yellows babbling in that incoherent language of theirs, but... Wait...what was this? Sheppard turned the knobs again. She had picked up on something that sounded like a battle in progress. She listened closely. That's when the chainsaw and that animalistic snarling caught her ear, along with the horrific dying screams of a Yellow getting his guts yanked out possibly. "Grrr! Someone get that damn brute back here ASAP!" The Major growlef slamming her fist down on the radio. She should've known Crazy was up to no good again. She threw down the headset, already switching over to her Lieutenant Major Bitchalot frequency as she began barking orders to the troops. @Bishop@ineffable "Alright maggots, listen up! Crazy's on the loose again, meaning we have to go get his ass!" "Do we have to?" A Red smarted off, getting him a bullet from...who else but the Major. Helena holstered her 1911 and resumed, despite the awkward silence that followed afterwards. "Hadrons, Greene, I want you two to tranq the son of a bitch from a faraway position. If you get too close, he's liable to shove that chainsaw up your assholes. The guy sleeps with it for Christ sake! Comm Officer David, I want you to keep scanning the chatter for Yellow frequencies! We need to pinpoint that dipshit's current location! And Steve, you....Where the fuck is Steve dammit?!"</s> <\|message\|>Kellie Hadrons @DriveEMOut Kellie listens to the commander's order uncomfortably. Her rifle is heavy in her hand and she places it down on the ground, resting it against her leg. She pushes her unruly black hair out of the vision of her gas mask and bites her lip under the mask. She looks at the guy, Greene and gives him a slight nod. She was probably only going to slow him down but after all if he got hurt she was still a medic. She gives an inaudible sigh and nods along with the commander's words. Too scared to interrupt when she asks where Travis is.</s> <\|message\|>Changes his name sporadically and he HATES IT when he's not called by his name. "Oh man, can't wait to tell everyone that Steve is back."- the energetic red said only to see that there was no Steve beside him, only his usual buddy. "Did you see Steve leave, I could swear to the rats that he was..OMG"-he suddenly interrupted his own speech-"IT WAS HIS GHOST! He just came back one last time to talk to us in order to find closure! Oh Steve.." "Who in their right mind, wait slash that, with a mind at all would come back just to talk to you?" "..."-suddenly he brought a fist upon his palm like just remembering something-"I just remembered, you still owe me lunch and GOD I'm hungry." "..." Steve on the other hand was hurriedly moving stealthily on all 4s. Going from tent to tent, staying out of sight as much as possible. Reason? Uhh... Anyway, as he was switching cover, he saw the duo that he just ditched some minutes ago. He had to hide, he couldn't be with them, if they found out what he had done... While all these thoughts raced on his mind, he was slowly crawling backward, unknowingly into the tent where the Lieutenant was currently at. Upon hearing his name get mentioned, he slowly turned his head to see that everyone was staring at him. Well it must've looked awkward seeing someone slowly crawl backwards into a tent. Quickly he got up, dusted himself off while replying:"Yes, yesss.. I'm Steve."</s>	<\|message\|>David Jones "Yes, Major." David said, kneeling down to pick up his headset and slip it back under his helmet. Pressing the earpiece to his head, he continued to cycle through the frequencies, before finally finding one that the Yellows were using as a backup. Hearing frantic yelling, David recognized a voice repeating what he had memorized as sector names in the Yellows' language. Snapping his fingers and gesturing towards the group of Reds, he called out "Map! Someone get me a map, quick!" Someone rushed up to him and handed him a crumpled map. Unfolding it, David scanned over it before shooting a death glare at the man who gave it to him. "This is a map of KYRGYZSTAN you idiot! Where did you even get that?! Get me a map of the local area!" He balled the map up and threw it at the man's head, as someone handed him a more local map. Tracing a finger over the map, he shouted "I got it! They're at How Roger Three Three Four."</s>
<\|description\|>Shiba The Second Wave Gender: Male Appearance: Shiba has a cross shaped scar over where his heart should be even though he was not mortally wounded in this life it appeared as a birth mark. With his overall appearance being typical of a regular goblin with green skin and his eyes were bright green like emeralds. Personality: Shiba is a smart goblin that often looks into the why instead of the how. He is always pondering why something is the way it is instead of how it works in the first palace he would be considered a ponder and an explorer in some way. Shiba is always trying to learn and understand things and he is a kind person happy to have others by his side and he is fiercely loyal to those he calls family. He does not seek to be a leader nor would he want it he simply seeks to learn of the world. Past Life History: Shiba was once a poet in his past life and he was a world renowned poet to match he had always gone around the world seeing new sights and finding the way to express his feelings in the most profound way as to make others weep in joy or sadness from whatever sight he saw be it a warzone or a hidden waterfall. Sadly it was his world seeking job that brought him to death because on his way to his newest destination his hotel was taken hostage by terrorists and because he was a well known artist he was the first to go when they didn't bring any money for his release. Birth Skill: The Rare ability that Shiba has is called Serenity unlike most beings in this life Shiba can easily calm his mind and the minds of others which if used in combat can keep animals from outright attacking him. Acquired skill: Sooth: Shiba has learned how to read people and animals and can calm their angry hearts though this is detrimental in terms of hunting it can nonetheless keep him from getting killed. Possession: Magic Theory book Other: Seems redundant but still I am a Mighty Goblin Following this goblin their are 4 brave souls that survived= * Yan-Took * Tsuku * Kalista * Idus</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Day 4: A Matter of Bones, settled Grasping tightly Fist Fang against his knuckles, Zectoll's mind was flooded with information. Deadly strikes, agile maneuvers, and impenetrable defense stances came rushing into his consciousness like a raging river. It was a sensation like no other he had experienced. The knowledge was filling him to fast, it was more than his mind could hold onto. It was if his mind was coming up with ideas rapidly, only to forget them moments later.He tried desperately to absorb the flowing torrent of techniques, but soon the flow faded, and he was left with but a small portion of instruction. What had caused this, Zectoll could not tell. Perhaps it was due to some natural knack he had in regards to unarmed combat, or perhaps it was some type of otherworldly phenomenon. Either way, Zectoll was excited to be making progress. Satisfied with his training session, Zectoll gathered up the remaining wolf bones, and his spear and headed over to where Kishi was residing. Kishi was conversing with two other goblins, unfamiliar to Zectoll. Zectoll peered at the peculiarly bright colored goblin, and the female goblin standing with him. It seemed that they had settled whatever it was the three were talking about. Zectoll brought the wolf bones and the spear over to the section of cavern wall that Kishi was standing at. Here are the wolf bones. I have taken what I need, you can have the rest Zectoll placed the bones down neatly, into a pile. The shorter goblin looked at the spear Kishi had given him. It was a good weapon, it's reach allowing a goblin to have an advantage over the physical prowess of the beasts of the forest. For a moment Zectoll doubted himself, thinking that he should hold onto the spear, and its long reach. He quickly put such thoughts out of his mind. The loss of reach would force him to become stronger and faster to compensate, or die trying.Also, here is your spear. I will no longer be needing it. I will be relying on this alpha horn, and my fist fangs from now on. @Duthguy [@Luz]</s> <\|message\|>Luz Luz @Jangel13@Duthguy@El Noche As soon as Luz heard that she made an audible sigh. Today she was planning on actually hunting animals but it seems fate had other plans for her. She sat down on the ground bored wondering what she was going to do today. She saw Zectoll make his fang fist out of bone and fur strips, then she took note of her stabbing stick was was basically a stick with it end shaped by a rock, it decided it that her stick was better than nothing but there was still better to be gained. She so when to that tool making goblin for advice. Steg seem to know him so maybe he would help her out. Luz then when to the group. "Excuse me...can you guys give me tips on how to make one of those..spears." She asked them nicely.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs Stegs --- While he was impressed with Kishi's ideas Stegs felt he missed an obvious one. Couldn't they also be used to improve armor? I know the petals aren't very strong but I doubt most animals would like getting hurt by the barbs when attacking." When Kishi mentioned needing proper adhesive Stegs couldn't help but silently agree with him. He was just about to ask if the other goblin wanted to help collecting the petals since he believed the flower was too large for two goblins to carry, when Kishi mentioned his own plans. He honestly was a bit disappointed but he understood the attraction of personal projects and was just about to look for other helpers when Luz approached the two of them. Apparently she wanted to know how to make spears. Since Stegs was curious himself he decided to stick around in case Kishi was gonna explain the progress. @demonspade64@Duoya</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Before Kishi had begun to carve into the wall, Stegs had announced his own idea for the use of the petals in his possession. While the idea of adhering them to armor was unique and seemed productive, Kishi spotted some problems with the idea that would put it's effectiveness lower than it's cost. "That's a good idea, Brother Stegs, but I doubt it would be as easy as you make it out to be. To start with, you would need some type of armor in the first place, and leather is harder to obtain then it appears. Additionally, you would need a large number of the petals for them to be of any use, and placing them on the armor would be time consuming and quite tedious. Also, a beast that attacks with claws and horns would be less effected from armor than they would by simply bashing into their sides with a buckler. Finally, as seems to be a problem with a majority of the creations I have in mind, we would need large amounts of adhesive to hold the petals to the armor." Kishi took a large breath after finishing his long-winded rant, before turning back to his schematics. He had begun to make decent progress, before his mind was returned to the wolf skin that was in his corner. The topic of armor had made him realize that it was easily possible to turn the skin into a type of leather armor... If it wasn't raining. Kishi silently cursed the gods, before having another epiphany: The gods were clearly real, if Grandfather's speeches and Lomen's murmured prayers were anything to go off of... But that would mean they were perfectly fine with watching the goblins struggle to survive and die. They did nothing to prevent Isurta's and Xaal's deaths... This grim line of thought was broken with the arrival of Zectoll, bearing a strange new weapon. It was kind of Zectoll to gift Kishi with the bones, but Kishi grew slightly worried for his brother. Would a weapon with such small reach really assist in combat? Kishi would have felt much less anxious for his brother if he chose to keep the spear... But Kishi took the spear back anyways. Their was no point in worrying for Zectoll. After all, it would only be a futile effort, and Kishi needed to retain as much energy as he could if he planned to build a pit trap the next day. After all, a semi-stable source of food was the most important part of keeping the goblins safe and happy. "Thank you Brother Zectoll, I hope my weapon has served you well. I am glad to see that you have created your own weapons! Maybe you'll take after me? Ha Ha Ha! But... Why did you name the weapon? It isn't really my place to ask, but a weapon is a tool, not something that is deserving of a name." After asking his question, Kishi once again returned to his planning, voicing out the rest of his concerns as he continued to sketch out his plans. Now, he was stuck with a very obsolete weapon... and almost on cue, the voice of a goblin known as Lux spoke to Kishi. His reputation was far larger than he had anticipated... Kishi spoke out, responding to the young goblin. "My spears are very basic, and are far from my proudest work. To be completely honest, their current design is a mess... If only I had an adhesive... Oh, but if you want one, I have one that has been recently returned." As he began to hand Zectoll's spear to the young goblin, a thought echoed throughout Kishi's mind, and he yelled to the rest of the cave's inhabitants. "If anyone needs anything made, come to goblin Kishi!" Satisfied with this, Kishi continued his sketching, having just finished a basic outline of the moat and it's structure and moving onto a map of the cavern's insides. Being sure to mark specific landmarks (Such as "Kishi's Korner", "Grandpa's Grove", and the "Goblin Graveyard"), Kishi continued to mark out the all of the cavern's insides that he had explored, before moving onto the basic areas he had explored outside of the cave. All the while, Kishi planned how to tan the wolf's hide, creating a leather for Kishi to use however he saw fit. @demonspade64@El Noche@Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - Noche --- The pouring rain outside made Skubli hesitant to go near the entrance to the cave, however he ventured out to it anyways to avoid speaking with his brethren. The water was stark and cold, splashing on the little goblin's feet as he approached the entrance of the cave. Thunder clapped and spooked him into a cowering position, however once Skubli realized there was no immediate danger, he scurried forwards a little bit to examine the falling water. Further investigation led to the discovery that the mantle Skubli wore was waterproof, repelling the liquid with great ease. Content with his discovery, Skubli hobbled back inside the cave, grunting quietly at the few goblins he passed as he made his way towards the back of the cave. Skubli had only been to the back end of the cave when he was a newborn or when he had been collapsing from exhaustion; exploring it had not been something he had done yet, and with no other alternatives, now was the perfect time. Darkness nearly encompassed the entirety of the cave's back end, however Skubli's keen eyes provided vision in the shadows. For the most part, it led to narrow dead ends and closed walls, leaving the goblin dissatisfied. Just before Skubli gave up, a small crevice led to a closed off, hidden alcove large enough to make a comfortable space for a goblin as small as Skubli. Thrilled by the new discovery, Skubli sniffed out the new space, ensuring it was completely safe before pulling a few items of food he had horded, a small, sharp rock acquired from his day out, and one of the fish scales from the luminescent fish. The runt quickly stored away the valuables and crawled into the alcove to continue to explore.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba 4 Winds The old man smiled at Kishi as he then asked about the creatures outside and if they were more dangerous then the common breed considering that he has met an alpha before. "Young one it would take time this old man doesn't have to tell you about all the creatures outside this cave. Though I will say this much the farther you are from the cave the more dangerous beasts you will end up finding out their. Their many beasts that can kill you without any effort. I will tell you about one being though back when I was younger I did come across a dangerous black skeleton it was walking and had armor as black as its bone as if it was burnt. Lucky for us that being lives only graveyards" he said with a shrug thinking that was something to give the young one at least. --- @Duoya@Duthguy -summary- The goblins that were together were soon talking about what would be created in the future the goblin Kishi took his role as the cave crafter in a brighter light taking the title affectionately. The goblin Kishi was quickly making ideas to better shore up the caves defenses with his plans he would soon be able to create a much better defensible cave. The goblins Luz and Stegs were getting equipment and ideas on how to best use the flower petals that they found the day before. --- Noche -summary- The goblin known as Zectoll was soon giving away his spear to goblin Kishi now less dependent on a spear he had crafted a pair of fist fangs as he called them. He was also given basic knowledge into bare knuckle fighting techniques and was now looking for something to do. --- The exploring goblin- As the previously incapacitated Skubli came back to his sense he went out and looked at the rain making sure to learn that it was not harming him. He then went to the back of the cave and started digging. He soon found his own special place just for himself and he stored what little valuables he had in the alcove then he continued to dig. As he kept digging he soon landed himself in front of another small clearing however this time at the far wall of the clearing was a strange rock formation it was skewed in different directions but what was most interesting was the color of the rocks in the formation it looked a dark grey color and was much to strong for the goblin to even attempt to chip at it with a sharpened rock. What the goblin didn't know was that he found something truly incredible.....the goblin found steel... Goblin Skubli learned Excavation the goblin has learned how to dig in rock caves and as such can now find the weak points in rocks allowing him to dig with greater ease.</s>	<\|message\|>Shiba God damn Server error! Ignore this</s>
<\|description\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] Gender: Male Appearance: Standing at the standard goblin height of 4'2", Xaal doesn't look much different than others of his race. Short stature, dark-green skin, and shrewd, sharp eyes of the crimson variety. His physique is lean and sinewy, seemingly made for speed and agility rather than brute force. A scar, red and angry, crosses over his heart like an 'X' - a memento that has been with him since birth. Personality: Unlike the stereotypes surrounding his kind, Xaal is neither dull nor stupid. Rather, he was born with a cunning and quick-witted mind. Even since birth, he has shown to be easily-adaptable to many situations, be they tense or mundane. This efficiency, combined with his cunning, alienates him from some of his Goblin brethren, as he doesn't see the world in the same way as them. Although he could come off as distant or cold because of this fact, Xaal isn't inherently 'bad' or 'antagonistic'. Rather, he takes problems as they come, and deals with them accordingly - acting mercifully or ruthlessly depending on the situation at hand. His cool, blunt, and straightforward nature makes him a good leader in the eyes of some, and he doesn't hide or run away from problems or issues. Despite this, he has kindness and generosity in his body, and can act honorably when he wants to. Xaal has an innate sense of adventure, and he is naturally quite inquisitive, which explains why he adventures out to hunt more than most goblins in his 'family'. Past Life History: Xaal, or Jason, as he was in a past life, was something of a...'Hitman', or 'Mercenary'. After an accident in his past that ended with his family shunning him, Jason got caught up in a...less than stellar lifestyle. Money became the only thing he honestly cared about, to fill the void in his otherwise empty life. Contracts, be it on innocents or criminals, became the norm, and he never really got over his past. Not every story has a happy ending. His happened to end with a knife to the throat. Skill: Xaal has a sharp mind, and even sharper reflexes. Other: I am a mighty goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - --- Vanishing umbrage. The crimson shadows pulsated around the small consciousness, warping and surrounding the primal mind before receding back to a safe distance. The deep red veil continuously wove themselves around the tiny mind before them, overpowering any thought that attempted to enter the mind they tormented. An archaic chorus of dark, powerful voices permeated the shadows as the small creature slowly blended into the oblivion. This was the way it will be. This is the way it was. This is the way it is. Crimson shades and deep crescendos carried on for eternity. A shudder traversed the darkness as the deep echoes became piercing screams. The shadows swelled and burst with an insurmountable amount of chaos as a single voice penetrated the oblivion. "Come little ones. Time to wake." It could hear. The miniscule consciousness shuddered as the elder voice pierced the crimson veil of shade. The ancient consciousness was not undying, such as the shadows were, but was instead ancient. It had aged throughout time and spoke with the weight of the experiences it had endured. The tiny consciousness followed the voice into the darkness, slowly drifting behind the ancient one. The voice had given the creature a clarity of existence. Goblin. "...goob?" As a second voice spoke, the creature became aware of the cold stone beneath its back, of the sharp claws it possessed as they dug into its skin. It could feel. A vile taste entered the goblin's mind as his mouth processed the putrid combination of saliva and dust. Ever so slowly, the consciousness began to emerge. He could taste. "...gobble." With the arrival of the third voice came the dull, musty scent of the cave the small goblin presided in. He was unsure of how he knew this concept, but it was certainly present within his mind. He could smell. As the presence of the others' physical bodies came into his senses, the tiny creature gained his final sense of sight. He could see. With all five senses complete, he was now a sentient being. Skubli was.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs Even though he was now floating in the darkness he could remember light, a strange pain in his chest and the word gardener, nothing else though not even what gardener meant. While the darkness seemingly took the pain away it was boring and he wished he could leave it behind. An eternity or maybe ten seconds later, he had no definition of time, he realized his body was laying on something hard and cold. "...goob?" It was a strange sound but he somehow knew it came from some other being that was pretty close to him even though he could not see it. "...gobble." Another one of these strange sounds, he became curious as to where they came from. "Gum". A third sound, by now he had become determined to see where the sounds came from. As soon as the word "see" popped up in his mind he instinctively opened his eyes. At first he was blinded by the light but slowly his eyes adapted. Eventually he saw several small green skinned creatures which he immediately identified as Goblins, but what was he, a "gardener", doing in a group of Goblins? No that wasn't right he was a Goblin too, all of a sudden he was sure of that as sure as he was that he liked the color green. Wondering if he was green as well he checked his body out. Not only was he green but a very nice light green, other than that he looked pretty much the same as the other Goblins who he now realized were the source of the sounds. Maybe if he could make "Gardener" into a sound he would know what it meant. "Grdnor." Well that was a total failure, it not only didn't make him remember anything, it didn't even sound like what he was trying to say. Wait, that was it the sounds were words that the other Goblins "said".</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Hunger. A burning, all-encompassing hunger consumed him. Darkness surrounded him, rendering his senses useless. Where was he? Who was he? It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is getting rid of this hunger. It consumed every atom of his being, greedily trying to sate itself. But slowly, it began to be replaced by the cold and numb blanket of darkness. This isn't so bad... he thought to himself. Every part of his being faded away into nothing, abandoning his physical shell. But then, a light destroyed the comforting dark. And the hunger returned. ... He opened his eyes to see a massive creature, easily 5 times his height. His mind raced, looking for a way to esape this monolithic monstrosity, before he suddenly calmed, his mind being eased by the creature's appearance. Wrinkles covered nearly every inch of skin, very little of which was covered by a small strip of cloth that circled the creature's waist. A large beard of white hair also alluded to this creature's age. As he observed the creature, a word came to the forefront of his mind. Goblin A strange word. A foreign, alien one. One you wouldn't want to be in the same room with. But it also felt... right. It fit like a glove in his mind, latching on like a parasite. He attempted to move his body to rid himself of the word. Green A small slab of meat, light green and weak, was held out in front of him. Arm... This is my arm... The old goblin smiled down at him. "Come little ones. Time to wake." Somehow... He could understand the old goblin's words. He had never heard these strange mutterings... He didn't even know what that strange flesh hole was called- Mouth Once again, his mind echoed back a wordfor the old goblin. The elderly goblin dropped a small object next to him. Soon, darkness surrounded him, blinding him... But it didn't deaf him. Words, far more garbled than the old goblin's, filled the dark space. As these words reached his ears, his see places-eyes began to adjust. The words were coming from several small green beings. He look at the object that the old goblin gave him. A small, blue rock, perfectly featureless and round sat beside him. This time, the word that his mind supplied slipped out of his mouth and into the dark cave. "Mwine..." His mind turned in mechanical rhythm, generating countless words as he looked all around.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba The Goblin Grandpa watched as each of the children started to wake up and some even went on trying to speak when they just woke. He had to admit he has been around to see a few generations and he had to admit that he knew this batch of younglings had some real potential. The Grandpa had done it regularly always waking the young ones a day after they are born. He knew that Humans could grow up much slower because they didn't have to worry about war but goblins like them were born weak and were easy to kill and as a result he knew that they wouldn't take long to grow up till they were strong enough to walk and talk properly. Grandpa stroked his beard and soon he spent the next 3 days feeding them as they quickly grew up. On their first day they were able to crawl and sit up properly. Grandpa had some food in their storage so that he could feed them and make sure they didn't starve because he was by no means strong enough to hunt anymore at best he was a care giver to the young ones and could give them advice as they grow up. On their second day they were able to walk for short distances and were finally able to speak a few words with clarity. This was when Grandpa taught told them about what was waiting for them once they were strong enough to stand on their own because he couldn't feed those that didn't hunt he gave each one their names and he told them that they were to just call him grandpa. He fed them each once more but was able to just give them bowls and let them go to town. --- The third and final day was when they were finally ready to strike out on their own. Grandpa waited by the cave for each of them to wake up on their own and once they all got up and came over to the entrance of the cave grandpa then said "Alright little ones, you have finally gotten big enough to hunt on your own. From here on out no more hand outs you live and die by your own choices. If you want some advice though that's free, their are some horned rabbits not far from the cave be careful" Those were the last words Goblin Grandpa told them before he sat down by the entrance of the cave watching them. He had to admit that the entrance of the cave was like the entrance to their adulthood for them to be treated with respected. Of course it was understandable if they were scared but they weren't going to get any food from him anymore they needed to learn how to hunt and he couldn't show them how. It was survival of the fittest in this world and if they cant hunt for their own food then they didn't deserve to be a part of their tribe...</s>	<\|message\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] X a a l --- Over the past few days, hundreds of thoughts had flown through his brain. The main thought process, however, centered around one thing - Goblins grew at a very fast pace. In mere days, his mind had grown from that of a toddler's into what it was now - a centerpiece of willpower, focus, and planning. Within the first day of his birthing, he had spent the majority of his time observing. Eating, observing, and thinking. The first few hours were tough, as he could not even say 'Goblin' without a lisp or a major butchering. But, as hours waned, and darkness bloomed, and he ate, thoughts began to surface - some hypothetical, some practical, and some rhetorical. Who was he, exactly? Why did he feel so...out of place amongst the other green-skinned baby goblins? Why was he so damn hungry all the time? Another instinctive word...'damn'. It was around this time, where he awoke on the second day, that he realized something. He could actually stand up and move. His first foray into 'walking' was a bit...shaky. He had watched the Old Goblin waddle around, hunched over and leaning on a wooden club, but that didn't feel right. So, he had straightened his back, and began to move at a faster pace, a fair distance away from the viciously eating group of Goblin kids he had been born alongside. Sadly, walking took a lot of energy, and within minutes he had collapsed on his butt, a scowl marring his lips once he realized that he reached his walking limit for the moment. It was around this time, that the Old Goblin began speaking in his worn voice. The Old Goblin told them that soon, they would have to hunt on their own, and kill for their own food. The Old Goblin told them of the monsters and dangers that laid outside of the cave, and how they would have to fight to survive - nothing was given. They had to rely on themselves, and their own grit. It was that minute, as he sat there grasping his legs, that the young Goblin decided that he would do better than survive. He would survive, and thrive. Let the dangers come...he'd take them all on. The newly dubbed 'Grandpa' gave them each their names, and the young goblin felt a smile - or was it a smirk? - form on his face. He was Xaal, and he'd show 'em all. And now, at this moment in time, he was about to go out on his own Hunt. The young Goblin had grown since the second day, now standing at a respectable height of 4'2". His eyes, a shockingly vivid crimson, were sharp and shrewd, even as he calmly looked around the forest ahead of them. A long shard of rock, scraped endlessly against the cave's wall to end in a durable and sharp point, was gripped in his right fist, sending a rush of confidence into Xaal's dark green body. He was ready - and, he was rather hungry. He gave a quick glance over his Goblin brethren, all of them the same age as he...three days. Xaal hadn't spoken to any of 'em, other than a few words. Too preoccupied with eating and thinking, he guessed. But now...maybe they should stick together for the hunt? Screw it. "Thanks, Grandpa." He hadn't spoken much since his birth, so his voice was rather rough as he took a step out of the cave, and into the blinding sunlight. Xaal would be the first to cross that barrier. Without a look back, he made his way into the underbrush. If any of his brethren wanted to come with him, they were free to do so. He really just wanted to get some food at this point, and Horned Rabbits sounded very delicious at this point in time.</s>
<\|description\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] Gender: Male Appearance: Standing at the standard goblin height of 4'2", Xaal doesn't look much different than others of his race. Short stature, dark-green skin, and shrewd, sharp eyes of the crimson variety. His physique is lean and sinewy, seemingly made for speed and agility rather than brute force. A scar, red and angry, crosses over his heart like an 'X' - a memento that has been with him since birth. Personality: Unlike the stereotypes surrounding his kind, Xaal is neither dull nor stupid. Rather, he was born with a cunning and quick-witted mind. Even since birth, he has shown to be easily-adaptable to many situations, be they tense or mundane. This efficiency, combined with his cunning, alienates him from some of his Goblin brethren, as he doesn't see the world in the same way as them. Although he could come off as distant or cold because of this fact, Xaal isn't inherently 'bad' or 'antagonistic'. Rather, he takes problems as they come, and deals with them accordingly - acting mercifully or ruthlessly depending on the situation at hand. His cool, blunt, and straightforward nature makes him a good leader in the eyes of some, and he doesn't hide or run away from problems or issues. Despite this, he has kindness and generosity in his body, and can act honorably when he wants to. Xaal has an innate sense of adventure, and he is naturally quite inquisitive, which explains why he adventures out to hunt more than most goblins in his 'family'. Past Life History: Xaal, or Jason, as he was in a past life, was something of a...'Hitman', or 'Mercenary'. After an accident in his past that ended with his family shunning him, Jason got caught up in a...less than stellar lifestyle. Money became the only thing he honestly cared about, to fill the void in his otherwise empty life. Contracts, be it on innocents or criminals, became the norm, and he never really got over his past. Not every story has a happy ending. His happened to end with a knife to the throat. Skill: Xaal has a sharp mind, and even sharper reflexes. Other: I am a mighty goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs While the other Goblins mastered walking and talking he spent most of his free time trying to figure out what a gardener was. He instinctively made sure not to fall too much behind the others when it came to walking and talking, but his near constant quietness and stillness would no doubt give the illusion he was lazy. It was only at the end of the second day that he could walk more than five steps without hugging the cave wall. Stegs as he was recently named did talk to some of the others a bit, though that was more to imitate what words they could say than it was to get to know them. There was plenty of time for that after all. Mere seconds after he was finally able to say gardener, which when spoken out loud briefly made him envision things called plants and strange tools, Grandpa told them that the next day they had to provide for themselves. The young Goblin spent the rest of the day near the entrance of the cave imagining all the different plants he would see and then grow in the cave for food and to make it look nicer, until he eventually fell asleep. The next morning when he woke up he nearly ran outside, until he remembered about the dangers Grandpa had warned him about. so he waited and watched other goblins go first. Including a trio that brought weapons along. After some deliberation he decided to follow them and maybe team up, but he tripped on something as he headed towards the entrance. On closer inspection the "something" turned out to be another Goblin, one he had never seen before. "Sorry about that." Suddenly he got an idea a Goblin that was that good at not being seen might be a real help. "Wanna hunt together?"</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Ink Thank goodness! Kishi silently thanked the universe for being allowed to join the two other goblins. As he hands a spear to Sister Isurta, he realized just how crude and cumbersome it would be to use. The shaft was sharp and splintered and the head was haphazardly attached with a basic knot. Despite this, it had more range over fists, and even if it has horrible durability, the most expensive thing used to make it was time. He hands one of the three spears he made, hoping she wouldn't comment on the shoddy construction. "Thanks for the weapon Kish!" Sister Isurta seems thankful, at least. Kishi awkwardly hands the weqpon to her, not used to the spear's length and grip. He heard Brother Lothar make a remark about scouting the area first, and while Kishi would normally agree... He was not about to argue with the hunger. Kishi pretends to ignore Lothar as he walks out of the cave. Gripping his weapon tightly, he stumbles into the bright sunlight. The three of them traveled a few steps when Brother Xaal quickly fell to the ground. Kishi rushed to help him up, but he soon noticed that it was a crouch instead. When Sister Isurta did the same, Kishi attempted to copy the movement, falling silently on his behind. In a clearing barely out of view from the cave's mouth, a small furry creature with a massive horn protruding from it's skull was resting. Kishi licked his lips, not only for the anticipated meal, but also of the possibilities he saw with the horn. Kishi lightly poked the spear on the ground to test it's integrity and listened to the others. Brother Xall wanted a direct assault, while Sister Isurta wanted a distraction to assassinate the rabbit. Kishi was astonished with Brother Xaal's bravery. Never in his short life would he have thought about jumping in to his possible death so quickly. Sister Isurta, meanwhile, surprised him by demonstrating tactics and planning he wouldn't think of for days. Kishi, having never been hunting before, didn't have any idea which tactic should be employed, but he did see a compromise. "Brother Xaal and I could charge the beast when ready, leaving an opening for Sister Isurta to attack." Kishi was terrified of the rabbit, however... The promise of meat and the horn persuaded him into gambling his life with the rabbit. Kishi gripped his crude spear in anticipation.</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - --- A surprising force collided with Skubli's side, causing a small, panicked noise to escape his throat before he instinctively curled into a small ball, trying to disappear underneath his mantle. After a few seconds of silence, a voice apologized to Skubli. "Wanna hunt together?" The smaller goblin looked up at the figure standing over him. He was a typical Goblish creature, standing at average height and weight, however the one thing that drew Skubli's attention was his skin. The bright green hue of the newcomer's skin was remarkably distracting. Pausing for a moment, Skubli considered his options. The bigger goblin's skin drew attention away from Skubli, so that could be a possible way to avoid danger. Additionally, he was the first Goblin to speak to Skubli, and he was offering exactly what Skubli needed. [color=aba000]"Hunting with you good." Skubli croaked. /color] The lackluster grammar of Skubli's speech didn't go unnoticed by the tiny goblin, but he was proud he had managed a semi-complete sentence on his first try.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba Grandpa soon watched as the others were left behind. The two that were left were the odd ones of the group and he knew that those two could have a hard time surviving but that was because the scrawny one which he named Skubli was by no doubt the runt in the litter as their was always one after all. He had to wait for him to come out of his corner as he was fed enough to last so that he could go back into the corner and hide away. No question that he was sneaky but Grandpa also knew that sneaky wasn't the same as smart or strong. The other one though which he named Stegs was something of a mystery to Grandpa as he seemed to be lazy at first but he could sense it was a ploy. What he couldn't figure out is if he was a leader or a follower or if he had the brains to survive out in the world. He couldn't interfere though he couldn't coddle the young ones or they will never thrive. He laughed a bit when Stegs actually tripped over Skubli and soon he was left inside the cave waiting till nightfall when the young ones would soon return after all it gets much more dangerous at night out their. --- @Duthguy -on the hunt- As the two would set out together in a different direction from the trio before they would soon come across a horned rabbit drinking in a nearby stream where fish were sure to live... --- @Rune_Alchemist@Wasted Ink As they got hidden within the brush the rabbit poked its head up as it heard the rustling of leaves. It ran its paw over its long ear as if trying to see if it was just hearing things. When he saw no movement it hopped a few inches away to another brush and started eating the berries on it. The small clearing they found themselves in was perfect for hiding around the rabbit to ambush it however if they made any noise above the whisper the Rabbit will take it as a threat and either attack head on and skewer them or run off as quick as possible making them loose their first target. It was up to how they approached the rabbit that will determine a successful hunt...</s>	<\|message\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] X a a l --- "If one of you distract it for me, I could leap on it from behind." It wasn't a bad idea, and was rather similar to what he already had in mind. She was the fastest of the three, no doubt, and she had something a bit better than her fists to hunt with. The plan could work...but, once again, selfish thoughts fleeted through his mind. The horn, and the meat. The rabbit was too small for them to share three-way, and he knew that Isurta wasn't stupid - she'd want the horn, as well. It was sharp and a decent length. Something in the back of his mind told him that it was better than the pig-sticker he currently gripped in his hands. Maybe he should have went off on his own...then, he wouldn't be having these thoughts. "Brother Xaal and I could charge the beast when ready, leaving an opening for Sister Isurta to attack." He snapped out of his reveries, taking in the details of Kishi's words. That was the plan, then. Xaal was pleased that he managed to stay quiet, leaving the two to come up with the plan on their own. He could have said what was on his mind immediately, of course, but that would have made him the psuedo-leader of their little trio. Xaal wasn't so sure that he wanted that responsibility. That same little voice at the back of his head told him that family dying because of his actions wouldn't feel too good. He had never experienced grief before, and he had no intentions of doing so on his third day of being. The rabbit then chose the moment to move, it's long ears twitching as it moved towards a nearby bush of berries. A smirk pulled on Xaal's lips - the plan would work, considering the rabbit chose to show it's back to the bush. It was now directly across from their place in the clearing. If they managed to send it scurrying towards the bush, where Isurta was waiting, then maybe...if she was fast enough, she could run out and take it by surprise, although she would have to be mindful of the horn. His plan solidified, Xaal finally turned his eyes towards his siblings, his voice barely a whisper. "Isurta, stay hidden, but be fast. We will go around and lead it towards you, and you be ready to strike. It won't expect you here. Kishi, make sure it runs towards Isurta's bush. No...fear." His voice, nearly silent, and still rough from disuse, cracked a bit at the end, but Xaal ignored the soreness for now, giving Brother Kishi a nod. They'd put the plan into action now. His footsteps were quiet, Xaal hyper-aware of any sticks or leaves underneath his feet as he carefully moved around the rabbit, towards it's front. Kishi was big, for a goblin, and Xaal wasn't too bad himself. They could do this. With a subconscious twitch of his fingers, Xaal tore out of the bushes, eyes sharp and fierce as he leaped through the berries and towards the horned rabbit. The horn was even sharper up-close, but from the subconscious knowledge of prey, he knew that they ran first, and attacked later. Crimson eyes watched the horn religiously, even as Xaal made a lunge towards the rabbit, stabbing swiftly towards the soft flesh of the rabbit's neck. It would either have to die here, or make a swift 360 and run in the opposite direction. He would leave it no choice. If it attacked, then he would dodge. His reflexes and instincts were very sharp, if not sensitive. Kishi would, hopefully, be nearby, ready to make scary movements and corral the rabbit towards Isurta's waiting spot.</s>
<\|description\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] Gender: Male Appearance: Standing at the standard goblin height of 4'2", Xaal doesn't look much different than others of his race. Short stature, dark-green skin, and shrewd, sharp eyes of the crimson variety. His physique is lean and sinewy, seemingly made for speed and agility rather than brute force. A scar, red and angry, crosses over his heart like an 'X' - a memento that has been with him since birth. Personality: Unlike the stereotypes surrounding his kind, Xaal is neither dull nor stupid. Rather, he was born with a cunning and quick-witted mind. Even since birth, he has shown to be easily-adaptable to many situations, be they tense or mundane. This efficiency, combined with his cunning, alienates him from some of his Goblin brethren, as he doesn't see the world in the same way as them. Although he could come off as distant or cold because of this fact, Xaal isn't inherently 'bad' or 'antagonistic'. Rather, he takes problems as they come, and deals with them accordingly - acting mercifully or ruthlessly depending on the situation at hand. His cool, blunt, and straightforward nature makes him a good leader in the eyes of some, and he doesn't hide or run away from problems or issues. Despite this, he has kindness and generosity in his body, and can act honorably when he wants to. Xaal has an innate sense of adventure, and he is naturally quite inquisitive, which explains why he adventures out to hunt more than most goblins in his 'family'. Past Life History: Xaal, or Jason, as he was in a past life, was something of a...'Hitman', or 'Mercenary'. After an accident in his past that ended with his family shunning him, Jason got caught up in a...less than stellar lifestyle. Money became the only thing he honestly cared about, to fill the void in his otherwise empty life. Contracts, be it on innocents or criminals, became the norm, and he never really got over his past. Not every story has a happy ending. His happened to end with a knife to the throat. Skill: Xaal has a sharp mind, and even sharper reflexes. Other: I am a mighty goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba @Duthguy@December -on the hunt: The final blow- The Rabbit was to distracted trying to kill the goblin that was already wounded by its horn. It thought it would be able to kill a wounded goblin then get away free unfortunately it didn't notice the other goblin with it until it was to late. It soon felt the claws of the goblin dig into its leg effectively crippling its ability to run away. It didn't want to die yet as it made one last leap getting past the goblin but sadly its luck was no good as it came up to a third and final goblin. It couldn't run anymore and couldn't defend itself as it was bleeding profusely from its torn tendon. The goblin then bashed his head and the Rabbit laid their slain ready to be picked apart by the 3 goblins. The goblins Lothar, Stegs, Skubli each gain 3XP</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - @Heyitsjiwon --- Skubli scurried backwards away from the Horned Rabbit as the beast fell to the final blow. The newcomer among them hadn't been noticed by the little goblin and had taken Skubli greatly by surprise. Holding his bloody claw away from his body, Skubli warily eyed the goblin who had landed the killing strike. The Rabbit lay dead on the ground, ready to be harvested, but despite Skubli's hunger, he pulled away from it and towards Stegs, seeking comfort in the familiar goblin. After a moment, he noticed the blood pouring out of Stegs' arm and remembered the wound he had suffered. "Stegs bleeding. That's not good. You okay?" His language was still broken, but the runt managed to convey his question with little room for misunderstanding. As he slowly peered over Stegs' arm, Skulbi kept an eye out for the new goblin to see if he would examine Stegs or simply begin reaping his rewards.</s> <\|message\|>Isurta ~Isurta~ Ink --- It was a shallow strike, but it was enough to permanently injure the rabbit. As the rabbit fell dead, A large grin formed on Isurta's face. Had they...done it? Excitement filled the young goblin as the rabbit remained limp on the ground. That had been easier than she thought it'd be. The danger had been very real, but with the use of her head, obviously she came out on top. Oh and of course Xaal and Kish as well. They were a big help, of course. "Hahah!" She giggled loudly, eyes sparkling with obvious excitement, jumping into the air and giving a little fist pump. "We did it!" The only question now was how to split the spoils. There was only one horn, and the meat would possibly be enough for both of them...but she promised Gramps she'd bring back a lot, so she didn't exactly feel inclined to stop hunting now. "So what do you guys wanna do now? I say we hunt two more - one for all of us. If we keep up like this we should easily be able to do it. Maybe find a better way of fighting them, too." It'd also solve the problem of splitting the horn and spoils with the three of them, that way no one would be left without one. And if they could hunt more tomorrow, they might be able to bring back even more for their brothers and sisters. Plus, they should eventually start learning to hunt on their own as well...but for now, a group would do just fine.</s> <\|message\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] X a a l --- Isurta had been faster than he'd expected. When the rabbit had charged towards her hiding spot with a ferocity that surprised even him, Xaal felt a fleeting sense of helplessness. It wasn't fear, or panic - simply the feeling of knowing that it wasn't him being attacked, so he wouldn't be the one dealing with the consequences and danger. He hated not being able to do anything. But, with a surprising amount of agility and quick-thinking, the female Goblin had dodged to the side, and used the spear to dig a nice hole in the rabbit's side, probably hitting some vital organ. When the rabbit died, Xaal felt just a bit stronger. A small grin formed on his lips, showing rather sharp canines. "Nice stab." He stated, walking forward and crouching down to inspect the rabbit more closely. The horn was just as sharp-looking as he expected, with a length that he inwardly knew to be perfect for hunting smaller prey. This, of course, wouldn't be their last rabbit. They needed to eat, to gather their strength, before hunting for more horns and meat. He wouldn't be selfish and take this one all for himself, after all. "So what do you guys wanna do now? I saw we hunt two more - one for all of us. If we keep up like this we should easily be able to do it. Maybe find a better way of fighting them, too." Good thinking. Decision decided, Xaal reached down, breaking the long, sharp Rabbit Horn at the base, so that the length wouldn't be butchered. "Isurta, you killed it, so you take the first horn." Xaal spoke up bluntly, turning fierce crimson eyes towards the slightly shorter female. He stood, offering the horn to her, sharp-end first. He and Kishi would get theirs soon, after all.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs @Jangel13@Heyitsjiwon --- the third goblin while not maybe vital to their succes did prove helpful in killing the Rabbit. Unfortunately for Stegs that meant feeling the pain of his injury. "Stegs bleeding. That's not good. You okay?" He honestly had no idea if he was okay, he had no experience with injuries or aside from a memory pain. All he could tell was that it hurt a lot. He could only think of one thing to do about his injury and that was ask Grandpa for help, but would the older Goblin help him for free? If not he might have to offer up some of the meat and even between the three of them there was already only a little to eat. Wondering what to do he looked at the stream which was filled with moving creatures. Fish, was what those creatures were called. With that knowledge came an idea, maybe they could catch some to go with the rabbit meat and to offer to Grandpa in exchange for his help with Stegs' injury. "Don't know. Help me catch fish for Grandpa, maybe he'll help me then." he said sounding a lot calmer than he felt.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba @Wasted Ink@Duoya -after the hunt- As they separated the spoils the sharp horn of the rabbit was given to the goblin who made the final blow. Isurta Gained= Small Animal horn Each Goblin then gained the skill Escape As a result each of the goblins learned how to run away from a stronger enemy easier. This skill wasn't going to be helpful in actual combat when standing ones ground. As they soon finished their were three different paths that they could go. They could decide to go towards the darker area of the woods which would hold even stronger animals to hunt which were sure to give them greater skills and food to eat but was dangerous for new goblins to traverse. The second path was filled with more clearing and bushes which were sure to hold more horned rabbits for them to find. The final path was back where they came while they would be heading home early their was no question it would hold more berries and fruits for them to gather should they decide to avoid hunting all together.</s> <\|message\|>Isurta ~Isurta~ Ink --- "Wah? Really?" Isurta said, eyes sparkling as she observed the sharp horn. She was quite surprised, since had intended to let them have it but she wasn't going to say no since she was offered. Not saying anything, Isurta instead elected to give Xaal something a little more affectionate seeming in the way of thanks. Avoiding the sharp end of the horn, she wrapped Xaal in a light, quick hug giggling happily as she was offered the horn. It lasted only a brief seconds before she pulled away, swiping the horn from him as she started inspecting it. "Hmm! Light, incredibly sharp and looks pretty nice!" She held it at eye level, seeming to drink in every visual detail she could before running her hands over it and getting a good feel for the horn. With a confident smirk, she gave the horn a few experimental thrusts and swings, testing how good it would be for each motion. "Hmhm, seems like it'd be good...hey hey, Brother Kish! Think you could make a better spear out of this? How'd you make these anyways?" She was getting a bit sidetracked of course. Xaal apparently agreed that they should at least hunt two more, but she did want to know how Kishi made these spears to begin with. Maybe she could attempt to make one herself? She doubted it'd be as good as Kishi's handiwork, but she wanted to know regardless. Who knows, maybe one day such information might come in handy?</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Ink Kishi observed the exchange between the two goblins silently, eying up the corpse of the rabbit with an analytical glare. The fur could be used for gloves or clothes, while also capable of turning to leather for armor and containers... The teeth may prove as a basic alarm system if enough were gathered... His thoughts were interrupted by Sister Isurtas questioning. "...hey hey, Brother Kish! Think you could make a better spear out of this? How'd you make these anyways?" Kishi began to shift uncomfortably. These guys would never believe that a voice in his head gave him all these ideas... Probably. Kishi reached for the horn and examined it carefully. It was very large in his hands, and seemed to weigh almost nothing. Without even feeling it, Kishi knew it could easily eviscerate any of them if it hit the right place. Kishi responded with a half-truth. "With something like this, I could definitely make it sharper... The problem is durability. The horn may last a while, but I use cloth to keep it on the shaft. Knots don't really last long if you are jamming them with all your strength into some animal. If I had a better adhesive, they'd be perfect..." "I guess I just have a knack for this kind of stuff. I tied some sharp stones I found onto some sticks using those extra loincloths Grandpa leaves all over the place. It's... hard to explain without showing it." Kishi stared into the dark forest, a light chill crawling down his spine. He kneeled down and retied the head to his spear as he conversed with the group. "Alright, so we look for more right? I hope we don't have to go too far from the cave... Kishi stood up giving them the same stare he gave the rabbit. Sister Isurta was lightning quick, and was able to strike down the rabbit as it charged her. Brother Xaal, meanwhile, was much nicer than he appeared, and was by no means weak. Kishi stood up and lightly tapped the butt of his spear on the ground a few times. "Where do you guys want to go next?" Kishi slung Isurta's rabbit corpse over his shoulder and watched his surroundings. The rabbit was killed in a less than humane way, and blood painted the grass red. Other animals probably smell the blood... Hopefully the rabbits aren't scared... And the wolves aren't hungry... The hunger has died down temporarily.</s>	<\|message\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] X a a l --- Xaal stood stock still, eyes narrowed as he watched Isurta approach him - much too close for comfort. Subtly, he gripped the dagger from where he had relaxed it in his right hand, ready to defend himself if his fellow Goblin decided to attack him for whatever reason. He almost stabbed her when her arms briefly wrapped around his form, but something at the back of his mind told him to stay his hand, and he was rather glad that he did. It was merely a -hug-, his brain helpfully informed him, causing Xaal to release the iron-like grip on his weapon. Yeah, a hug. Not a sneak attack... He shook his head - ignoring the annoying heat in his ears, before surveying the surrounding area, going over their options as Isurta and Kishi began talking about the customly-created spear that the tall goblin had made. They'd already decided to keep hunting the rabbits, so the darker path was obviously out. His gut told him that things more dangerous than horned rabbits lurked in the shadows there, and Xaal was definitely not interested in testing his rock dagger on something like a bear. No, the best thing they could do, was to continue on their current grassy path in the forest, and be on the lookout for more rabbits. With Isurta's agility and cunning, Kishi's craftsmanship and strength, and his own determination and guile, Xaal was sure that they would be fine. "Where do you guys want to go next?" Convenient timing. "We will keep going-" Xaal's crimson eyes turned skywards for a second, before going back to Kishi and Isurta, "-northwards. It seems like the safest route for rabbits." He took one last look around the bloody clearing, before turning back to the path and walking forward.</s>
<\|description\|>Skubli Gender: Male Appearance: Skubli is remarkably small, even among goblin folk. Standing at a pathetic 3 foot 5 inches, Skubli is smaller than most goblins you'll meet. He possesses a hunched posture and and sleek shape. Skubli's skin is a shadowy green shade, contrasted sharply by his piercing yellow eyes. His lack of hair persists throughout his entire body, even across his scalp. The small goblin wears the typical dark loincloth, however he differs in the fact that he wears a small mantle of black cloth over his shoulders. Physically, this goblish creature is rather fragile. His hands possess sharp nails and flexible fingers. His nose hooks downwards over his mouth, giving him a sleek form. Personality: Skubli is not a particularly warm creature. While his loyalty is undying, his trust is a hard thing to come by. Skulbi won't cause you trouble if you leave him alone, however the little guy can be surprisingly spiteful if you cross him; however, due to his size, Skubli tends to ere on the side of timidity and not anger the big fish in the pond. He finds his anchor in familiarity, such as the black mantle he wears. The surrounding grasp of the cloth brings him comfort. If the goblin can lend you a hand without causing himself too much trouble, he'll usually do it, however Skubli will always try to get something out of it. While he is known to think for himself, Skubli is not a cruel creature. He despises senseless pain, however he has learned that it is simply a fact of life. Past Life History: Skubli's human life had everything that he needed to survive, but not much more. He grew up in the slums of Detroit. He kept his head down and did his best to avoid trouble. His parents weren't the best, however they were always there for him. His mother was a bit of a drunk and his father had an issue with anger, but they raised him as best they could. He never had any siblings to look out for him, so he grew up learning how to take a hit and how to stay out of serious trouble. Skubli always knew that unsuspected acts of violence always happened, but he had become so accustomed to being able to avoid trouble that he never considered he could be a victim. One wrong look at the wrong guy ended up with him living his last few minutes in the corner of an ally, slashed up and bleeding out his last pint of blood. Skill: Skubli's small form, sharp claws for climbing, and dark skin/mantle let him be pretty sneaky. Nothing too astounding, but it takes a pretty sharp goblin to catch him. Other: The mantle he wears is basically his comfort blanket. It keeps him warm and hides him from other people. Without it, he loses a lot of his vitality. Additionally, he's so small that he will probably never be the mightiest goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Isurta ~Isurta~ Ink --- As she was just about to get to hunting with brother Xaal, brother Kishi decided to join them carrying some very interesting...tools with them. Spears it looked like. Was that what they were called? Whatever, they looked like very effective stabby weapons. Perhaps a bit awkward to use without a bit of training, but with a bit of practice using one well would be easy enough, and what better way to get a feel for something than by using it in a practical scenario? This would be a good test run, yep. "W-wait! Let me come with you guys! I... I can help you! I have weapons, and we can watch each others backs!... Sorry if I'm coming on strong, I'm just really hungry... You guys have any leftover grubs you don't want?" "Hehe, of course you can join use Brother Kish." She giggled. "We can share the spoils among ourselves!" She wasn't too concerned with Brother Lothar's assessment that they needed to immediately scout the area. Certainly it would be a good idea to get to know the land immediately around them, but on an empty stomach? No, you were just asking to get in trouble. First food, then scouting and discovery. Knowledge was power, but knowledge was useless if you were to weak to properly use it. "Thanks for the weapon Kish!" She replied, taking one of the spears for herself. She ran her hand along the haft of the crude weapon, admiring its crude craftsmanship, trying to take in every detail she could and already imagining all the applications and ways she might be able to maneuver the weapon in order to use it effectively. Even a crude weapon as this could be deadly if used right...but her body was small and weak. She would need to fix that as soon as she could. Before she could think much more though, Brother Xaal quieted himself and the reason why became readily apparent. What could only be a horned rabbit was standing before them not too far into the underbrush. Isurta's eyes sparkled as she saw the horn adorning the rabbits head. It was certainly something that would be useful. She wanted it. It would make for a nice stabby weapon. She wouldn't be the only one who would want it though. Chances were, Xaal wanted it as well...hm. Well, she'd be satisfied with only the food for now if someone beat her to it. She'd hunt her own later when she was off exploring. "Hmhm..." She hummed quietly to herself, crouching next to Xaal, resting the butt of her spear on the ground as she observed the rabbit. She wasn't particularly strategically inclined, but she knew attacking head on at the moment would be pure folly. The spears had range over the rabbit, but their skill at using them was something that left much to be desired. "How are we gonna do it?" She asked after he asked if they were ready, muscles in her legs tensing. She was ready to pounce at a moments notice, and likely would faster than Xaal as well. She was confident in her agility for the moment. "I don't think I'd be fast enough to get it on my own." She hummed, tilting her head curiously to the side as she observed the rabbit, attempting to study it the best she could from a distance. "If one of you distract it for me, I could leap on it from behind."</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - --- The first few days of existence were challenging. Skubli was by far the smallest Goblin in the cave, as it was called, and while all the over Goblish folk grew in strength and capabilities, Skubli was left small and neglected. Some Goblins practiced walking; others scoured the cave for materials. A few of Skubli's brethren even fashioned weapons for them selves, but the small goblin merely cowered in the corner and observed them. During the first day, Skubli had managed to crawl away from the hoard of ugly green bodies to the deepest corner of the cave. Once there, a small tattered black mantle was discovered. The runt had donned the cloth and hid under it, blocking out of the the strange new world with familiar shadows. A couple of exploring goblins had approached Skubli as he huddled in the corner, however they had either not noticed his presence or deemed him unnoteworthy and moved on. It wasn't until the second day that Skubli was forced from his hideaway by an unavoidable enemy: Hunger. When the tiny goblin could no longer withstand the gouging fangs of the longing for food, he was forced to succumb to his desires and search for sustainance. The Grandfather Goblin had smiled warmly upon Skubli as his tiny, tormented frame had slowly dragged itself, drained of vitality, into the center of the cave. Skubli's nearby siblings gave him a glance or two, however none of them cared enough to approach him. Grandpa gently pushed forward a hunk of a strange substance Skubli hoped was edible towards the quivering frame underneath the black mantle. A small, clawed hand had reached out and drug the food underneath the mantle before noisily devouring the morsel with great delight. Grandpa and Skubli continued this routine two or three more times before the tiny goblin's hunger pains were sated and he returned to his corner, dragging along a small piece of food with him. After the third day when Grandpa announced that he would no longer be proving them food, Skubli forced himself from his corner. Without the source of food in the center of the room, Skubli would soon starve unless he found another form of sustanance. The small creature hadn't spoken another word to the creatures in the cave. He had formed no friendships or allies of any kind. He was weak and without a weapon aside from his wicked claws. Skubli crawled to the entrance of the cave as a trio of colorful-eyed goblins rushed off into the woods, hunting for food. Crouching near the cave's mouth, Skubli looked over his shoulder at the indistinct, shuffling forms of this brethren. Skubli opened his mouth to speak to the nearest Goblin, however his voice failed him and all that emerged was a small, quivering wail. Skubli immediately shrank back from the other Goblins and cast his gaze back out into the world of light. There were so many potentials, and that scared him. He had no one to defend him or fight for him, and he was too small to do it for himself. Skubli faced the fear that he might die before he ever left the cave.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs While the other Goblins mastered walking and talking he spent most of his free time trying to figure out what a gardener was. He instinctively made sure not to fall too much behind the others when it came to walking and talking, but his near constant quietness and stillness would no doubt give the illusion he was lazy. It was only at the end of the second day that he could walk more than five steps without hugging the cave wall. Stegs as he was recently named did talk to some of the others a bit, though that was more to imitate what words they could say than it was to get to know them. There was plenty of time for that after all. Mere seconds after he was finally able to say gardener, which when spoken out loud briefly made him envision things called plants and strange tools, Grandpa told them that the next day they had to provide for themselves. The young Goblin spent the rest of the day near the entrance of the cave imagining all the different plants he would see and then grow in the cave for food and to make it look nicer, until he eventually fell asleep. The next morning when he woke up he nearly ran outside, until he remembered about the dangers Grandpa had warned him about. so he waited and watched other goblins go first. Including a trio that brought weapons along. After some deliberation he decided to follow them and maybe team up, but he tripped on something as he headed towards the entrance. On closer inspection the "something" turned out to be another Goblin, one he had never seen before. "Sorry about that." Suddenly he got an idea a Goblin that was that good at not being seen might be a real help. "Wanna hunt together?"</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Ink Thank goodness! Kishi silently thanked the universe for being allowed to join the two other goblins. As he hands a spear to Sister Isurta, he realized just how crude and cumbersome it would be to use. The shaft was sharp and splintered and the head was haphazardly attached with a basic knot. Despite this, it had more range over fists, and even if it has horrible durability, the most expensive thing used to make it was time. He hands one of the three spears he made, hoping she wouldn't comment on the shoddy construction. "Thanks for the weapon Kish!" Sister Isurta seems thankful, at least. Kishi awkwardly hands the weqpon to her, not used to the spear's length and grip. He heard Brother Lothar make a remark about scouting the area first, and while Kishi would normally agree... He was not about to argue with the hunger. Kishi pretends to ignore Lothar as he walks out of the cave. Gripping his weapon tightly, he stumbles into the bright sunlight. The three of them traveled a few steps when Brother Xaal quickly fell to the ground. Kishi rushed to help him up, but he soon noticed that it was a crouch instead. When Sister Isurta did the same, Kishi attempted to copy the movement, falling silently on his behind. In a clearing barely out of view from the cave's mouth, a small furry creature with a massive horn protruding from it's skull was resting. Kishi licked his lips, not only for the anticipated meal, but also of the possibilities he saw with the horn. Kishi lightly poked the spear on the ground to test it's integrity and listened to the others. Brother Xall wanted a direct assault, while Sister Isurta wanted a distraction to assassinate the rabbit. Kishi was astonished with Brother Xaal's bravery. Never in his short life would he have thought about jumping in to his possible death so quickly. Sister Isurta, meanwhile, surprised him by demonstrating tactics and planning he wouldn't think of for days. Kishi, having never been hunting before, didn't have any idea which tactic should be employed, but he did see a compromise. "Brother Xaal and I could charge the beast when ready, leaving an opening for Sister Isurta to attack." Kishi was terrified of the rabbit, however... The promise of meat and the horn persuaded him into gambling his life with the rabbit. Kishi gripped his crude spear in anticipation.</s>	<\|message\|>Skubli A surprising force collided with Skubli's side, causing a small, panicked noise to escape his throat before he instinctively curled into a small ball, trying to disappear underneath his mantle. After a few seconds of silence, a voice apologized to Skubli. "Wanna hunt together?" The smaller goblin looked up at the figure standing over him. He was a typical Goblish creature, standing at average height and weight, however the one thing that drew Skubli's attention was his skin. The bright green hue of the newcomer's skin was remarkably distracting. Pausing for a moment, Skubli considered his options. The bigger goblin's skin drew attention away from Skubli, so that could be a possible way to avoid danger. Additionally, he was the first Goblin to speak to Skubli, and he was offering exactly what Skubli needed. [color=aba000]"Hunting with you good." Skubli croaked. /color] The lackluster grammar of Skubli's speech didn't go unnoticed by the tiny goblin, but he was proud he had managed a semi-complete sentence on his first try.</s>
<\|description\|>Skubli Gender: Male Appearance: Skubli is remarkably small, even among goblin folk. Standing at a pathetic 3 foot 5 inches, Skubli is smaller than most goblins you'll meet. He possesses a hunched posture and and sleek shape. Skubli's skin is a shadowy green shade, contrasted sharply by his piercing yellow eyes. His lack of hair persists throughout his entire body, even across his scalp. The small goblin wears the typical dark loincloth, however he differs in the fact that he wears a small mantle of black cloth over his shoulders. Physically, this goblish creature is rather fragile. His hands possess sharp nails and flexible fingers. His nose hooks downwards over his mouth, giving him a sleek form. Personality: Skubli is not a particularly warm creature. While his loyalty is undying, his trust is a hard thing to come by. Skulbi won't cause you trouble if you leave him alone, however the little guy can be surprisingly spiteful if you cross him; however, due to his size, Skubli tends to ere on the side of timidity and not anger the big fish in the pond. He finds his anchor in familiarity, such as the black mantle he wears. The surrounding grasp of the cloth brings him comfort. If the goblin can lend you a hand without causing himself too much trouble, he'll usually do it, however Skubli will always try to get something out of it. While he is known to think for himself, Skubli is not a cruel creature. He despises senseless pain, however he has learned that it is simply a fact of life. Past Life History: Skubli's human life had everything that he needed to survive, but not much more. He grew up in the slums of Detroit. He kept his head down and did his best to avoid trouble. His parents weren't the best, however they were always there for him. His mother was a bit of a drunk and his father had an issue with anger, but they raised him as best they could. He never had any siblings to look out for him, so he grew up learning how to take a hit and how to stay out of serious trouble. Skubli always knew that unsuspected acts of violence always happened, but he had become so accustomed to being able to avoid trouble that he never considered he could be a victim. One wrong look at the wrong guy ended up with him living his last few minutes in the corner of an ally, slashed up and bleeding out his last pint of blood. Skill: Skubli's small form, sharp claws for climbing, and dark skin/mantle let him be pretty sneaky. Nothing too astounding, but it takes a pretty sharp goblin to catch him. Other: The mantle he wears is basically his comfort blanket. It keeps him warm and hides him from other people. Without it, he loses a lot of his vitality. Additionally, he's so small that he will probably never be the mightiest goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Ink Thank goodness! Kishi silently thanked the universe for being allowed to join the two other goblins. As he hands a spear to Sister Isurta, he realized just how crude and cumbersome it would be to use. The shaft was sharp and splintered and the head was haphazardly attached with a basic knot. Despite this, it had more range over fists, and even if it has horrible durability, the most expensive thing used to make it was time. He hands one of the three spears he made, hoping she wouldn't comment on the shoddy construction. "Thanks for the weapon Kish!" Sister Isurta seems thankful, at least. Kishi awkwardly hands the weqpon to her, not used to the spear's length and grip. He heard Brother Lothar make a remark about scouting the area first, and while Kishi would normally agree... He was not about to argue with the hunger. Kishi pretends to ignore Lothar as he walks out of the cave. Gripping his weapon tightly, he stumbles into the bright sunlight. The three of them traveled a few steps when Brother Xaal quickly fell to the ground. Kishi rushed to help him up, but he soon noticed that it was a crouch instead. When Sister Isurta did the same, Kishi attempted to copy the movement, falling silently on his behind. In a clearing barely out of view from the cave's mouth, a small furry creature with a massive horn protruding from it's skull was resting. Kishi licked his lips, not only for the anticipated meal, but also of the possibilities he saw with the horn. Kishi lightly poked the spear on the ground to test it's integrity and listened to the others. Brother Xall wanted a direct assault, while Sister Isurta wanted a distraction to assassinate the rabbit. Kishi was astonished with Brother Xaal's bravery. Never in his short life would he have thought about jumping in to his possible death so quickly. Sister Isurta, meanwhile, surprised him by demonstrating tactics and planning he wouldn't think of for days. Kishi, having never been hunting before, didn't have any idea which tactic should be employed, but he did see a compromise. "Brother Xaal and I could charge the beast when ready, leaving an opening for Sister Isurta to attack." Kishi was terrified of the rabbit, however... The promise of meat and the horn persuaded him into gambling his life with the rabbit. Kishi gripped his crude spear in anticipation.</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - --- A surprising force collided with Skubli's side, causing a small, panicked noise to escape his throat before he instinctively curled into a small ball, trying to disappear underneath his mantle. After a few seconds of silence, a voice apologized to Skubli. "Wanna hunt together?" The smaller goblin looked up at the figure standing over him. He was a typical Goblish creature, standing at average height and weight, however the one thing that drew Skubli's attention was his skin. The bright green hue of the newcomer's skin was remarkably distracting. Pausing for a moment, Skubli considered his options. The bigger goblin's skin drew attention away from Skubli, so that could be a possible way to avoid danger. Additionally, he was the first Goblin to speak to Skubli, and he was offering exactly what Skubli needed. [color=aba000]"Hunting with you good." Skubli croaked. /color] The lackluster grammar of Skubli's speech didn't go unnoticed by the tiny goblin, but he was proud he had managed a semi-complete sentence on his first try.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba Grandpa soon watched as the others were left behind. The two that were left were the odd ones of the group and he knew that those two could have a hard time surviving but that was because the scrawny one which he named Skubli was by no doubt the runt in the litter as their was always one after all. He had to wait for him to come out of his corner as he was fed enough to last so that he could go back into the corner and hide away. No question that he was sneaky but Grandpa also knew that sneaky wasn't the same as smart or strong. The other one though which he named Stegs was something of a mystery to Grandpa as he seemed to be lazy at first but he could sense it was a ploy. What he couldn't figure out is if he was a leader or a follower or if he had the brains to survive out in the world. He couldn't interfere though he couldn't coddle the young ones or they will never thrive. He laughed a bit when Stegs actually tripped over Skubli and soon he was left inside the cave waiting till nightfall when the young ones would soon return after all it gets much more dangerous at night out their. --- @Duthguy -on the hunt- As the two would set out together in a different direction from the trio before they would soon come across a horned rabbit drinking in a nearby stream where fish were sure to live... --- @Rune_Alchemist@Wasted Ink As they got hidden within the brush the rabbit poked its head up as it heard the rustling of leaves. It ran its paw over its long ear as if trying to see if it was just hearing things. When he saw no movement it hopped a few inches away to another brush and started eating the berries on it. The small clearing they found themselves in was perfect for hiding around the rabbit to ambush it however if they made any noise above the whisper the Rabbit will take it as a threat and either attack head on and skewer them or run off as quick as possible making them loose their first target. It was up to how they approached the rabbit that will determine a successful hunt...</s> <\|message\|>Xaal [ Zaw-l ] X a a l --- "If one of you distract it for me, I could leap on it from behind." It wasn't a bad idea, and was rather similar to what he already had in mind. She was the fastest of the three, no doubt, and she had something a bit better than her fists to hunt with. The plan could work...but, once again, selfish thoughts fleeted through his mind. The horn, and the meat. The rabbit was too small for them to share three-way, and he knew that Isurta wasn't stupid - she'd want the horn, as well. It was sharp and a decent length. Something in the back of his mind told him that it was better than the pig-sticker he currently gripped in his hands. Maybe he should have went off on his own...then, he wouldn't be having these thoughts. "Brother Xaal and I could charge the beast when ready, leaving an opening for Sister Isurta to attack." He snapped out of his reveries, taking in the details of Kishi's words. That was the plan, then. Xaal was pleased that he managed to stay quiet, leaving the two to come up with the plan on their own. He could have said what was on his mind immediately, of course, but that would have made him the psuedo-leader of their little trio. Xaal wasn't so sure that he wanted that responsibility. That same little voice at the back of his head told him that family dying because of his actions wouldn't feel too good. He had never experienced grief before, and he had no intentions of doing so on his third day of being. The rabbit then chose the moment to move, it's long ears twitching as it moved towards a nearby bush of berries. A smirk pulled on Xaal's lips - the plan would work, considering the rabbit chose to show it's back to the bush. It was now directly across from their place in the clearing. If they managed to send it scurrying towards the bush, where Isurta was waiting, then maybe...if she was fast enough, she could run out and take it by surprise, although she would have to be mindful of the horn. His plan solidified, Xaal finally turned his eyes towards his siblings, his voice barely a whisper. "Isurta, stay hidden, but be fast. We will go around and lead it towards you, and you be ready to strike. It won't expect you here. Kishi, make sure it runs towards Isurta's bush. No...fear." His voice, nearly silent, and still rough from disuse, cracked a bit at the end, but Xaal ignored the soreness for now, giving Brother Kishi a nod. They'd put the plan into action now. His footsteps were quiet, Xaal hyper-aware of any sticks or leaves underneath his feet as he carefully moved around the rabbit, towards it's front. Kishi was big, for a goblin, and Xaal wasn't too bad himself. They could do this. With a subconscious twitch of his fingers, Xaal tore out of the bushes, eyes sharp and fierce as he leaped through the berries and towards the horned rabbit. The horn was even sharper up-close, but from the subconscious knowledge of prey, he knew that they ran first, and attacked later. Crimson eyes watched the horn religiously, even as Xaal made a lunge towards the rabbit, stabbing swiftly towards the soft flesh of the rabbit's neck. It would either have to die here, or make a swift 360 and run in the opposite direction. He would leave it no choice. If it attacked, then he would dodge. His reflexes and instincts were very sharp, if not sensitive. Kishi would, hopefully, be nearby, ready to make scary movements and corral the rabbit towards Isurta's waiting spot.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs Not knowing which way the others went Stegs just took off in a random direction, certain that they would find something to eat. He suddenly realized he had no idea what the other Goblin was called, that was actually a bit embarrassing. He would have to do something about that. "What name did Grandpa give you? He called me Stegs." As he waited for his partner to answer he remembered that the others had some kind of sharp sticks they were planning to use as weapons. Thinking that was incredibly smart, he looked for a good heavy branch. Eventually he found one and picked it up, along with some berries he was planning to plant in the cave. To make carrying things easier, and to find the way back he used to them to mark for now. On the way back he would pick the berries up again. It didn't take too long for the two youngster to arrive at a stream where they found a horned rabbit. Knowing how good his partner was at not being seen Stegs already had a plan. color=39b54a]"I'll distract and you catch it by surprise,okay?"[/color] He never even considered that the other Goblin might not have a weapon or any way to hurt the rabbit.</s>	<\|message\|>Skubli Skubli slowly stalked after the bigger goblin, still wary. His posture was slightly stooped, pulling his body closer to the ground and he scrambled awkwardly along after his companion. After a small amount of time had passed, the other Goblin spoke. "What name did Grandpa give you? He called me Stegs." The other Goblin looked down at Skubli in a kind manner. When Skubli didn't immediately reply, Stegs began scrounging around in the bushes nearby. Soon, he had armed himself with a hefty branch and continued along the path. After trailing behind his partner for a small while, Skubli spoke. "Grandpa gave me Skubli." Right after Skubli had finished speaking, the two goblins arrived at a stream. The cool water flowed smoothly over a shallow bed of rocks before growing deeper as it continued along its path. Trees gently shaded the area along the riverbed, creating a peaceful scene. Down by the stream sat what seemed to Skubli a giant, furry creature, armed with a wicked horn atop its head. It simply had to be the Horned Rabbits Grandpa had warned the younglings about. Stegs seemed to already have concocted a plan of attack. "I'll distract it and you catch it by surprise, okay?" Skubli's heart skipped a beat, however he didn't want to seem weak. "Don't let us get hurt." His weak limbs shook slightly, however under his mantle he doubted Stegs could see it.</s>
<\|description\|>Skubli Gender: Male Appearance: Skubli is remarkably small, even among goblin folk. Standing at a pathetic 3 foot 5 inches, Skubli is smaller than most goblins you'll meet. He possesses a hunched posture and and sleek shape. Skubli's skin is a shadowy green shade, contrasted sharply by his piercing yellow eyes. His lack of hair persists throughout his entire body, even across his scalp. The small goblin wears the typical dark loincloth, however he differs in the fact that he wears a small mantle of black cloth over his shoulders. Physically, this goblish creature is rather fragile. His hands possess sharp nails and flexible fingers. His nose hooks downwards over his mouth, giving him a sleek form. Personality: Skubli is not a particularly warm creature. While his loyalty is undying, his trust is a hard thing to come by. Skulbi won't cause you trouble if you leave him alone, however the little guy can be surprisingly spiteful if you cross him; however, due to his size, Skubli tends to ere on the side of timidity and not anger the big fish in the pond. He finds his anchor in familiarity, such as the black mantle he wears. The surrounding grasp of the cloth brings him comfort. If the goblin can lend you a hand without causing himself too much trouble, he'll usually do it, however Skubli will always try to get something out of it. While he is known to think for himself, Skubli is not a cruel creature. He despises senseless pain, however he has learned that it is simply a fact of life. Past Life History: Skubli's human life had everything that he needed to survive, but not much more. He grew up in the slums of Detroit. He kept his head down and did his best to avoid trouble. His parents weren't the best, however they were always there for him. His mother was a bit of a drunk and his father had an issue with anger, but they raised him as best they could. He never had any siblings to look out for him, so he grew up learning how to take a hit and how to stay out of serious trouble. Skubli always knew that unsuspected acts of violence always happened, but he had become so accustomed to being able to avoid trouble that he never considered he could be a victim. One wrong look at the wrong guy ended up with him living his last few minutes in the corner of an ally, slashed up and bleeding out his last pint of blood. Skill: Skubli's small form, sharp claws for climbing, and dark skin/mantle let him be pretty sneaky. Nothing too astounding, but it takes a pretty sharp goblin to catch him. Other: The mantle he wears is basically his comfort blanket. It keeps him warm and hides him from other people. Without it, he loses a lot of his vitality. Additionally, he's so small that he will probably never be the mightiest goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen --- As Lomen exited the cave, he heard the start of Grandpa's story and would have to ask both Grandpa and Zectoll for more information. If anything it would be an amazing experience for him and anyone else who would hunt the majestic beast. In a way it was ironic the small party that had come back. One had a deep hatred for wolves, another aspires to resemble them, and himself wanted to be closer to beasts and come to an understanding of them and, if possible, learn to live with them or integrate them into the clan. While Kishi would protest, Lomen respected that beasts survive like the goblins do and would prefer to maybe live with a few as companions as he grows in life. That idea made him smile and he looked back to Kishi. "I am glad you decided to join me even with the ceremony just finished." --- As Lomen joined Kishi he also took into consideration both the size and danger of the boar. "Here is my plan: I'll go in for a direct assault and, while it's distracted, you jump down from one of the trees. Since you don't have much reach with your horn, jumping down is much better than being the bait." "Should be fun. It is important we each play around with different positions and find our own fighting style. Be sure to position yourself in front of a tree or large stone. Although the tusks may be scary, they can also be broken or stuck into a tree. If you desire being the bait you can take my shield. If not I will tie it around you or myself as armor. I would prefer to be the bait but I will not stop you if you believe you would be the better bait." Lomen then took some fur off of the horned rabbit pelt and let it float out of his hand in order to find a position downwind. Lomen moved to a spot with trees that was down wind of the boar and sent a small prayer before turning to Kishi. "This is a good spot. I would rather be the one to take a greater risk as bait since you have experienced dropping from above already and I have a skill to help dodge deadly blows. If you want to switch roles, tell me now so I can either go up or wait on you to get to the top." In reality he did not care either way of where he went, but would prefer to have Kishi stay out of immediate danger. Where it would be nice for Kihi to have some front line and bait experience, this is much more dangerous than a horned rabbit and should not be taken lightly. "God of Beasts, I thank you for this hunt. God of Origin please watch over us and help us. God of Life, let my heart beat strongly. God of Death, may you guide the spirits of the fallen. God of Wind guide my strikes. God of Storms please strengthen by blows with thunderous power and lightning speed. To all the Gods, thank you for this world I live in." Lomen is ready to take up position in tree or in front of a tree as bait. After Kishi decides, he will proceed with the plan. If bait will do a challenging roar, waiting to dodge any oncoming charges and possibly slash at legs of boar. If in tree, will wait for an opportune moment to silently drop onto the boar, using heavy strike to drive the horn into the beast. @Duoya</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Dreams of Conquest Listening intently to Grandpa Goblins story, Zectoll munched on his portion of wolf meat with haste, his eyes wide and gleaming. His imagination began to run wild, visions of a huge monstrous wolf with blood drenched fangs and a shimmering noir coat, racing through the shadows of the forest delivering death upon those who would oppose its rule upon the mountaintop and devouring the life of the various beasts of prey to be found within its domain. The visions both frightened and excited him. His spirit was renewed though, as Grandpa Goblin had fed him just as the elder had done when he was but a mere infant. Though the morsel imparted unto him this time was not of plant nor animal flesh, but of knowledge, food for the mind. Zectoll rose to his feet, his stone tipped hunting spear grasped tightly at his side. Thank you, Grandpa. I now know what path I must take. The path of Conquest Conquest.The word had sprung into his mind like lightning during a storm. He would face his fear, build his strength, ascend the mountain to the north and conquer it, usurping the mantle of King from this Great Wolf. Though such a feat was far from his grasp at the current moment, he knew with hard work and determination, he could reach this goal. Why else would the Elder Goblin share this tale with him, if such a goal was impossible to achieve. Zectoll bowed to the Elder Goblin, and then made his way out of the cave, remembering that Lomen had said something about going out to hunt again. Zectoll had barely heard his brother speak, so enraptured was he by the tales of Grandpa. It appeared to him that Kishi had gone as well. Zectoll was alone again. He knew what he must do. The process to defeating the King of the Wolves was simple. He would need to learn more skills and develop them. He would also need better equipment. Finally, he would need to eat and grow bigger and stronger. All of these steps could be accomplished by going out and defeating the various beasts of the forest. Zectoll decided that he would start off small, since he was alone. It was apparent to him that both Kishi and Lomen had each killed horned rabbits on their own, each having a deadly horn as a testament to such a fact. Both also had pelts in which to cover themselves. Zectoll looked down at the dirty rags that encircled his groin. Not good enough. Zectoll said to himself as he stood at the mouth of the cave. Stone spear in hand Zectoll made his way into the forest, making sure to be as quiet as possible. His eyes were focused, as he searched for his intended prey, Horned Rabbit. Deciding he wouldn't stray far from the cave, Zectoll looked for a berry bush. He planned to hide near such a bush, in hopes of ambushing a Horned rabbit. He hoped one with a large horn would come. The Larger the horn, the deadlier the weapon Zectoll thought to himself as he imagined the type of weapon a large rabbit horn could become.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba Noche -rite of passage- As the goblin went to the berry bush he was rewarded for his patience as a large horned rabbit appeared. This was another Alpha having a larger horn then a regular horned rabbit as it didn't smell the goblin nearby but it moved closer to the goblins bush because it had berries. If the goblin didn't move then the goblin would be caught by the rabbit and it will have the first strike and considering how close it would be getting the goblins chances of winning were getting slimmer by the second.</s>	<\|message\|>Skubli Skubli sat, staring mesmerized at the fish as they swam through the river. Their brilliant iridescent sheen gave a wonderful, haunting effect as they twisted their bodies in odd patterns to propel themselves forward through the water. Despite his initial reservations of spending any more time outside of the cave, something drew Skubli to them. As they slowly drifted away, the goblin runt submerged his body into the stream and slowly creeped along the bottom of the riverbed, blending in with the muddy, rocky surface beneath the school of fish. He slowly stalked beneath them, his previous concerns merely a shade of a memory in the back of his mind. His lungs screamed in pain, however the desire to continue to observe the fish was far too powerful for the small, simple minded goblin to resist. Seconds faded into minutes, and it felt as if minutes faded into hours as he followed them, all the while without air to breathe. The school weaved themselves in and out of each other, swimming in dazzling group patters that displayed the wonderful light of their scales. Soft yellows faded into burnt oranges into crimson reds and vibrant violets. Their shining beauty ensnared the goblin, making him forget himself, thinking only of the brilliance of their light... Pain shot through his torso as his body overrode his commands to hold his breath as his lungs sucked in a deep breath of murky water. The tiny runt thrashed, overcome by the pain, and searched for anything to orient himself towards the surface. The shining fish were nowhere to be found, and muddled darkness surrounded him. A faint white light shone to his right, beckoning him towards it. Unaware of which way the surface was, Skubli flailed in the direction of the glow. Fire burned within his lungs, fueled by the cold waters suppressing him. His head broke the surface and air flooded into his half flooded lungs, inducing a coughing fit that brought fresh pain but also relief. After a few minutes, the small creature was able to reorient himself as to his surroundings. He tread water roughly fifty feet off of the shore in a lake, with murky waters reflecting the shining moon above. Trees dotted the shoreline, offering haunting shadows and twisted branches. His limbs slowly gave out as he attempted to stay afloat; swimming was something he wasn't particularly able to do, and the exhaustion made it that much more difficult. Skubli began making his way back towards shore, terrified of the thought of a creature lurking beneath the waters, waiting for him to tire out. Within a couple minutes, the goblin had reached the shore and dragged himself up upon the beach, resting on the cool sand. The water behind him lapped quietly against the shore, reminding Skubli that he had to keep moving to find shelter for the night. He warily entered the forest, his small frame shivering in the cold night air. He walked for hours, searching for shelter, unable to find a safe place to rest. Multiple night creatures followed him throughout the night, searching for an easy meal, however Skubli slipped away from each predator, sneaking through the surrounding underbrush to avoid being slain. Eventually, a massive tree presented itself with minimal low hanging branches. Skubli dug his claws into the bark and ascended, quickly scaling the plant and finding a comfortable perch around forty feet off of the ground. Skubli wrapped himself in his mantle and curled into a tiny ball, letting his exhaustion overtake him as the sun peeked over the horizon. --- The sun was high in the sky when Skubli awoke. His limbs ached and his innards grumbled, desiring of food. The tiny goblin slowly descended from his perch and scrambled along the ground, quickly making his way towards the sound of running water. Whether it was mere luck or some higher power smiling down upon him, he recognized it as the stream that he and his siblings had been hunting near. He followed its path downstream, back towards the lake. He had walked a great distance the previous night and had most likely passed the spot where they had slain the horned rabbit. After almost an hour of quick scampering, he reached the spot where the dazzling fish had first been discovered. Across the river laid the corpse of the horned rabbit, picked clean of anything desirable by Stegs and the second goblin who's name Skubli couldn't recall. The water was pleasantly cool on Skubli's skin as he swam across, moving past the corpse and to the cave as soon as possible. He knew the way back fairly well, despite having only traveled this path once. Soon the cave came into view, with a couple of goblins near the entrance. Skubli slowly crawled back inside, sitting in the entrance and letting his persistent exhaustion overtake him.</s>
<\|description\|>Skubli Gender: Male Appearance: Skubli is remarkably small, even among goblin folk. Standing at a pathetic 3 foot 5 inches, Skubli is smaller than most goblins you'll meet. He possesses a hunched posture and and sleek shape. Skubli's skin is a shadowy green shade, contrasted sharply by his piercing yellow eyes. His lack of hair persists throughout his entire body, even across his scalp. The small goblin wears the typical dark loincloth, however he differs in the fact that he wears a small mantle of black cloth over his shoulders. Physically, this goblish creature is rather fragile. His hands possess sharp nails and flexible fingers. His nose hooks downwards over his mouth, giving him a sleek form. Personality: Skubli is not a particularly warm creature. While his loyalty is undying, his trust is a hard thing to come by. Skulbi won't cause you trouble if you leave him alone, however the little guy can be surprisingly spiteful if you cross him; however, due to his size, Skubli tends to ere on the side of timidity and not anger the big fish in the pond. He finds his anchor in familiarity, such as the black mantle he wears. The surrounding grasp of the cloth brings him comfort. If the goblin can lend you a hand without causing himself too much trouble, he'll usually do it, however Skubli will always try to get something out of it. While he is known to think for himself, Skubli is not a cruel creature. He despises senseless pain, however he has learned that it is simply a fact of life. Past Life History: Skubli's human life had everything that he needed to survive, but not much more. He grew up in the slums of Detroit. He kept his head down and did his best to avoid trouble. His parents weren't the best, however they were always there for him. His mother was a bit of a drunk and his father had an issue with anger, but they raised him as best they could. He never had any siblings to look out for him, so he grew up learning how to take a hit and how to stay out of serious trouble. Skubli always knew that unsuspected acts of violence always happened, but he had become so accustomed to being able to avoid trouble that he never considered he could be a victim. One wrong look at the wrong guy ended up with him living his last few minutes in the corner of an ally, slashed up and bleeding out his last pint of blood. Skill: Skubli's small form, sharp claws for climbing, and dark skin/mantle let him be pretty sneaky. Nothing too astounding, but it takes a pretty sharp goblin to catch him. Other: The mantle he wears is basically his comfort blanket. It keeps him warm and hides him from other people. Without it, he loses a lot of his vitality. Additionally, he's so small that he will probably never be the mightiest goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Lomen's screech did the job, and the injured boar turned to face him. As he did so, Kishi maneuvered himself to it's side, before driving the spear through the mighty beasts flank. The feeling of flesh give way as easy as air caused the goblin to grin. Surely, this is how the wolves must have felt. Killing something so easily... It made Kishi grin. Not out of happiness, but out of satisfaction. He was going to kill anything and everything that threatened his kind, his family. This boar was no exception. Kishi held the spear firmly, before twisting it and letting it go. The boar trembled slightly, almost as if it was trying to fight the fact that it nearly died, before it's legs simply gave way. The eyes of the creature rolled back in it's head, and it remained still. A long, drawn out breath exited, and the creature expired. Kishi grinned. The fear of death was gone, at least temporarily. It was imposible for him to die, at least right now. He refused to die as long as there was one creature that threatened the goblin existence. His kind were not meant to be stepping stones, as food. Not anymore, at least. Lomen moved close to the east and began to extract the heart, which Kishi had honestly thought was destroyed. Lomen turned to the goblin. "You should eat a bit as well before we take this back to camp. I think it would be best to share our hunt with the clan since I am well fed and we still have a wolf I need to show you how to skin." Kishi's eyes turned towards the tusks of the creature, and he carefully removed his spear so as to not harm Lomen. Kishi quickly slashed at the two blade-like bones with his spear. Both broke off cleanly, and Kishi tossed one of them to Lomen. As Kishi replaced the horn of the rabbit with the tusk, he gave out his response. "I refuse to eat this. At least, right now. I will not eat this until every other goblin in our home has had their fill. Grandfather especially. He is far to old to be doing his own hunting." Kishi wasn't going to let any goblin in his home die, even if they couldn't hunt. If he had to, he was going to feed every damn one of them himself. The tusk was curved and, as a result, Kishi's spear was now more akin to a halberd than anything else. Kishi gave the weapon several practice swings before Lomen spoke again. "Also, Kishi, I do not know what happened when you made your screech earlier, but I have gotten a skill called 'challenge'..." An intense wave of pain flooded throughout all of Kishi's body. All around him was pure blackness, and an intense feeling of hunger consumed his being. Slowly, the hunger faded, leaving in it's place a cold numbness. Just as soon as it appeared, it faded away, and Lomen's voice reappeared. "...something like this after the fight with the wolves?" Kishi breathed heavily, a look of fear in his eyes. He tuned away from Lomen, and gave out his reply. "...I don't know what you're talking about, Brother Lomen." A wetness appeared on his face, and Kishi reached up to remove it. As he pulled away, a red liquid followed. ...Blood? Kishi wiped away the fluid quickly, before moving to the rear of the beast and grabbing hold of it's hooves. "...We should take this back home. We can divide up the parts back there. Besides, this thing is too large to carry back with anything else, and the blood will draw lot's of attention." The fear of death had returned. 4 Winds,@Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen --- "...I don't know what you're talking about, Brother Lomen....We should take this back home. We can divide up the parts back there. Besides, this thing is too large to carry back with anything else, and the blood will draw lot's of attention." "So you mean to say you have never acquired any skills from your previous battles? Not even any special strikes or the kind? I was hoping I could possibly see if I could learn a few of your skills and teach you some of mine. Either way, I agree that we need to take this back together brother Kishi." Lomen smiled and helped lift the boar and started them off towards the cave. He kept an even pace so that Kishi would match it and they would be able to get back to the cave within a good amount of time. Meanwhile Lomen kept his ear open to Kishi and enjoyed the clean air of the forest as a small breeze brushed past. Lomen sniffed the air to see how it smelled and also to see if there was anything unusual upwind that would be better off avoided. @Duoya</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- First Blood As quickly as it had began, the conflict between Goblin and Horned rabbit was over. Zectoll's savage strike ended the Alpha's life quickly, before it could attempt to fight back. The feeling of slaying a beast in such a fast and complete fashion was exhilarating to Zectoll. He could feel the new skill he had learned, without reading its description. The skill savage strike and predator stance had begun to affect his mind, and how he felt. Crouching down eyes narrowed and ears alert, Zectoll observed his surroundings, for any potential threat. For a moment he thought that perhaps he should find Lomen and Kishi, but the thought soon faded, replaced by a desire to feast upon this fresh kill. Zectoll ripped the Alpha's large horn from its head and used it to puncture the fallen rabbits throat. A stream of blood, still warm with fading life began to spill from the wound. Zectoll lapped up the blood greedily. After draining much of the blood from the carcass, Zectoll hoisted the kill onto his back. In his new found predator stance Zectoll stalked through the shadows of the forest quietly, making his way back to the cave.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba @demonspade64 -After a flower- The flower was dead and as such once they figured out what to do with the remains they soon saw that it was starting to get dark. The remains of the flower had many uses with its petals being able to be created into a bag even the lure was useful as it could make small animals like horned rabbits come to eat it. The flower was useful and their was no doubt a live flower next time could be even better even as a primitive form of defense if they thought to use the flower that way. --- @The 4 Winds As the goblins spoke the sun was starting to set showing that it was dark and while they were no doubt productive in gaining such a large bounty they would no doubt need to hurry back before it got to dark. The meat was hard to carry back even if they ate some before trying to carry it back. The tusks were very sharp and perfect to made into a weapon which one of the goblins already did. No doubt tomorrow would be an even better day considering they didn't need to worry about food with the meat they brought back so tomorrow they would be able to relax without worry of starving. --- Noche Predator heads back- The goblin soon enjoyed its kill eating the remains of his prey happily. This goblin was soon gaining the skills necessary to be a great killer but not just any killer but a predator in his own right. As the goblin went into his predators stance his steps seemed not to make a sound making the trip back safe. The sun was setting and it was time to head back anyways as he soon found himself at the cave first and Grandpa only noticed the young one when he was near him "You were so quiet. Make some noise when you walk you could have given this old goblin a heart attack" He said panting a little still surprised but smiling at the young one being able to be so quiet would no doubt serve the young one well</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Overall, the trip back home was long and arduous. The boar, which was larger than either goblin and weighed many times more, offered no assistance, and the wound that Kishi had inflicted had made the fur slick with blood in certain parts. Overall, the trip was spent with idle chit-chat and labored grunting. After Kishi had given his response to Lomen, he continued on his discussion of these so called "Skills" "So you mean to say you have never acquired any skills from your previous battl-" Once again, Lomen was cut off. Darkness had encompassed all of Kishi's view. All that remained was a light pain in his stomach, and the sound of waves in the distance. Kishi could feel soft sand beneath his body, and the scent of ocean air filled his senses. By the time he tried to grasp any meaning on the strange event, it immediately vanished, with Lomen returning to his view. "-we need to take this back together brother Kishi." "I apologize, but I do not know what you mean when you refer to these skills. I agree, we seem to develop traits and actions quite easily... But I never got a skill with a name. Perhaps you are special in that regard. You should ask Grandfather about it. He is quite wise in regards to the ways of the world." After he finished giving advice, Kishi slowly lifted the boars back legs, and the rest of the trip consisted of chit-chat and Kishi instructing Lomen on the directions he needed to follow in order to not slam into a tree or trip. --- What felt like hours passed by, and by the time the goblins had finally reached the cavern, it was already dusk, the sun turning the sky into a crimson expanse. Slowly, the boar was carried inside, much to the envy of the less fortunate goblins in the family. The boar was laid at the feet of Grandfather. It wasn't until Kishi wiped the sweat from his face that he noticed Brother Zectoll was standing next to Grandfather, and looked... much more threatening than he usually did. Dismissing this thought, Kishi lightly tapped the side of the boar, creating a soft slapping sound that echoed throughout the entire cave. Kishi began to speak. "Greetings, Grandfather! I apoligize that I interrupted your conversation with Brother Zectoll, but I bring great news! Brother Lomen and I have returned with a feast for the family! If you would be so kind, I would be in your debt if you distributed this to those who are unable to catch their own food. If brother Lomen-" Kishi turns to face both Grandfather and Lomen at the same time. "-is done claiming his share, it would be an honor to allow you the first cut." Kishi grinned happily. Surely, this boar would be able to feed the rest of his kin. His people would be able to live another day. And all it cost was the life of one disgusting monster! @The 4 Winds@El Noche</s> <\|message\|>Stegs Stegs --- After Stegs successfully tore one of the petals off he placed the berries and plants he collected on it and used the petal as a makeshift bag. He didn't really see what uses the other parts of the plant could be, but maybe that goblin who made the spears could think of something and if not there were still plenty of future bags so on the way back he made sure to memorize the path. Once he arrived at the cave Stegs heard some goblin talk about a feast for the whole family which was convenient cause he was starving, though the downside was that both Grandpa and the weapon maker were busy. Impatiently he waited until either the old goblin was free so he could try and convince him to help identify his loot, or until he could tell the weaponmaker about the flower and the possibilities it might offer. @demonspade64</s>	<\|message\|>Skubli Skulbi slept for hours, his eyes fluttering back and forth beneath his closed lids. Haunted dreams and dark half memories led to surreal hallucinations, however they blurred together into nothingness. When the goblin awoke, he was further into the cave than he last remembered, snuggled warmly in his mantle. A few goblins murmured faintly near the mouth of the cave. Skubli allowed himself to rest, trembling slightly as he reflected upon his newfound life. He had been keeping a mental barrier to remove himself from the negative emotions of his existence since the moment he was born, however it was at its breaking point. The small goblin trembled violently in his warm mantle, unable to handle the thought of his new life. Time passed, and eventually he made his way out to the rest of the cave to continue his life.</s>
<\|description\|>Skubli Gender: Male Appearance: Skubli is remarkably small, even among goblin folk. Standing at a pathetic 3 foot 5 inches, Skubli is smaller than most goblins you'll meet. He possesses a hunched posture and and sleek shape. Skubli's skin is a shadowy green shade, contrasted sharply by his piercing yellow eyes. His lack of hair persists throughout his entire body, even across his scalp. The small goblin wears the typical dark loincloth, however he differs in the fact that he wears a small mantle of black cloth over his shoulders. Physically, this goblish creature is rather fragile. His hands possess sharp nails and flexible fingers. His nose hooks downwards over his mouth, giving him a sleek form. Personality: Skubli is not a particularly warm creature. While his loyalty is undying, his trust is a hard thing to come by. Skulbi won't cause you trouble if you leave him alone, however the little guy can be surprisingly spiteful if you cross him; however, due to his size, Skubli tends to ere on the side of timidity and not anger the big fish in the pond. He finds his anchor in familiarity, such as the black mantle he wears. The surrounding grasp of the cloth brings him comfort. If the goblin can lend you a hand without causing himself too much trouble, he'll usually do it, however Skubli will always try to get something out of it. While he is known to think for himself, Skubli is not a cruel creature. He despises senseless pain, however he has learned that it is simply a fact of life. Past Life History: Skubli's human life had everything that he needed to survive, but not much more. He grew up in the slums of Detroit. He kept his head down and did his best to avoid trouble. His parents weren't the best, however they were always there for him. His mother was a bit of a drunk and his father had an issue with anger, but they raised him as best they could. He never had any siblings to look out for him, so he grew up learning how to take a hit and how to stay out of serious trouble. Skubli always knew that unsuspected acts of violence always happened, but he had become so accustomed to being able to avoid trouble that he never considered he could be a victim. One wrong look at the wrong guy ended up with him living his last few minutes in the corner of an ally, slashed up and bleeding out his last pint of blood. Skill: Skubli's small form, sharp claws for climbing, and dark skin/mantle let him be pretty sneaky. Nothing too astounding, but it takes a pretty sharp goblin to catch him. Other: The mantle he wears is basically his comfort blanket. It keeps him warm and hides him from other people. Without it, he loses a lot of his vitality. Additionally, he's so small that he will probably never be the mightiest goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Day 4:Duel of Goblins, continued Zectoll's muscled pumped with blood, bulging under the strain of throwing his opponent over his shoulder. He watched as Lomen hit the ground, rolling roughly upon the ground before springing back up, a small bit of blood leaking from his back. Zectoll watched as he brother touched the small wound, licking up the blood. For a brief moment his mind receded out to memories of his fateful dream, of being bathed in blood. The thought passed as quickly as it came and Zectoll slipped back into his predatory trance, fixated once again on the duel. Throwing Lomen had winded Zectoll slightly, so in the brief moments of Lomen recovering from the throw, Zectoll breathed deeply out of his nose taking a moment to recover himself. His muscles were still pumped as he watched Lomen go on the offense. Zectoll expected another heavy blow and began to dodge, not anticipating a quick short jab to the body. The jab caught him squarely in the side. Zectoll gritted his teeth as he took the blow that was lighter than he expected, and immediately countered with a left right jab combination aimed at Lomen's upper torso and head, this time performing the attacks as fast as he was able. 4 winds@Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen @El Noche --- With the hit Lomen had anticipated the attacks but still got hit squarely in the chest with the first jab, barely able to step back and dodge the right jab. It appeared that even with his ability to dodge it only went so far against speed. This was an invaluable lesson for Lomen in that he couldn't only rely on his skills to pull him through a fight unscathed. With that in mind Lomen backed up so that he was a bit further than before, attempting to stay just outside Zectoll's reach and inside his own. Since he was already moving the punch didn't damage him too much but it was a hit that could add up faster than Lomen wanted to take. Lomen stepped forwards with his left leg and drew his right hand back, seeming to go for another big swing. What he would actually aim for would be a jab with his left using Heavy strike. Lomen was attempting a feint. After he would crouch down and use the momentum from the punch to try a leg sweeping move with his right leg, using the left leg as a pivot and his hands as stabilizers to help him dash back a bit if the attack was successful. Either way this was an interesting bout as blood pulsed through his body, making a small growl escape as he was crouched down. Lomen was still vigilant and kept his eyes on Zectoll's movements, trying to find attacks that he could replicate later on and how to best avoid them.</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Day 4:Duel of Goblins, continued His left fist hit squarely into Lomen's chest, resounding off as his right fist flew forward, barely missing as Lomen evaded the blow out . Zectoll could feel the rhythm of the fight intensifying, and he would not let the beat fall in tempo. He began to press Lomen, aggressively moving in. He could see that Lomen was going for another heavy hit, but Zectoll pressed on, his guard up ready to take the blow in order to get inside Lomen's guard. Zectoll began to attempt to access the stream of consciousness that had flowed within him earlier in the day, gifting him the knowledge of unarmed fighting, his mind praying to whatever higher power he subconsciously felt he was connected with. Lomen's heavy strike flew, not from the right, but from the left. Fully anticipating to take the strike, the blow landed against Zectoll's guard heavily, stopping his advancement. The force of the blow flowed through him, breaking his guard. Unable to continue forward and reeling from the heavy strike Zectoll barely glimpsed the sweeping of Lomen's legs just in time to tuck his own legs underneath him, rolling to the side, feigning as if he had truly been tripped, using the maneuver and momentum of the heavy strike to deftly roll springing up behind Lomen and using the force of the roll to perform a side kick aimed at Lomen's midsection. The kick was a mirror of what Lomen had done, only aimed higher up on the body. 4 winds@Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen @El Noche --- Lomen felt the impact and snapped his eyes on Zectol as he felt nothing but the air greet his attempt at a leg sweep. With the lack of impact Lomen was cautious as Zectoll rolled and was rewarded with seeing a kick incoming with momentum. Lomen was able to use his hands and left leg to jump back but his left forearm was hit by the blow. It was a strong blow and threw off Lomen's balance, causing him to skid and tumble on the ground. The rocks were not kind to the other cuts, increasing their number, along with tearing open the cuts on Lomen's back, now gently bleeding. Again Lomen touched his back and felt a slight increase in pain than last time, licking the blood off of his fingers as he stood up. This was a good bout but Lomen felt that he couldn't say it was in his favor. He seemed to be outclassed in speed and that last hit made his left arm feel a bit numb, so it would need a few moments to recover. Moments he wouldn't have. He also had a nagging feeling that he was on the edge of learning something and must push on. Keeping Zectoll in sight was paramount as Lomen focused, taking a few deep breaths to clear his head and he slightly crouched a bit. He lifted his hands in front him to be able to judge how far his fists could truly reach and bounced on the balls of his feet. A few bounces made him feel as if he was a heart pulsing blood through his body, although it made him feel the small tinge of pain on his back from the open scratches. Cautiously he made his way forward, keeping Zectoll in vision as to not lose him. A few feet of slowly approaching, Lomen would try to quickly approach with a zig-zag pattern, much like he did with against the Alpha Horned Rabbit on his first hunt. As he got close, he would dash to the left and try a quick right knee at Zectoll's midsection using Heavy Strike. It would be using Lomen's full body weight behind it. In order to pull the knee back, Lomen would then twist his body to throw a left hook aiming at Zectoll's right shoulder. It was a risky move, but Lomen was more interested in how Zectoll would react that what would happen to himself.</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Day 4:Duel of Goblins, continued Zectoll felt his foot collide with Lomen's arm, the blow throwing his brother off balance, sending him tumbling away once again. His dexterity and speed had proved to be critical in this bout, he landed lightly on his feet after delivering the kick. Zectoll used this brief moment of separation to recover as well, reforming his guard and readying his stance. He eyed Lomen intensely, preparing for the next onslaught his brother would bring to bare. Lomen began to charge at him, darting from left to right. It seemed that Lomen was going for an all out attack. A wide grin appeared on Zectoll's face, as he realized that Lomen's fighting spirit was much like his own. Zectoll was prepared, his stance and guard ready, he would accept Lomen's fighting spirit. He would not run from Lomen's risky attack, he would meet it with his own, two fighting spirits colliding. As Lomen dashed towards him, right knee outstretched, Zectoll threw a powerful jab, putting as much speed and power into the blow as he could muster. The reach of his arm was longer than Lomen's knee, and with Lomen committing his full body-weight to the attack, Zectoll doubted his brother would be able to change course in time to dodge the blow. Excitement coursed through him as his fist flew, a look of intensity on his face, a low growl escaping his lips, confident that his jab would land true preventing Lomen's knee attack from landing with full force. Though he felt that Lomen's endurance was very great, he imagined that the force of his jab combined with the momentum of Lomen's dash would be enough to end the bout. 4 winds@Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen @El Noche --- Lomen knew this would be bad going in and was ready to face the consequences. It seemed to happen in slow motion as he left the ground, smiling back at Zectoll's grin. The motion as Zectoll threw the jab, using a slight swinging motion in order to place more weight behind the blow and to strike true in Lomen's exposed midsection. Lomen could do nothing but feel the impact crash into his body, shocking him to the core, causing some of his breath to escape him as the shock ravaged through him. Even so Zectoll had shown bravery in fighting him head on so Lomen did not regret his hasty decision. Although he still had to follow through to the end, even with no breath left in him, his body reeling in shock from the impact, Lomen still had something left to give. With his last strength, he let out a rallying roar, using the last of his breath to revitalize himself enough to turn his body and attempt a last left hook at Zectoll's midsection. Afterwards Lomen knew he would likely crash to the ground, with little strength left, but was happy that he could give it his all. This would be his last strike and he knew that after this he would not be able to get up for some time. It would be a bit painful to not be able to stand without help, but the bout was worth that consequence and he would accept his defeat.</s> <\|message\|>Luz Luz Luz heard that there was going to be a mock hunt between goblins Lomen and Kishi, and to be honested the idea of watching such an event sound awesome; Sadly Luz didn't have the time to watch such an event for she was one of the only goblins without a skill yet. In her mind to fall so far behind the other goblins was a disgrace. So the prideful goblin when into a quiet yet well-lit area to train alone. Once she found a place to train Luz took the spear off makeshift spear off her back and begin practicing on thrusting her spear for tomorrow's hunt. woosh woosh woosh The female goblin has been practicing thrust her weapon for about 5 minutes. her skin was drench in sweat. Her new body wasn't used yet used to the practice as her old was, that was something she had to fix. So she used her shame of falling behind as a drive to push her body past its limits. She wanted to perform about 20 more good thrust before she took a break, any thrust without the effort put behind it wouldn't count.</s>	<\|message\|>Skubli Skubli spent a few more minutes attempting to remove a couple more of the odd rocks from the walls, however, it was a fruitless effort. They remained fused inside the wall, unwilling to relent from their position within in the stone. The small goblin collected the three rocks he had managed to remove from the wall and moved over towards the larger room of the alcove. Skubli slid one of the rocks into a crevice in the wall, hiding it securely. He took the other two with him outside of the alcove, intending to keep one and show the other to Grandpa. The main room of the cave was live with activity; brothers Zectoll and Lomen battled ferociously in their "mock hunt" as many other goblins watched from the sidelines. A goblin with an odd form that Skubli didn't recognize dueled with an invisible opponent, thrusting their staff into the air again and again in a stabbing motion. Intimidated by the conflict, Skubli hugged the cave wall, passing by the crowds undetected, slowly sneaking up behind Grandpa. The runt reached out and tugged gently on the older Goblin's cloak, gaining his attention as he offered up the odd rock he had found in the wall. "Grandpa, I found this strange rock," He stated, unwilling to reveal the location of where he had discovered it for fear of the other Goblins wanting into his alcove. "It's very hard, maybe unbreakable. What is it?"</s>
<\|description\|>Stegs Gender: Male Appearance: Being no taller or shorter than the average goblin Stegs's distinguishing mark is the fact his skin color is bright green, similar to leafs in spring Personality: While not a lone wolf, Stegs does appreciate some privacy every now and then. He has no issues killing non intelligent animals, but prefers to avoid combat with sentient creatures. Though he will fight in either selfdefense or to protect other members of his colony/clan/tribe/whatever a group of goblins is called. Despite the dangers he prefers being out in the forest over staying in the cave, mostly because he likes all the different plants. He is industrious but has a tendency to get wrapped up in his pet projects, especially if he feels it can help the colony. Past Life History : Once in another world Stegs was a gardener named Danny Richards. One day while putting the finishing touches on a topiary turtle, the middle aged man suffered a fatal heart attack. when he opened his eyes again all memories of Danny Richard and that other world were gone. Skill: Stegs has basic instinctive knowledge on how to grow plants, or in other words he has both literally and figuratively green thumbs. Other (anything you think should be put up): I'm a Mighty Goblin EXP: 3/100 Inventory: * Stick (equipped) * Flower Petal Acquired Skills: * lesser medicine creation: learned how to make minor healing salves and medication powder. * Planting This skill was learned when he planted the berries into the ground. He gained lesser knowledge on how to plant and harvest low level plants. !Blessings gained!: * honor the fallen: Has a higher affinity with death</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen @Duoya@El Noche --- "Of course I will show you! However... I will decide where we go to hunt. After all, you have never been outside before right, Brother Zectoll? Here, this is yours now." It was nice to see how other goblins got along but it made Lomen feel somewhat lonely. Even though it would be nice to be a watcher of history and see people live their lives out, he would prefer to live with them. With this in mind he turned to leave before hearing someone approach, when he looked back he saw Goblin Zectoll eagerly standig nearby with his spear. Lomen showed a toothless smiled and listened to him with an open stance. You have tasted of death as well, like Goblin Kishi. Horned rabbits are fierce opponent yes, Goblin Lomen? Zectoll thinks that it is the horned rabbit who should worry about being impaledI am waiting on Goblin Kishi, he agreed to teach one such as I what he has learned of life and death. You also seem to have knowledge of life and death. Would you join our party as well? Lomen kept his smile but didn't show teeth while he took a moment to consider the option. Meanwhile he took the horn that he had gotten from the alpha and measured it against the spears horn. His was somewhat larger and this caused a toothy grin and almost dreadful feeling exhuming from Lomen before he stopped and put the horn back on his hip with the stick. "The horned rabbit is a fast opponent. It's legs is where its life lies, but once you take that away, even large ones will fall. It seems I killed a larger version of the rabbit, but I must admit that Goblin Kishi did encounter more rabbits than I. Could you lead us to a good hunting ground for horned rabbits? If so we could make a strategy before fighting them and I have a few ideas that could help us." Lomen then gave both Gblin Zectol and Kishi with some good berries he acquired yesterday. Even though he would have liked a snack before leaving, Zectol's stomach had growled earlier and Kishi faced the loss of two party members on the first hunt. Both could have negative influences on the hunt. "Also eat a bit before the hunt. Food is important for strength and life." Lomen took off the pelt and wrapped it into an over the shoulder strap for his shield as he walked towards the edge of the cave. While doing so, he straightened his back, making a few audible snapping sounds before continuing. For a short time you could see his spine protruding a bit like a mountainside along his back before it was quickly covered by the shield. "Kishi, whenever you are ready, let's head out to the hunt. And Zectol. . ." Lomen looked over at him with almost jovial eyes."I think the best teacher of life and death are the experiences of both. The life you live, and witnessing death, be it for good or bad." Afterwards Lomen put his hands together and gave a thanks to the gods for the opportunity to live another day. Lomen will be ready to leave with hunting party.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba 4 Winds@El Noche@Duoya -day two: the next hunt- The day would start again and a new hunt would begin as their leader goblin Kishi went to where he last saw his first goblin companions. What they soon found were two corpses that could only belong to the two goblins they were stripped to the bone the only thing identifying them as their companions were the equipment that was still on them. However before they could even get close to them their were two Black wolves feasting on the remains. Their leader was long gone but their were tracks leading to where they were going. The two wolves before them were obviously runts of the litter getting the scraps the stronger wolves left behind they were eating what was left of the two goblins. While they may be runts they were still wolves that could rip them to pieces should they try to go on the frontal assault they needed to be very careful if they were to live should they try to attack the wolves as revenge for their fallen comrades</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Kishi walked with fake confidence as he led the other two goblins down the path. The rabbit corpse was missing a leg, which was currently being eaten by the goblin. Even if he didn't have an appetite at the moment, he needed all the strength he could get. The pathway the followed was all too familiar to Kishi; his fear had made the moment retain perfect clarity in his memories. Kishi finished his small meal, storing the bone in his loincloth, next to his rock. He slowed down slightly as they approached the area, when Kishi noticed the two wolves in the distance. The mere sight of them caused Kishi's blood to boil, his vision briefly flaring red. He had to spend several seconds to resist the urge to simply jump on them. After all, running in without a plan was suicidal. He quickly looked around, taking in his surroundings. The pathway was a large path of beaten dirt, and blood littered the round everywhere. The two rabbit corpses were lying with the goblins, having been picked to the bone. Along the sides of the pathway were numerous bushes, allowing Kishi to quickly move behind them and motion for Zectoll and Lomen to do the same. Trees were abundant in the area, and blocked a decent amount of sunlight from reaching the ground. Kishi did not take this in as significant, however; even if the light was blocked enough to prevent sight, the wolves most likely had much more acute senses. The corpses (The sight of which caused Kishi to become slightly nauseous) were in the center of the road and the bones that showed were covered in bite marks. A plan slowly awoke in Kishi's mind, but it was risky. It could leave him severely wounded, if not dead should it be performed without proper timing. Despite this, however, he decided to silently voice his plan to the goblins. "Here is my plan: I will climb one of the trees and, once I am in position, you two will launch an attack from the back of the wolf furthest from my tree. As you do so, I will leap down onto the other wolf, skewering him to the ground." "If either of you can think of something that doesn't have a good chance of breaking my legs, however, please tell me." Despite saying the last part of his plan jokingly, the fear that had permeated him earlier was gone. In it's place, a cold vengeance washed over Kishi's being. ,@The 4 Winds,@El Noche</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen @Duoya@El Noche --- Lomen followed Kishi carefully, keeping track of him when they got to the wolves in case he needed to jump in to fight. Fortunately that was not the case. He took a moment to look over the fallen goblins and took a second to mill over the fact that the wolves who killed them were doing the same as they were, huntin to survive and grow. With this in mind Lomen sent a small prayer to the gods of beasts, death, and life for allowing him to see this early in life. When Kishi moved to the brush, Lomen silently followed and listened intently. Kishi's plan was good but Lomen still wanted to expand upon it for himself and Zectoll. "It sounds like a good plan Kishi, but a few points first. One, we make sure to attempt the tree attack from downwind. Second, I and Zectoll will attack to cut off the tracked route. And don't worry about the fall, the wolves look like a comfy landing. Lomen smiled showing his toothy grin that immediately went away as he realized that their was a possibility of Kishi missing his drop. "Ok. Lastly, Zectoll, stay behind me and be ready to back up Kishi in the case he misses the drop. Where I don't think that will be the case, I am the only one with any protection and Kishi may be left open if he misses the drop. I should be able to fend off one of the wolves long enough for you two to kill the other. Ready? If so lets get into position and above all. Stay alive." Lomen took a few hairs off of the rabbit pelt and let them fall to the ground, that would show where the wind was blowing and would establish where downwind actually is. He prepped his shield and decided the medium horn would be better for this hunt, since wounding the legs and neck would be critical to victory. Although in case of emergency, he still had the stick. Lomen is fully prepped for the hunt to begin and is waiting for others to get into position before the assault.</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Greedily, Zectoll consumed Lomen's berries and advice. The pleasantly sweet fruit calmed his starving stomach and the advice his fellow goblin gave produced a measure of confidence within him. The big eared goblin followed Kishi and Lomen out of the cave and into the forest. Zectoll observed his surroundings with awe, and a small measure of fear. For it was in this place, so green and full of life, that he and his fellow goblins would glean through lethal struggle the means to live another day. Zectoll clutched his spear tightly, treading softly on the forest floor as to not make a sound. His red goblin eyes peering intently into the surrounding forest, attempting to see some trace of horned rabbit. He wanted a similar trophy as Lomen, a wicked rabbit horn to call his own. Soon they had reached their intended destination, Kishi quickly motioning for them to take up positions as to ambush their intended prey. Zectoll obliged with haste, crouching low as he peered into the thicket. The sight of macabre scene of the two canines feasting on the remains of his kin shook Zectoll. His earlier confidence wavered. No longer was the concept of death simply an abstract idea in his head. For it was here before him, in the form of two black wolves. He did his best to hide his fear from Lomen and Kishi, his face showed an expression of calm. "Here is my plan: I will climb one of the trees and, once I am in position, you two will launch an attack from the back of the wolf furthest from my tree. As you do so, I will leap down onto the other wolf, skewering him to the ground." "If either of you can think of something that doesn't have a good chance of breaking my legs, however, please tell me." Zectoll was quite surprised by Brother Kishi's idea. It sounded quite risky. Zectoll glanced back at the wolves, taking note of their biting fangs. He then looked to his spear. For the wolf to do him harm, it would have to come quite close. But for Zectoll, the biting point of his spear was far away from his own body. He knew that he had the advantage in regards to reach, Kishi as well being similarly armed as he. He perhaps thought it would be best, if the three made a formation, with Lomen in the middle shield up, Kishi and Zectoll on each flank. Together they would ambush and corral one of the wolves, hoping to finish the kill quickly before the second wolf could come to into the fight. But Zectoll kept his thoughts to himself, as this was his first hunt. He would go along with whatever plan Lomen and Kishi came up with. Zectoll nodded at Lomen at Kishi and quietly got into position to ambush the wolf beneath tree. He watched the wolf eating, and how it's chest and stomach undulated as it ate and breathed. Deciding the life of the wolf lay in that area of the body, Zectoll planned to impale the wolf in the side, attacking from its rear flank should brother Kishi miss or fail to kill the wolf off in one hit. Instinctively he knew that most of the power from his strike should come from his legs, and flow up into his arms. If the wolf turned on him, he would take up and defensive stance using the length of the spear to keep the wolf at bay so that Kishi could finish it off. Though if Kishi's attack struck true, Zectoll would immediately rush to aid Lomen utilizing quick jabs aimed at the wolf's legs, and using the length of his spear to keep the wolf at bay. 4 winds @Duoya @El Noche Zectoll is ready to strike</s>	<\|message\|>Stegs Stegs knew full well the risks that came with going out in to the forest alone, in no small part thanks to the injury he received the other day, but he felt it would be unfair to ask any of the others to help him look for what might be well inedible berries even if they were the ones he wanted. Since he was going from memory Stegs picked a few berries of every bush he came across and left a small symbol of whatever items he could find on the forest floor to mark the bushes he tried. He ran into issues carrying the berries pretty fast seeing as he only had one free hand. He wondered if he should go back to the cave and drop his loot off there but quickly decided against it, not only would make it take much longer to collect more berries he might accidentally end up poisoning his brothers and sisters. He sat down for a while to ponder his dilemma and stopped paying attention to his surroundings.</s>
<\|description\|>Stegs Gender: Male Appearance: Being no taller or shorter than the average goblin Stegs's distinguishing mark is the fact his skin color is bright green, similar to leafs in spring Personality: While not a lone wolf, Stegs does appreciate some privacy every now and then. He has no issues killing non intelligent animals, but prefers to avoid combat with sentient creatures. Though he will fight in either selfdefense or to protect other members of his colony/clan/tribe/whatever a group of goblins is called. Despite the dangers he prefers being out in the forest over staying in the cave, mostly because he likes all the different plants. He is industrious but has a tendency to get wrapped up in his pet projects, especially if he feels it can help the colony. Past Life History : Once in another world Stegs was a gardener named Danny Richards. One day while putting the finishing touches on a topiary turtle, the middle aged man suffered a fatal heart attack. when he opened his eyes again all memories of Danny Richard and that other world were gone. Skill: Stegs has basic instinctive knowledge on how to grow plants, or in other words he has both literally and figuratively green thumbs. Other (anything you think should be put up): I'm a Mighty Goblin EXP: 3/100 Inventory: * Stick (equipped) * Flower Petal Acquired Skills: * lesser medicine creation: learned how to make minor healing salves and medication powder. * Planting This skill was learned when he planted the berries into the ground. He gained lesser knowledge on how to plant and harvest low level plants. !Blessings gained!: * honor the fallen: Has a higher affinity with death</s> <\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll --- Day 4: The mantled one As Zectoll felt the weight of the spear leaving his hands he felt as if a path had been closed off from him. A destiny different from the one in which a spear wield Zectoll would inhabit, a reality he would now never know. "Thank you Brother Zectoll, I hope my weapon has served you well. I am glad to see that you have created your own weapons! Maybe you'll take after me? Ha Ha Ha! But... Why did you name the weapon? It isn't really my place to ask, but a weapon is a tool, not something that is deserving of a name." Zectoll thought for a moment, and then merely shrugged. He could not find the words to convey what he felt. That the naming of the weapon was more of a declaration of intent, a capitalization of his hope and desire for a particular future. With the matter of the bones settled, and his spear in the hands of goblin Luz, Zectoll was satisfied. Zectoll looked about the cave, observing the various goblins going about their day. He noticed Brother Lomen speaking with Grandpa and later motioning him over to the back of the cave. Earlier Zectoll had noticed something going back there, covered in a black material. He had recalled days earlier, during his tormented time that there was such a creature in the cave. A creature that rarely came out from under it's black covering. He wasn't sure if this being that shared the cave with them was a goblin, or something else entirely, as he had never spoken to it nor gleamed a glimpse of what it looked like underneath its black mantle. Zectoll sauntered over to Lomen cautiously, and peaked into the alcove. You called for me Brother Lomen? The alcove seemed to have become somewhat of a living space for the mantled one. Not wanting to intrude Zectoll took several steps back. Greetings mantled one, I am the goblin known as Zectoll. Zectoll was interested in finding out the nature of this being. 4 winds @December</s> <\|message\|>Luz Luz @Jangel13@Duthguy Luz looked a bit surprised When Kishi decided to just give the spear to her, she wanted to learn how to make her own weapons so she would be a burden but it seems that this guy wanted to be the clan's blacksmith so he can increase his production skills. either way, she happily accepted the spear. "Thank you. I own you one" She told him nicely before grabbing her new weapon and practicing a jab "I'll see if i can find you some adhesive tomorrow if it stops raining." She told him. By giving him adhesive she can be repaid her debt to him. She also found the idea of using the barbs as protection an interesting idea. She's glad that she and Greg killed the flower the other day. She then moves to him to shake his hand. "I'm Luz by the way." She told him. Once she had the time Luz begins practicing jabbing with her new spear, she did so very violently.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs Stegs --- \|Having discussed what he wanted with Kishi Stegs decided to ask Luz if she wanted to help the day if it wasn't raining then. Since she was busy swinging her spear around he made sure to stay at a safe distance just in case. "I understand if you would prefer to hunt but do you think you have time to help me and hopefully drag that flower back here?" As soon as he had gotten her answer he went on to look for other goblins to assist with the task. After walking through the cave for a while he came across two goblins who were looking in a hole. He heard one of them talk about a "mantled one" which reminded him of Skubli. A quick peek inside revealed it almost had to be the smal goblin. Hey Skubli, is that you? If so do you think you can help me out with something tomorrow? It shouldn't be dangerous at all." @demonspade64@December</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - Noche@Duthguy@The 4 Winds --- The sudden arrival of three goblins made Skubli hesitant to move, nervous about the amount of attention he was receiving. He listened to each of their statements one by one and slowly crawled towards the entrance of the alcove, looking up in awe at the larger, stronger goblins. After hearing brother Lomen's request, he shook his head. "Skubli likes the way the rocks are." He stated matter-of-factly, hesitant to allow another Goblin into his private space. As brother Zectoll spoke, Skubli slowly poked his head out from underneath his mantle and gave a hint of a smile at his eloquent language, however it left the lesser Goblin feeling confused as to what exactly he meant. "I'm Skubli." Pausing for a moment, he considered his introduction carefully before continuing. "You can call me Skubli. Nice to meet you." Proud of his introduction and mastery over language, he moved on to focus on brother Stegs. "Skubli survived night outside of cave. Skubli can handle danger." The little Goblin nodded his head in affirmation to his own statement before continuing. "Skubli can help brother Stegs."</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Zectoll offered a shrug to Kishi, but he didn't really mind the indecisiveness. All that mattered to Kishi was that his brothers and sisters were safe, and if naming his weapon made Zectoll feel better, Kishi didn't mind.The young female goblin, Luz, seemed to enjoy the gift which Kishi had given her. Then again, it was less of a gift, and more of a type of insurance. It would surely be harder for her to die if she had an actual weapon, especially if she ever planned on hunting. Kinsih nodded towards the girl. "Thank you for the effort, Luz. If you succeed in finding an adhesive, I'll be sure to use it for you first!" Kishi really didn't have any expectations for the young goblin. After all, where would she even find an adhesive strong enough for what he needed? Despite this, Kishi was indeed grateful for the thought, and he made certain to craft anything she asks for extra well. After he had finished his conversation with both Luz and Stegs, Kishi returned to the crafting of his map, which was quite barren all things considered. While the cave itself was mapped out quite well, the only part of the outside of the cave that had been mapped with any clarity was the path that Isurta and Xaal had died. Kishi quickly made his way back towards the small corner that was his home, and placed the stone dagger he carved into the small crevice of the wall. After doing so, he simply sat and looked around his small area, observing all the small trinkets that he had gathered. Compared to many of the other goblins, he owned far more than them... Kishi laid on the wolf pelt, warming himself against the cold that the rain had brought. Kishi's thoughts soon returned to the pit and moat he planned to construct, and he quickly went to work constructing a shovel. Using a flat stone as a blade and another of the sticks as a shaft, Kishi quickly tied his new creation together and held it in the air. ...Before it came undone almost immediatly. Kishi really needed an adhesive, and badly. Without it, anything beyond the most basic of tools was impossible. Kishi laid back on his pelt, clutching the stick in his hand and staring at it for several seconds. As he did, he remembered the struggles he had been through. The animals he had hunted, the anger he felt towards the monsters, and how difficult it was to protect his kind. The cold, the raw meat... Then, like a lighting bolt, inspiration struck him. Quickly jumping to his feet, Kishi began to carve away at the stick with his knife, pulling off strands of bark as he did so. He nearly clipped his thumb twice, but in the end, he had a small collection of wood shavings and a sharpened piece of along with it. Not wasting any time, Kishi ran throughout the entire cavern, searching for a larger branch. After nearly 30 minutes of searching, Kishi finally found his prize, wedged near the back of the cavern. Quickly removing it, Kishi quickly made his way back to his collection of materials, carving a small groove into the larger branch as he did so. After making his way back, Kishi quickly laid the larger branch on the ground and grabbed the sharpened stick. Kishi lightly placed the small amount of shavings and strips of wood into the groove. After preparing himself, Kishi rapidly moved the stick between the groove, moving as fast as possible. In Kishi's mind, this told him that it would give him something he didn't even know of, a light that protected those who knew to use it, and harmed the ignorant. Kishi tried to make fire. In Kishi's mind, doubt began to rise. He didn't even know what fire looked like, and surely it couldn't be strong if it was merely made by rubbing sticks together. Besides, the way he moved was awkward and without any sense of rhythm... But his sense hasn't been wrong before, and Kishi was willing to risk it. At it's worst, Kishi would come out of this with a few splinters, blisters, and a hurt pride. @Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Shiba 4 Winds Grandpa sighed a bit but smiled as the young one asked him to teach him how to make leather bags out of the skin of the rabbit and wolf. "Okay but this it the last question you get to ask for the day. To start off with you need to...... and then the goblin went on explaining how to treat the skin and how to connect the leather together and so force showing him how to make a basic bag. Goblin Lomen has learned: Crafting the goblin now knows how to make basic leather items. --- @El Noche@Duthguy The two goblins one a brute force fighter and another goblin somewhat secretive yet small. They both introduced themselves to each other and the question is will they become brothers or will they resent each other. Soon it was Stegs who came over to see the so called mantled one by Zectoll and asking him to help him perform a task. Then Skubli said that because he survived the night outside the cave that he could handle danger. This statement was something that one wouldn't expect from someone so small but he would be dead if he was lying. --- -FireStarter- The goblin kishi was thinking alone on top of his pelt when he had an epiphany he then went work grabbing shavings of wood and when he gathered his materials he started to rub two sticks together on a groove. After a while it almost seemed like his plan was in vain but then smoke started to rise from the groove. He kept rubbing when he thought their was hope and after another few precious moments a small flame appeared. He followed his idea and then started to blow on the small flame trying to get it started and before long Kishi did it flame appeared. Goblin kishi was no longer just the crafter he was then the fire starter. Goblin Kishi: The goblin has learned Fire crafting the goblin now learned the secret of creating fire! Goblin Kishi has also earned the title The Fire Starter</s> <\|message\|>Luz Luz Luz then stopped for a second to answer him. "Sure I'll help you as soon as your ready." She told Steg before strap her new spear on her back and following him to Skubli who was pretty much bragging about sleeping out the cave once. "Wow that should pretty brave." Luz said sounding proud of him. "I have to try that sometime." Luz told them so casually. Yes Luz knew the risks and yet she wanted the bragging right.</s>	<\|message\|>Stegs Stegs was impressed to hear that Skubli survived a night in the forest, and a bit jealous. What he knew about the forest was despite the dangers a lot more to his liking, but he doubted he could handle being out there in the darkness by himself, the now fully healed semi-selfinflicted injury he received on his first and so far only hunt was proof of that. He decided to focus on other things like the berries. He might not be cut out to be a hunter with but any luck he might have a future making medicine and maybe growing food other than meat. When he passed Grandpa Stegs heard the older goblin say that that was the last question he was gonna answer for his current pupil. Seeing his change he collected al the berries he had collected the other day along with the flower petal and headed over to their tribe's elder, in order to both ask his own question and hopefully as a bonus pick up a few bits from the current lesson.</s>
<\|description\|>Kishi. Gender: Male. Appearance: Kishi is taller than the average goblin, standing at an impressive 4 foot 3 inches. He has a thick head of oily black hair and currently wears a tattered loincloth. His eyes are lime green, which are the same color as his skin. Kishi has a hooked nose, which shares a striking similarity to a beak. He stands up straight and has a very civilized air about him. Personality: Kishi is warm and kind, always ready to lend a hand. He does not share anything personal unless people ask and he doesn't want to bother anyone with his problems. Kishi has a strong sense of morals, refusing to do anything that is unhonorable or hurts innocent people. He has a strong sense of justice, and will protect those who are weaker than him. Kishi has a distaste for those who would lie or cheat him, but his sense of justice extends to his enemies as well. Enemies who promise to change their ways are almost always guaranteed to avoid his wrath, which can backfire easily. He also has an obsession over a small rock he found, constantly feeling for it and checking to make sure it is safe. The rock is light blue, smooth, and not magical in any way. He would fly into a rage and use everything he has available to get it back if he ever lost it. He also is obsessed about making things as efficient as possible. Past Life History: Kishi was once known as Dana White, future engineer and plane crash survivor. As a child, Dana played in the forest with a wooden sword and studied to enter a good university. At the age of 18, he graduated top of his class, and it was clear that he was on the path towards greatness. Unfortunately, on the flight to his new university, his plane crashed on a remote island, killing everyone but himself. He spent the next 6 years fighting to stay alive. He rarely wasted anything he found, making all of his weapons and tools. The only reason he died was because of a particularly cruel winter. The next time he opened his eyes, he was much smaller and had no memory of his past life. Starting Skill: Kishi is talented at crafting. Other: Kishi is right-handed and has a light hoarding problem. I'm a mighty goblin. EXP: 68 Inventory: Boar Tusk Halberd (Equipped), Kishi's Stone, Horned rabbit skeleton, 28 Rabbit Teeth, Loincloth (Equipped), Sharpened Stone Blade, Small Rabbit Horn, wolf pelt. Acquired Skills: Escape: The ability to escape from a stronger opponent more easily. Precise Strike: The ability to aim a strike at a vulnerable point, ignoring enemy armor. Intimidation: The ability to display a strong front and force the weaker creatures to back down. Depending on evolution can cause paralysis in weaker creatures Charge: Causes major damage to the enemy. Requires the user to be moving at max speed and has a high chance of missing. Trap-Making Beginner: Can create pit traps and snares. Fire Crafting: The secret of creating fire. Titles: The Fire Starter Blessings: Honor the Fallen: Higher affinity with death. Curses: Chained Grief: Weakness to psychological effects and a constant fear of death. Allows easier transition into the Death or Hooded class.</s> <\|message\|>Skubli - Skubli - @Heyitsjiwon @Jangel13 --- As Stegs floundered about the fish, Skubli took a more subtle approach. He grabbed a few smooth river stones and began stalking his prey. Once they swam near to Lothar, the runt threw the stone into the air and submerged himself in the water. He immediately swum at the fish, scaring it away from him. As the aquatic prey fled, the stone landed in the stream where Skubli had thrown it. It landed on the other side of the fish, trapping it between the stone and Skubli. Scared by both disturbances, the fish fled in the general direction that Skubli desired, however he could never seem to get it to work as he wanted, and as a result Lothar was not provided with very many targets. While swimming beneath the calm waters, Skubli heard a voice speaking above the waters. It was distorted through the waves, but before Skubli could surface, a brilliant glow entered the waters. Startled by the new development, Skubli dove to the bottom of the stream and hid himself within the rocks. Peering out, he could see a line of rainbow-fluorescent fish swimming through the waters, displaying a dazzling light that left Skubli awestruck. After what seemed to be an eternity, Skubli felt pain in his chest as he hadn't had any air to breath. Forcing himself to ignore his trepidation towards the new creatures, Skubli surfaced, inhaling deeply as he broke the water. After a small bout of coughing, he turned to the other Goblins, who also watched the fish. "What are they?" Skubli couldn't keep a small quiver out of his voice, however he doubted the others noticed.</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen --- Lomen looked at Grandpa Goblin and nodded his head to show acknowledgement of the wisdom. He began picking out the yellow berries from the bunch he had gathered on his way home and sat down next to Grandpa goblin. Lomen presented the Alpha horned rabbit body and bowed one his hands and knees. "I know it is a lot to ask after being given advice about the berries, but please teach me how to skin this rabbit." In his previous life, Lomen had never before skinned an animal and as such had no experience with it. If he was to survive, it would be best to collect all he could from the area around him, be it wisdom, food, or materials. In order to become stronger and acquire more skills, Lomen believed that he would have to make as many good connections with those that are alive in the clan and strive to better himself as much as possible every day.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs @Jangel13 @Heyitsjiwon --- While the rainbow colored fish were pretty, and their scales would no doubt be useful for making jewelry if they ever felt like it, the setting sun made Stegs nervous. Wanting to avoid any more injuries to himself and any injuries at all to the other two he wondered if they should back to the cave. Staying out at night might be doable after they had gotten stronger. Besides though he hadn't taken the time to see how many fish Lothar had speared he was sure it would be enough to convince Grandpa to look at his injury and hopefully leave some food over for themselves. If it wasn't Stegs would try and make sure the other two at least would have something to eat since they went through all this trouble on his suggestion. "Don't know, pretty though. Still it might be better to go back."</s> <\|message\|>Shiba 4 Winds -how to skin- Grandpa goblin was relaxing against the wall of the cave until he soon saw the little one known as Lomen come over and bowed before presenting him with an alpha horned rabbit. Grandpa had to admit he was a little impressed that he was able to catch an alpha on his first day out hunting. He then asked about how to properly skin a rabbit and while he was opposed to teaching more then the essentials he decided he would be nice for a price. Grandpa went and grabbed a few berries from the little one and said "Nothing comes free" he said simply before he took the rabbit and put it on the ground to show him how to properly skin the rabbit. When he was done he presented the finished skin to the goblin. skill gained Lesser Skinning</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen --- Lomen paid intent attention to the skinning and learned the skill to do so. After a few moments of milling over what to do with the pelt, Lomen ripped the right hind leg and sat next to Grandpa Goblin. He then offered the hind leg to Grandpa Goblin and started eating. Mind telling a young goblin more about this world? In truth he wanted to know more about the monsters and possible ways to acquire abilities. Though after a good first day hunting, he would just be happy to have a regular conversation. Grandpa Goblin was wise due to being alive longer and would be a wealth of knowledge. For a moment Lomen pondered what morals he should follow in this life and decided that would be done later, as of now he was a bit tired. He resolved to figure out a few morals before heading out tomorrow. If anything, it would be better to live a short life true to himself rather than regret a long life of mistakes so finding out morals was a must. Satisfied with his thoughts, Lomen returned his full attention to Grandpa Goblin, still offering the leg and eating the rest of the alpha horned rabbit.</s> <\|message\|>Stegs @December@Heyitsjiwon --- As pretty as those fish looked both Stegs and Skubli had decided they wanted to head back to the cave. While not too sure about what Lothar wanted Stegs found a two to one majority enough to act on and headed back to the shore to grab the remains of the Horned Rabbit, which he wanted to bring back as proof of a successful hunt in case their third member either refused to come along or had failed to catch any of the fish.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba @December@Heyitsjiwon -On their way back- The three goblins had agreed to head back to their cave and be ready for the next day instead of staying out after dark. Their decision was wise but they will still think about those beautiful fish that's shined brighter then anything they have ever seen. As they left they could hear the growl of a bear thankfully the fish was distracting them allowing them to easily slip away from the bear as it hunted for its fish dinner. --- 4 Winds -The wise Goblin- Grandpa goblin watched as the young goblin gave him a piece of the young ones kills and he had to admit that he was intrigued this young one not only gave him food but wanted him to teach her about the world around them. He had to admit that it was odd considering the previous generations didn't take his wisdom seriously of course that lead to many death but it was different. He took the hind leg the young one offered then started to think about what to tell the young one. If anything he was a caretaker and only left the cave in his younger years but he could tell him a bit more about what was waiting for him on the outside. "Seems only fair to tell you a bit since you gave me part of your kill. I will tell you about what you can expect to find out their in the world. To begin with you have these rabbits to kill they are the easiest to kill yet some goblins never survive their first hunt with one let alone against an alpha like this one. Be mindful of one thing though the farther you travel from this cave the more dangerous creatures you will find that can easily kill you if your not strong enough to handle the fight. If nothing else don't forget this Prepare for every eventuality anything can happen and anything can kill you if your not careful" he warned thinking that would be enough in exchange for the meal but he wouldn't mind talking a bit more. So rarely does he have one of the young ones so interested in his wisdom.</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen --- Lomen listened eagerly and even if no specifics were given, Grandpa goblin still gave him sound advice that would help him stay alive. " Prepare for every eventuality " This specifically resonated within him and as such, would make sure to prepare what he could for himself before leaving the cave for a hunt in the future. " Thank you Elder, I will remember your words. Rest easy. I am going to sleep now and will see you in the morning. " With that Lomen finished the rest of his rabbit and went to a nice spot near the wall. He put the pelt under his head like a pillow and laid the shield over his torso to act like a blanket. As he tried to sleep he milled over the rabbit's movements and ways of fighting them, since it would most certainly be a good source of food in the days to come.</s>	<\|message\|>Kishi. Things were going amazingly. Kishi had three kills under his belt, two new friends, and plenty of supplies for his tinkering. Nothing felt like it could go wrong. This was without a doubt, the happiest moment in Kishis' short life. The sun was slowly setting, the trees blew in the wind, and a faint metallic scent followed the strong gale. A low, barely audible growl also roes to meet his ears. Before he could even register what had occurred, Isurta's neck was being dug into by some furry creature's fangs, blood squirting to stain the already crimson grass. They then began to consume the comparatively small rodent that the goblins had all felled earlier. Kishi didn't even have time to scream, before his legs dragged him away from the horrible event. Some primal, unconscious thing had awoken inside him, and it had only a single goal in mind. Survival --- By the time Kishi returned to the mouth of the cave, the sun had just disappeared down the horizon, and his legs had finally given out. He had run for what felt like an eternity, and his legs refused to hold his small weight any longer. He sighed in relief, as the voice in his head, a once helpful and intellectual entity, ringed out in his head. Wolf Kishi laid in astonishment at the entrance of his home, before breaking out into a chuckle. This soon evolved into a howling laughter, fueled by a horrible and all encompassing sense of dread. Just as abruptly as it began, however, it ceased. Xaal was no where in sight. --- Kishi made his way back to his corner of the cave, directly next to the hole in the wall where he had stored his spears. He sluggishly tied the horn of his rabbit onto the tip of his spear, storing the old head into the hole apathetically. He was too tired to make anything right now. He slowly set to work, searching for a large stone. He had no idea why, but something told him that this was the right thing to do.</s>
<\|description\|>Lomen Gender: Male Appearance: A notable physical difference is that he has a somewhat thinner build than most of his kin. as a result, his spine protrudes out almost like spikes lining his back. Other than that his skin and eyes have a medium grey tint similar to a storm cloud. Personality: Lomen prefers to be a hard worker and will genuinely put effort into his goals. For the most part he is easygoing, but not the best when it comes to social niceties, coming off as rather blunt. Lomen doesn't mind working alone, but enjoys relaxing with others as he would feel lonely without some social time. He prefers the truth over dancing around questions and trust with people over time. Where he is open to meeting and depending on others, he prefers to have the ability to be self reliant. He believes this allows him to not only be free to do what he believes is right, but also to help those around him without dragging anyone down. Past Life History: Lomen grew up in a healthy family that always found pride in working a shipping company. Because of this, Lomen gained a wealth of stamina and resistance to fatigue as he continuously worked for his future benefit. Although this didn't sit well with his elder brother. Due to the strenuous work, his elder brother rebelled against their parents time and time again, usually resulting in physical punishment. After years of it, he ran away into the streets of their hometown. Lomen was concerned for who he considered his only friend at the time and searched through their city till he found his brother. It was a dark alleyway and his brother occupied a dumpster next to a busy road. Lomen desperately tried to bring his brother back home, but in the process was knocked away by his brother into the street. The last thing he remembers is looking up into the light of a big rig before everything turned dark. Skill: - Increased endurance: Stage. 1: Is a hard worker and has the mental fortitude to continue on even when exhausted. - Heavy strike: stage. 2: Able to cause damage to weak armors like leather. - Gathering: stage. 1 - Lesser Skinning: stage. 1 - Evasion: stage. 1: Has a higher understanding of strikes can better avoid deadly attacks - Challenge: Stage. 1: This move is used when the goblin creates a battle cry roaring at the opponent and makes the enemy focus solely on him. While this may seem like a dangerous move if used correctly can create a perfect ambush as being bait. -Crafting Stage. 1: The goblin now knows how to make basic leather items. - All or nothing: Stage. 1: This move can only be used when the goblin is close to loosing a fight this skill increases his strike power immensely for his next strike against his enemy, however if the attack should miss or does not connect the goblin will loose all the strength to fight. - Tactician Stage. 1: This goblin learned throughout his fight how to strike and where to strike when to strike. This skill is a passive skill allowing the goblin to analyze the opponents movement and can calculate attacks accordingly. This skill can be enhanced multiple times till the goblin is a strategic genius. - Shrine to the fallen the goblin learned how to create a shrine to honor the goddess of death and give tribute to her. Inventory - Bark Shield - Branch - Alpha Medium Horn - Small leatehr bag - Black wolf short/armor - Stamp boar tusk Blessings - Honor the fallen Has learned to honor those that die, as a result gains a higher affinity with death - Homage to the Cycle This blessing is gives the goblin a better understanding of the food chain and as such is alerted when an animal that could eat them is nearby. - Notice from the earth the goblin has learned the name of the god of earth and can identify usable metals and rocks - Notice from the hunter the goblin has learned the name of the god of the hunt and can upgrade their hunting skills faster - Notice from the Dead one the goblin has learned the name of the god of death and can perform proper burial services - Deaths favor The goblin has seen the burial of death and performed it himself properly. The goddess of death has taken notice and can now be contacted if given proper tribute. Curses - Chained Grief Chained grief now follows the goblins and death is now a permanent fear in their minds: Each are weaker to psychological attacks but now understand death better and as such gain more influence into joining the Death or Hooded class Other: I'm a Mighty Goblin Lomen always enjoyed the light, thunder, and wind of storms EXP: 65</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Lomen gave his approval, and then began to speak with Grandfather about something. Kishi was too preoccupied with traveling around the cave, delivering the good news of the boar and returned to find Lomen giving out the boar to all of the inhabitants of the cave. As Kishi noticed that Lomen was giving the meat to the new-born and less-able first, he smiled. After all, those were the people who deserved it most, and Kishi knew how dangerous it could be out in the wilderness. For those that could not brave it, all that remained were bugs that scattered across the cavern floor, and the philanthropy of the stronger inhabitants. Kishi felt sick as he reached his small corner of the cave. The large rock, which he had planned to use for the gravestone of his fallen companions, lied in wait for his return. The stone stood as a monument. It represented the struggle he has so far overcome for survival, and the sacrifice that he has already made, even in his few days of life. His companions were in the ground, he knew that. He was the one to bury them. The fear of death had implanted himself in that moment, but it was no longer the dominatrix of his mind. That title was currently claimed by a silent, almost serene sense of peace. He had overcome the challenges thus far. He was strong. Using the newly upgraded halberd at his disposal, he carved into the large rock. Kishi Kishi bent down and attempted to remove the pelt of his rabbit corpse cleanly. Even if he failed, he would still to devour the meat that stuck to it's bones. That would sate the hunger he had developed after felling the great boar. Kishi planned to ask for the date of his birth from either Grandfather, or one of the elder goblins. After all, what kind of gravestone doesn't have a birth date? Kishi laid down on the cold floor, and began to contemplate using a pelt to keep his body warm on these cold nights. Kishi's eyes closed, and he entered into a dreamless slumber. --- The sound of light tapping and a chill awoke Kishi the next morning. The cavern was far colder than it had been the previous night, and the humidity was at least twice as high. A soft pitter-patter echoed throughout the confines of the cave, and a walk to the enterance revealed what appeared to be a torrent of some substance was raining down from the heavens themselves! Kishi reached for his spear, believing a threat has posed itself to the cave, before a sense of calm passed over him. This was normal. The voice rung out throughout his mind, presenting the young goblin with information. Rain. Grandfather's voice soon pierced the cavern, and alerted the inhabitants if the dangers that the outside proposed. Kishi, following the words of his elder, began to make way towards the goblin, before Lomen began a conversation with the wise one. Kishi, deciding that butting in would be rude, simply moved to one of the goblins who was fully grown already. Having spotted one who looked fairly old, Kishi walked up to him and voiced his question. "Excuse me, brother, but do you know what day it is? I need the information, and grandfather is busy." As soon as the request ended, however, a goblin with bright green skin that almost burned the eyes walked up to Kishi, carrying a single blue petal. The goblin, whom Kishi had finally realized was named Brother Stegs, seemed to want Kishi's input on the matter. Of course, Kishi knew he had a slight reputation in the cavern. He was the person who created arguably the strongest weapon in the entire cave, and he also supplied equipment to several goblins. But top think that another one of his kind would come to him in search of aid was somewhat... questionable. Regardless, the goblin was asking a favor, and Kishi would, if nothing else, cement his position in the cavern as a creator if he agreed. Kishi softly took the petal into his own hands, examining every angle he could. "Hmm... If we attached it to something like gloves, it would provide for a much better grip on items. Or, we could do the same with a buckler or shield, creating a weapon as well as a defensive device. If we had enough, we would easily be capable of creating traps of the material that would be able to trap smaller prey in it's barbs... This is all theoretical, of course. As of now, we could probably make a bag or storage container, but for anything else I mentioned, we would need a proper adhesive." Kishi finished the quick listing, and returned to his normal breathing. The trap he had mentioned before would be useful for small prey, and would definitely be easier to create and maintain than a pitfall, but a pitfall could catch much largere prey and was theoretically a permanent trap. You needed to simply dig a very large hole, place spike sticks or stones on the bottom, and layer over it with weak sticks and leaves. Then, you simply replace the sticks, covering, and bait whenever you catch anything, and voila; a somewhat sustainable supply of meat. Of course, a snare would also suffice for small prey, but i offered the worst of both worlds, requiring both a constant maintenance, and also the need to replace bait. Kishi handed the petal back to the young goblin, before making another remark. "Tomorrow, I plan to begin construction on a pit trap. As such, I will be unable to accompany you on your retrieval for the petals. But, as long as you bring me the necessary supplies, I can build you anything you wish. Just remember: to build anything grand, we will need a far more advanced adhesive than what I am currently in possession of-" Kishi stresses this statement by pointing out the dingy cloth which held the boar tusk to his staff. "Until then, I am fairly limited in my options. I apologize again, brother Stegs." After having several more seconds of idle chitchat, Kishi turns to a random wall of the cavern, both carving his stone spear head into a dagger, and also creating a basic outline for his long-term plan of protection, an idea originally sparked from the rain itself: A moat. @Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Shiba 4 Winds Knowledge- Grandfather was sitting on a rock nearby when he saw the young one come over giving him a piece of meat that was still left over from last night and he accepted taking small bites to make it last longer. He soon heard his request wanting to know about everything he had to admit he was happy seeing one so thirsty for knowledge at such a young age. He needed to be careful because otherwise this young pup might become even wiser then him and that made him laugh a bit not at the idea of being dethroned but at the idea that he could leave someone with his knowledge after all he knew he was old. Grandpa leaned back to think on his questions before he would answer them in order. "Young one their is no such thing as to much knowledge so long as I am fed I will give you young ones advice for a long while. So first about the gods, I know of them but I am no priest. Their is first Agrithor the god of the earth he is the one who give us rain, sunlight, and the plants that flourish outside this cave he is benevolent god and one that many alchemists follow for he supplies the ingredients for their potions. Second is Sargosa god of the hunt he is actually seen as a large beast though which I don't know he is the one that hunters pray to for he dictates how fruitful the hunt may be and if one survives against a stronger predator. He is a wild god and does not seem as benevolent or outwardly vengeful. Then finally their is Izanami the goddess of death she is said to be dressed in black rags and wears a white mask that clashes with her dark form they say its because underneath is a face that would kill you if you weren't already dead. She resides over those that pass on and she is the one who decides who goes when. Their are more gods im sure but those are the one 3 I know by both name and what they hold dominion over. He said with a sigh thinking about how death took the young ones Isurta and Xaal far to soon but their was no use crying about it. goblin Lomen gained blessings: * Notice from the earth the goblin has learned the name of the god of earth and can identify usable metals and rocks * notice from the hunter the goblin has learned the name of the god of the hunt and can upgrade their hunting skills faster * Notice from the Dead one the goblin has learned the name of the god of death and can perform proper burial services --- Noche The goblin as he worked on the brand new weaponry he later dubbed fist fangs he was then given knowledge that would no doubt help him. As he put the new weapons on his fist he was then bombarded with unknown knowledge that showed him punches and kicks of unarmed combat. Although if this was because of his mindset making him into a fiercer hunter or if the god of the hunt took an interest in the goblin one couldn't tell. Once the knowledge was gone he was then able to understand how to throw a proper punch with his new weapons. Goblin Zectoll learned: crafting beginner, Also learned unarmed fighting beginner the goblin has learned how to use his fist to throw a jab properly more knowledge is needed to be a proper unarmed fighter --- @Duoya As the goblins discussed how to properly use the petals they soon got onto the subject of traps and this knowledge was given before the proper skill was gained. Goblin Stegs and kishi: Both have learned Trap making beginner with any good hunter their exists the need to create better way to hunt without expending the energy to go out everyday to do so. They have learned how to make pit fall traps and snares to hunt both large and small animals.</s>	<\|message\|>Lomen Lomen listened with intent and repeated the names of the gods and what they reigned over. After a few moments of repeating the names and locking them into his memory, Lomen focused back onto Grandpa Goblin and munched a bit on the bones he had brought over. "Then what of the beasts of this world? I have only seen the rabbit, wolf, and boar so far but there must be more. What are these creatures and are there any that are much more dangerous than the common breed?" Lomen remembered a similar question being asked by Zectoll and had been pondering what the answer could be. Hopefully Grandpa Goblin could enlighten him. As he thought this he looked around and saw a new Goblin talking with Kishi and Zectoll practicing with some fanged gloves. Lomen smiled. "It is good to see the others making progress." The smile quickly faded as he realized he hadn't made anything for himself yet and had only what was given to him by his hunts and Agrithor the god of the earth. With that small point hitting home, he refocused again onto Grandpa Goblin with eyes hungry for Knowledge.</s>
<\|description\|>Zectoll Gender: Male Appearance: Zectoll is a goblin of average height and build. What distinguishes him from his brethren is peculiarly large and pointy ears, and his large wide mouth filled with gleaming white teeth. Zectoll almost always has a self amused grin on his face. Personality: Zectoll is a goblin who gives off the appearance of being calm, collected, and self amused. Zectoll does not like to show mental emotional weakness, dealing with tragedy and loss with dark humor. Zectoll is highly driven and disciplined when it comes to accomplishing the goals that he has set for himself. It is in the furtherance of these goals that the calm collected aspect of Zectoll's personality gives way to burning passion. In times of challenge or conflict Zectoll often gets fired up into a frenzy, giving his all to the task at hand. He enjoys undertaking a mighty challenge, not only for material rewards but also the glory of overcoming the odds. For Zectoll there is no right or wrong, there is only victory or defeat. All things are permitted in the pursuit of victory, save betraying his friends and family. Zectoll is a very loyal to those he calls friends, and will go to great lengths to help them. To him, there is little point in acquiring wealth and glory if there is no one to share and revel in it with. Past Life History: In his past life Zectoll was a man known as Leon Tracy, also known as Lucky Ace. He grew up a poor street urchin, getting by from pick pocketing, thievery, and shell games. As he grew older he became proficient in many card tricks, cons, and various other games gamblers play. Thus he went through life as a professional gambler, cheating his way into the pockets of unsuspecting marks. Eventually he and his friends put together a thriving business with all their ill gotten cash. Ace would meet his demise from alcohol poisoning during a night of binge drinking in celebration of the success he and his friends had found in their business ventures. Birth Skill: Physical Adroitness - Zectoll is quick and skillful in body, possessing a great measure of readiness and grace in physical activity; especially in skill and ease in using the hands. Acquired Skills Savage Strike: a very violent attack, savage strike not only causes heavy damage to the target but can scare the enemies around them. At higher levels can cause fear from other enemies. Predator Stance:the predetor stance is a permanent ability that can be switched on or off by the goblin. The stance gives the goblin muffled movement and ambush bonus when not detected before attacking. Much like a predator that silently gets closer to its prey before it strikes with ferocity. unarmed fighting beginner: the goblin has learned how to use his fist to throw a jab properly more knowledge is needed to be a proper unarmed fighter crafting beginner Adrenaline Surge! This goblin grinning widely and using superior speed and power to win against his opponent learned this enhancement skill. This skill can only be used when the goblin is fighting an opponent equal or stronger them himself, Adrenaline surge allows this goblin to enhance his speed and his strength incredibly. However once the fight is finished the goblin will automatically have his adrenaline surge stop forcing him to feel every ache and pain he experienced till its conclusion. CounterstrikeThis skill was learned when the goblin was able to strike his opponent despite the attack that was used against him by his opponent. This skill is a passive skill allowing the goblin to judge how he can attack his enemy while avoiding the full force of his opponents attack. Blessings -Honor the fallen Has learned to honor those that die, as a result gains a higher affinity with death Curses -Chain of Grief Chained grief now follows the goblins and death is now a permanent fear in their minds: Each are weaker to psychological attacks but now understand death better and as such gain more influence into joining the Death or Hooded class Other: Zectoll has a great fondness for organ meat, for it's spongy texture. Zectoll also has a great fondness of blood, for it's metallitc taste and deep red luster. Equipment -Stone Spear -Alpha Rabbit Horn -Alpha Rabbit pelt -Dirty Loincloth -Fist Fang - A primitive knuckle weapon made from cloth and wolf bones. I am a mighty Goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Lomen Lomen @El Noche@Duoya@December@Heyitsjiwon --- Lomen allowed for the service to finish before approaching each make-ship gravestone and getting onto his knees to send a short personal prayer for each of them. He spend a good few minutes looking at the stones and decided to give thanks to those who were almighty. "For the gods above and below, thank you. I thank you for this chance at life and to live as free as my will can allow. I thank you for the water, the earth, the warmth of light, the cool of shade, and the wind from the sky. I thank you for your lessons of the danger and rewards I have seen thus far. Above all else, thank you all for creating this world I live in. Please do guide me so that I may lead my allies into places of well being and to live a truthful life. I hope to make you proud." When he finished his thanks to the gods above, he felt refreshed mentally. He wasn't sure if they truly existed, but it felt like a good thing to do in order to remind himself that he indeed is astonishingly lucky to have this life when two others had it snatched away before even a week alive. With that finished, he took a moment to stretch out and get ready for the hunt. He wore the pelt of the rabbit over his chest, as to cover some of his upper front and back. Some protection is better than nothing, even if it is only a pelt. Standing up, Lomen went to the entrance of the cave and looked back in at the optimistic goblin. "Just be careful not to get impaled by a horned rabbit. They move pretty fast. I am going to head out as well, you and anyone else willing to hunt are welcome to join me." Lomen did not mind having to hunt alone, but it would be nice to have someone to help. If anything it increased his chances of survival as well as the other goblins.</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. Numerous hours were spent, scouring the cave for just the appropriate stone. Kishi planned to build a similar structure for Xaal if he did not return by tomorrow, but the search compelled him to find the stone. He clutched his own stone in his hands, just as he found a stone, roughly half his height. The rock he had found weighed nearly as much as he did, and it too multiple hours to drag it back to his corner of the cavern. Just as he managed to pull it there, he quickly fell asleep, not even eating the rabbit he had caught that night. It felt like he had just closed his eyes when Grandpa began to call all the goblins to him. Kishi rose groggily, slolwly limping his way towards the cave mouth. Standing before him, Grandpa and the other goblins were surrounding a rock with strange lettering. Despite never learning to read, Kishi knew what they meant. Xaal had not returned last night. The ramblings of Grandpa passed through Kishi's mind, not even registering properly. As soon as the speech was over, Kishi quickly turned and walked away. He wasn't going to stay there. Not when it was his fault that they died in the first place. If he wasn't such a coward, if he didn't run, maybe he could have saved them. Even if he couldn't, at least he wouldn't need to live with this guilt. Kishi slowly made it back to his corner, leaning against the now useless rock. Tears threatened to erupt from his face, and he gripped his spear until his knuckles turned white. This wasn't right. He wasn't going to let them go. He was going to kill those damn monsters and, at the very least, get whatever was left of the two goblins. As he made this resolution, the weakest goblin in the cave... Walked up to him? "Goblin Kishi, strongest of the cave. The one who has seen death with his own eyes. The one who has killed yet has not been killed. Show me what you have learned of life and death, for on this day, I ZECTOLL! will be your hunting party." Kishi slowly began to get up, and faked a smile. "Of course I will show you! However... I will decide where we go to hunt. After all, you have never been outside before right, Brother Zectoll? Here, this is yours now." Kishi tossed the stone spear, the one that had never been used, towards the goblin. ,@December,@Jangel13,@The 4 Winds,@Duthguy,@El Noche</s>	<\|message\|>Zectoll "Of course I will show you! However... I will decide where we go to hunt. After all, you have never been outside before right, Brother Zectoll? Here, this is yours now." Kishi tossed the stone spear, the one that had never been used, towards the goblin. Instinctively Zectoll raised one hand into air, letting the spear fall firmly into his hand. He looked at the weapon with glee holding it awkwardly in his hands. The conception of such a weapon was beyond him and he was unsure of its direct applications and how best to use it. He slowly began twirling the spear in his hands, slowly transitioning from left to right to spinning it above his head. He ended the maneuver with the spear point facing outwards with his feet planted in a wide stance. Yes, never have I been outside the cave, nor stood upright for more than twenty minutes. But I am ready now...Brother Kishi? Zectoll had spent little time speaking with the other Goblins, the convention of referencing each other by brother and sister was rather odd. Thank you for this opportunity. I will follow where ever you lead. I will wait for you at the mouth of the cave when you are ready. Zectoll bowed, and then walked to the mouth of the cave, head held high, spinning and twirling the spear like a baton. "Just be careful not to get impaled by a horned rabbit. They move pretty fast. I am going to head out as well, you and anyone else willing to hunt are welcome to join me." Zectoll stopped playing with his new spear to regard the goblin who had just addressed him. A look of admiration appearing on his face as he examined the Goblin's equipment, and most notably the pelt the goblin wore on his chest. You have tasted of death as well, like Goblin Kishi. Horned rabbits are fierce opponent yes, Goblin Lomen? Zectoll said as he rubbed his chin. Impalement, Zectoll inquired about the word in his head? Zectoll took his spear and performed a swift jab into the air. Zectoll thinks that it is the horned rabbit who should worry about being impaled Zectoll said to Lomen with a sly grin on his face. I am waiting on Goblin Kishi, he agreed to teach one such as I what he has learned of life and death. You also seem to have knowledge of life and death. Would you join our party as well? Zectoll said to Lomen, an eager grin splayed across his face.</s>
<\|description\|>Zectoll Gender: Male Appearance: Zectoll is a goblin of average height and build. What distinguishes him from his brethren is peculiarly large and pointy ears, and his large wide mouth filled with gleaming white teeth. Zectoll almost always has a self amused grin on his face. Personality: Zectoll is a goblin who gives off the appearance of being calm, collected, and self amused. Zectoll does not like to show mental emotional weakness, dealing with tragedy and loss with dark humor. Zectoll is highly driven and disciplined when it comes to accomplishing the goals that he has set for himself. It is in the furtherance of these goals that the calm collected aspect of Zectoll's personality gives way to burning passion. In times of challenge or conflict Zectoll often gets fired up into a frenzy, giving his all to the task at hand. He enjoys undertaking a mighty challenge, not only for material rewards but also the glory of overcoming the odds. For Zectoll there is no right or wrong, there is only victory or defeat. All things are permitted in the pursuit of victory, save betraying his friends and family. Zectoll is a very loyal to those he calls friends, and will go to great lengths to help them. To him, there is little point in acquiring wealth and glory if there is no one to share and revel in it with. Past Life History: In his past life Zectoll was a man known as Leon Tracy, also known as Lucky Ace. He grew up a poor street urchin, getting by from pick pocketing, thievery, and shell games. As he grew older he became proficient in many card tricks, cons, and various other games gamblers play. Thus he went through life as a professional gambler, cheating his way into the pockets of unsuspecting marks. Eventually he and his friends put together a thriving business with all their ill gotten cash. Ace would meet his demise from alcohol poisoning during a night of binge drinking in celebration of the success he and his friends had found in their business ventures. Birth Skill: Physical Adroitness - Zectoll is quick and skillful in body, possessing a great measure of readiness and grace in physical activity; especially in skill and ease in using the hands. Acquired Skills Savage Strike: a very violent attack, savage strike not only causes heavy damage to the target but can scare the enemies around them. At higher levels can cause fear from other enemies. Predator Stance:the predetor stance is a permanent ability that can be switched on or off by the goblin. The stance gives the goblin muffled movement and ambush bonus when not detected before attacking. Much like a predator that silently gets closer to its prey before it strikes with ferocity. unarmed fighting beginner: the goblin has learned how to use his fist to throw a jab properly more knowledge is needed to be a proper unarmed fighter crafting beginner Adrenaline Surge! This goblin grinning widely and using superior speed and power to win against his opponent learned this enhancement skill. This skill can only be used when the goblin is fighting an opponent equal or stronger them himself, Adrenaline surge allows this goblin to enhance his speed and his strength incredibly. However once the fight is finished the goblin will automatically have his adrenaline surge stop forcing him to feel every ache and pain he experienced till its conclusion. CounterstrikeThis skill was learned when the goblin was able to strike his opponent despite the attack that was used against him by his opponent. This skill is a passive skill allowing the goblin to judge how he can attack his enemy while avoiding the full force of his opponents attack. Blessings -Honor the fallen Has learned to honor those that die, as a result gains a higher affinity with death Curses -Chain of Grief Chained grief now follows the goblins and death is now a permanent fear in their minds: Each are weaker to psychological attacks but now understand death better and as such gain more influence into joining the Death or Hooded class Other: Zectoll has a great fondness for organ meat, for it's spongy texture. Zectoll also has a great fondness of blood, for it's metallitc taste and deep red luster. Equipment -Stone Spear -Alpha Rabbit Horn -Alpha Rabbit pelt -Dirty Loincloth -Fist Fang - A primitive knuckle weapon made from cloth and wolf bones. I am a mighty Goblin.</s> <\|message\|>Shiba 4 Winds@El Noche@Duoya -Burial of the fallen: a proper send off- Grandpa looked to the three of them as they talked about whether or not they would help him and in all honestly he was old and wouldn't be able to perform it properly. He was glad to hear that both Lomen and Zectoll would help him bury their brother and sister. Honestly he was a little perplexed at Zectoll in how he said that their deaths flowed into his body allowing him to live it would explain why he thought the goblin was a still born when he didn't wake up. He wouldn't say anything about it though not wanting the young one to get a swelled head but he would keep an eye on him nevertheless. He then went back into the cave and got what they needed he grabbed two crude shovels made from dead bark and a sharpened stone wrapped together. This was meant for ceremonial purposes and not actual combat since it wasn't designed to do anything else. He then lead the two a few feet away to a much smaller cave opening that he decided to use as their burial site. He told them to start digging the graves as they started to dig Grandpa took the skeletons of the young ones feeling such sadness for having to do this to ones who never truly lived. He then started speaking in a language that none of the goblins could understand as he bowed his head as if talking to their spirits himself. Once the graves were done Grandpa then put the bodies in the graves, he then partially covered them in the dirt before he put three black flowers into the graves then covered the graves in dirt completely. "They were born, they then lived, before they died. Death tulips meant to signify death we are sorry they died so soon. he said before he finished and he started to walk back to the cave. Goblins Zectoll, Lomen, and Kishi: Curse obtained For being the ones to bury the dead and watch the service these goblins gain the curse Chained Grief=Chained grief now follows the goblins and death is now a permanent fear in their minds: Each are weaker to psychological attacks but now understand death better and as such gain more influence into joining the Death or Hooded class</s> <\|message\|>Kishi. As his companions walked over, Kishi felt confident that they would remain. Zectoll had just finished his first hunt, and surely must have been tired after consuming so much meat. Lomen seemed like the type to hunt alone, but the funeral ceremony might scare that thought from his mind. As he pondered this the sight of Xaal's mangled corpse returned to the forefront of his thoughts. The young goblin had been... difficult, but he was family dammit. Kishi slowly gazed over the corpse. Scratch marks permeated every piece of flesh that remained, and the bones that stuck out like daggers of white rock had dozens of bite marks. A once-over of Isurta proved not much difference. The thought of their demise reminded Kishi of that cold, numbing sensation he felt 4 days ago, and fear immediately leaped at his heart. Not the fear he felt with the wolves, no, he could run from that. This was a deep seeded, immense fear, a sense of helplessness. The though chilled him to the bones. The bones marked by teeth. It was at this moment the, now unfeeling and cold voice in his mind injected more information in Kishi's mind. Mortality. It was at this moment that Kishi's body became cold as ice, and Zectoll exclaimed a response. "Maybe it is just a coincidence, just a random dream. But I feel that somehow in death their strength flowed into me, and lifted whatever curse it was that afflicted me.I will do whatever I can to help in the burial ceremony. Hunting can wait, I would rather see this task to its end here and now". Kishi turned to the young goblin and, in place of rage at the comment and joy at the assistance, responded in a monotone. "Thank you, brother Zectoll. I appreciate the help." Lomen also voiced his opinion on the matter of hunting, and laid out an apology. "I agree with Zectoll. It is best to give the dead a proper burial. And Kishi, I apologize for my comment earlier. I have no idea what the experience must have been for you so I am sorry if I have offended you in any way. Grandpa, please show us the ceremony so we can give them a proper burial. After the ceremony if you two would like I can show you how to skin the wolf." "I appreciate that, Lomen. Your comment had offended me slightly, but it doesn't matter." After he said this, another thought reverberated throughout Kishi's mind. None of this matters. --- After digging the holes underneath the two stones, grandfather had begun to recite some scripture in a tongue that had no meaning to Kishi. All he thought about the entire service was his own body, cruelly twisted and mutilated in the same way these bodies had been. Grandfather placed numerous small flowers on top of their gravestones. "They were born, they then lived, before they died. Death tulips meant to signify death we are sorry they died so soon." A new fear, one that made his hunger look like a spark and his fear of the wolves akin to a flame, shined through his being like the distant sun. The fear of death. 4 Winds,@El Noche,@Jangel13</s> <\|message\|>Luz Luz @Duthguy Well, the good news is Luz and Stegs survived that test. Though always had a hunch that if something goes's wrong all she would lose was a stick. They could easily replace a stick so that not a big deal. Not the problem was how they were going tog et a tool to remove it from out of the plant's reach. "How do you think we should get it out?" Luz asked Stags? Luz was more of a fighter than a farmer so maybe Stegs could take the lead as they deal with this plant issue.</s>	<\|message\|>Zectoll Zectoll went about following Grandpa Goblins instructions. The ceremony was a solemn one indeed. The sadness of Grandpa Goblin shown itself clearly, and Zectoll found the sadness of the cave's patriarch to be off putting. The sight of his kin's corpses being laid to rest distrubed him. It was as if some dormant part of his mind was activated. A sense of dread and anxiety washed over the young goblin, and he felt himself becoming restless. What could he do, to ease this feeling of dread. "Become stong, become fierce, become savage." Zectoll thought to himself. If he became stronger, perhaps this pang of fear in the back of his mind would ease. After the ceremony Zectoll retired into the cave, his share of the spoils of the wolf hunt in hand. He thought to perhaps converse and wind down from the ordeals of current events with his hunting partners, only to quickly dismiss the notion. His comrades reaction to him sharing his inner personal revelations involving Xaal and Isurta were strange to him. It would seem that perhaps he had offended them in some way, though Kishi and Lomen had not shown such feelings completely. Zectoll remembered how Lomen had apologized for saying something out of turn to Kishi earlier in the day, and surmised that his two brothers held peculiar personalities. Or perhaps it was simply the stress of having family die in front of him, as well as the stress of mortal combat that produced such feelings in his brothers. Either way, Zectoll decided that He would keep his personal reflections to himself from now on. Though there was one that Zectoll felt he could freely share his inner machinations with. Zectoll gathered two hinder quarters from his stash of wolf meat and went to talk with Grandpa Goblin. In his days of torment, the only relief he felt was when Grandpa Goblin came to give him food. Now he was strong enough to acquire food on his own, food he would gladly share with the cave's patriarch. Zectoll held out his arm outstretched to Grandpa Goblin, his hand clutching a hindquarter of black wolf. For you Zectoll said as he made himself comfortable, sitting with his legs crossed, as he began to eat the opposite hind quarter of wolf. Today in our fight with the wolves, I acquired a skill. Savage Strike. The words appeared before my eyes describing the skill and it's effects. Do all goblins gain skills like this? Zectoll was eager to live, and in order to live he guessed that he would need more knowledge. Unlike Kishi, he was not naturally talented in crafting, nor had the natural wisdom that Lomen possessed. He would need to figure out what path he should take, in order to survive. I want to become strong and swift in body, like the black wolves. I doubt that they live in fear like we goblins do Zectoll said dejectedly. How can I accomplish this dream Grandpa?</s>
<\|description\|>Amelia My Character (more will follow) Titles: Duchess of Transylvania, The Elder Princess (not to her face) Race: Vampire (Elder) Age: Over 700 years old but allegedly over 800. Physical Appearance: (If you don't have an image or simply wish to add more detail) Biography: Not much is known of Amelia in her early life. Her history only accurately beginning after the founding of Nocturne, of course even then the Vampire Elders did much to rewrite history in their own image, so even then much may be conjecture or outright lies. Much of her history is told in the Annum Vampirum and the Annals of Nocturne. In the Annum Vampirum which gives a timeline of her life states she was born in the 'Old World' and was one of the original Vampire Elders. Helping lead the Vampire race and their newfound Human allies into driving back the hordes at their doors. Helping found Valeria and ultimately forming Nocturne. Personality wise Amelia is well received by Vampires and Humans alike. Being held as beautiful and just in her duties. Able to lead men into battle but not much into politicking. Caring little for legislation but will take Court cases should they fancy her. Amelia is also the only Elder to be the head of a Province. Holding the title of Duchess of Transylvania and as such is usually engaged in protecting the Eastern Frontier and prosecuting campaigns into the endless wilderness there. At the start of the role play Amelia is the reigning Vampire Elder for the last thirty-three years. Being the only female Elder her hand in marriage is much sought after, and the tale of many a minstrel. Additional Information: As the Duchess of Translyvania she has control over its military forces. The Athanatoi or Deathless Ones is the military order dedicated to her. Athanatoi Warrior If a Provincial Lord Name of Province: Transylvania Name of Provincial Capital: Drakenberg Population: 125,000 Military Size: 10,000 Military Info: The Athanatoi prefer to fight as heavy infantry, cavalry, and missile troops organized into companies of 100-250 warriors. Economy Info: Transylvania is economically mediocre with its primary industry being mines and woodworking. Most of its people outside of Drakenberg live in small hamlets and villages. History/Information of Province: Transylvania is the Easternmost province of the Realm of Nocturne. Bording Magyan to the West and Balkora to the South-West. To the East it is bordered by the Kingdom of Rumova while its Northern marches give way to the Ukrainian plains and the mutant tribes that call those lands home. Border raids and sorties from the provinces military are commonplace. Though the Mountains provide a natural barrier they are not impervious. The mountain passes must be watched and while the communities in the Carpathians are few and far between they are a hardy bunch. Often the first line of defense should a foe seek to penetrate the mountains and enter the Transylvanian basin. Transylvania's provincial capital is the City of Targon Minas (former Targu Mures), population of 28,000, and situated within the Transylvanian basin. It is from here that the provincial government reigns in Amelia's stead when she is not present. As such the Province can be seen as a Oligarchy made up of appointed officers while Amelia is away, and then transitioning into a feudal monarchy when she is present and reigning as Duchess. Transylvania, before Nocturne, was a land of vast forests giving way to snowy mountains. It's people scarce and constantly at war with the beasts of the forests. When the Elders took power and began building Valeria, they also expanded Nocturne. In the Provinces own history Amelia led an army of Nocturne into the Transylvania and drove the beasts from the forests. The people in joy crowned her as their overlord. A more fanciful story is that Amelia alone wandered into Transylvania, and following the call of a raven climbed the highest mountain. Slayed the Dragon Durogast, and with that deed the land bent to her will, proclaiming her Lord of all Transylvania.</s> <\|message\|>Hatuum That had been quick. Almost too quick. While Hatuum had come here hoping to acquire a new contract, he had been nowhere near expecting to get it so quickly. It almost seemed like that his sheer appearance was making enough of a first impression to let people think thad he'd be suited for the job. However this also added to the pressure resting on his giant shoulders now. He would have to deliver: early and decisively. Otherwise the damage to his reputation could become unrecoverable. Additionally there were other circumstances that gave this contract the potential to be one of the most important and most special of his entire career. The fact that one of his clients was one of the three elders, for example. Hell given that Amelia was standing so close to him he suddenly felt quite ashamed of himself. Was he behaving correctly ? Was his clothing something that could annoy some of the very high ranking persons here or was it at least halfway adequate for the situation ? Normally Hatuum didn't bother about such things at all except when doing his job, but right now these thoughs suddenly hit him so fiercly that the colossal man almost seemed to slightly shrink, though only briefly. Hatuum made unvarnished use of his size, taking a quick survey of the crowd to check if there was anyone eavesdropping. Personally he thought that speaking openly about such a mission in such a room was a big mistake, but it had not been him who started it. There was no point left in urging to relocate the discussion now. "Alright." He cleared his throat, partly due to embarrassment. "So I think there is a multitude of matters we have to discuss beforehand. First: Who is in command ? I'm not an official part of your mercenary group, Amiartys, but still it must be clear who has the duty to obey orders and who has the privilege to issue them. Second: The german territory is quite far away from here. I assume it is rather urgent ? So what do we do in order to get there if not walk ? Third: When and where to meet ? I'd like to have a little bit of time to prepare myself beforehand. A different set of clothes, something more adapted to the situation. And we need a plan."</s> <\|message\|>Anriette Argentine (Du'lac) The 'meeting' that followed the actual grand affair was something that interested the young Argentine heiress considerably more than all the lower level politics that had proceeded it, loitering for some time, the flame-haired woman approached the increasingly eclectic group, a pleasing, easy smile on her lips. She could be quite the charmer when she wanted to be, and right now she exuded the careful grace of a diplomat and noblewoman. "I couldn't help but notice that this discussion quite focuses on the possibility of this new German King, frightful business no?" Her accent was clear, a rolling, smooth tone, but not enough to disguise the meaning of her words. "Both interests I represent here have little to gain from a powerful barbarian ruler, and I do have a few connections in the region." She continued, tossing her ginger mane, heavily styled, slightly. It wasn't a shade naturally found among the peoples of the Coast, and was a clear hallmark of her father's mysterious origins in the North, and whatever contacts she might have there. "I can provide whatever support is necessary, provided I am involved." she added, with a slight grin, not quite reaching her ears.</s>	<\|message\|>Amelia Amelia listened to Alenios speak, and it was a concern, Nocturne was not exempt from courtly intrigues. Backstabbing, gossip, swindling, bribery, even down right murder have and probably will happen within the political circles of Nocturne. Despite being what could be the epitome of civilization in this world, it was immune to the depredations of humanity and trans humans, it was not immune to the decay seeking to worm its way through society. "Bring your guards." she said to Alenios. Turning to Amiartys and Hatuum, but speaking to the former, Amelia regarded them all before her eyes. "A dangerous threat is forming to the North, within the forest of Germania, rumors of a High King. A united Germania is a dangerous reality, tens of thousands of them pouring across our borders, a long and grueling war that would be. But if we can kill this in its nursery, excise the root from the soil, before its sprouts fruit it'd be a boon to us all. Arielle, you will accompany Alenios as well, your request is accepted. You all may take what you need." Amelia at that stood up and made to leave, but stopped, and turned half way to everyone, "If you all accept, gather at the Western Gate of Valeria's outer wall." At that she left, to prepare, and lay plans to keep Nocturne's clockwork government working efficiently without her being present to exercise executive powers. Moving throughout the citadel, progressively downwards, through hallways and dim galleries. Down many stair cases. Until she came to a vaulted chamber deep within the earth. The air was cool, mist hung around the stone masonry, and on the ground was a set of three gold icons. Stylized letters, the first letters in the names of the Elders, their place of rest when not awake. A sealed chamber to keep them safe. The advanced locking mechanisms using devices held over by the Elders since before the atomic wars long forgotten by mankind. For none but the Elders remained who knew of their workings. Moving to the one with the icon 'V' she flicked aside a small gold panel. Raising her wrist to her mouth she gave a small bite. Ruby rich blood trickled down into the pan. A pan cold to the touch, kept cold by some mechanical means long forgotten, and she closed the panel. With her index finger she adjusted a set of numerals to read 31. Thirty-one days until the blood preserved in the pan would be dispensed to whomever slumbered in the vault. To Vlad. So that he may awaken from hibernation and take the reins of power in Amelia's stead should anything befall her.</s>
<\|description\|>Hatuum Titles: Officially none. Inofficially however he has earned himself the nickname of 'The Phantom' Race: Human Age: 35 Physical Appearance: One can easily see that he's unusually pale for a human being and his eyes look somewhat strange. Yet there are no fangs and no fur is sprouting during a full moon. What appears to be quite altered or randomly mutated in his bloodline however are the portions of the genome controlling growth: At more than eight feet while still maintaining a very well visible heap of muscular bulk, he's rather unmistakable. The clothing/armor shown in the picture should not be taken as a precise reference to how he dresses. Given his job, Hatuum can appear in many different things. Usually it's the one that fits the situation he wants to confront himself with best. Biography: Hatuum's short history can be tracked back to a small region in the Alps, roughly at the point where the provinces of Westmark, Tyrstria and Veiern meet each other. It has not yet been possible to pinpoint his true origin, but this is the area where the first sighting of him has been confirmed. Given the medieval stage of development, not everybody carries around a passport and a bunch of legal documents which are forgery-proof - and he has proven to be quite elusive and able to go around guard posts. This is no accident. His profession is not exactly what an 'ordinary' man would do: Hatuum's an assassin. While he behaves like a submarine for most of time, there are secret ways to make him surface. Ways spread only by rumor and reserved for the rich and powerful. He's far beyond working for everyone. It makes it even harder to acquire his helping hand. He knows that the count, duchess or other person of noble rank calling for him today could very well be the one whose court he has spread terror in sometime before. Who knows on which list of suspects someone has put him on ? It is also the reason why his region of interest spreads across the entirity of Nocturne. The less frequent one returns to the same region, the better. Basically he's always on the search for the most promising contract. Hatuum's time on earth is comparatively limited - he has the intention to make as much glory out of it as possible. He doesn't control any kind of army, but on the smaller scale of a locked room he can be considered a one man variant of it.</s> <\|message\|>Alenios As soon as he saw her mood, Alenios rose from his seat, his two Blood Guards moving close to him as if they were his shadows. As soon as he got up, he could hear the people around him start to whisper names. Most of the people there whispered his favorite name, the Bloody Count or names like that, however, a few higher ranked dukes outright whispered the name... lapdog... something which he was not a very big fan of. However, he could not start arguing with other dukes here in the courts of Valeria, it make him and Amelia look bad. After a few moments of walking where the entire court had his eyes on him, he reached next to Amelia and stood up next to her. He could feel everyone's eyes watching, some were confused looks, some were looks of respect, however, most were looks of jealousy, everyone there probably thinking at why he was deserving to be so close to her when he was such a low rank. "What is it you wish me to do, my lady?" he asked with a courteous smile before his eyes fell upon the pages detailing the info of the tribes uniting. Part of him felt distress at this as he would have to face a powerful enemy if Amelia sent him to deal with the tribes, but another part of him felt excitement surging through him. So many enemies to kill... so many enemies to capture, a victory would increase his prestige greatly and maybe silence some of the people who judged him. Either way, he only smiled and awaited her commands, he would obey whatever she would command, even if it meant facing death.</s> <\|message\|>Arielle Dryell Amiartys rode from dawn, the sun following behind him as he and his Northern Swordsmen arrived to the Elder City of Valeria from the east. Thirty years since the siege of Prague did Amiartys last gaze upon the most opulent and populated city in the world, a time in which he fought alongside many of those who were willing and brave enough to put forth their own lives for a cause that was said to be certain to fail. Though the same could be said against their adversaries during that instant. A grave reminder, as many memories were of battle, written into a person's head as fate is so often written in stone. It was an old, almost desolate memory, one like many others he wished to forget had he not remembered the valor of many soldiers who fought during that battle. Though valor and honor were common themes to write about in the many grand tales, poems, and songs of an artist, hardly any names of the many souls who fight and died are seldom mentioned and quite often are those names lost in the sands of time. War is hell, they say, for those willing to risk gain either pretentious fame, or serve as lost and once living voices in the eternal sea of echoes were still nonetheless destined to bare witness the horrors of battle. The Siege of Prague being the most recent and bloody battle that Amiartys was ever a veteran of and many considered Amiartys to be an great and forgotten hero, as he led many company men and men-at-arms when they could not find any shred of motivation to fight in this battle though he was not the only leader of this battle nor the most important. Nonetheless, he did lead, and quite possibly contributed heavily to the victory of this battle. Amiartys, however, could care less about the historians who chose to not write about him. For only in living so many years and the experience to fill in those many days did he learn and accept modesty as an important developing behavior in contrast to his younger self. So many defeats, and victories, so many distant memories that made him again realize why some vampires and those born 'unnaturally' (as he liked to put it) who are destined to live extended lives sometimes envied humans. Time on this earth for humans and mortals are far more valuable than all the coins or all the valuables in the world, and like currency, it must spend it wisely and meaningfully, something a vampire could easily forget later in the course of his or her unnaturally extended life. It was rational therefore that the majority of Amiartys's company members would rather prefer to spend their own time outside the affairs of a typical city council gathering and spend time in the city itself, either visiting family or to find recreation as they typically did when reaching a rather large city. Valeria was certainly no exception. After arriving, Amiartys had almost forgotten how formal and intricate political discussions were, not to mention in a major city like Valeria. Perhaps attending the meeting would teach him something of value in his old age of 120 years, though he did not appear an age over 30 he was quite knowledgeable about the world. The council room itself was fairly crowded, though was large enough to house a host of many others who would wish to take part in political discussion. Many of the faces of the nobles who stood among the higher pedestals were recognizable as they were clients of his who had hired Amiartys for several tasks need to be occupied by a mercenary. A mercenary they knew they could depend on and were never disappointed. He looked around the room with his radiant brown eyes until he saw Amelia the Elder who he had not seen in thirty years since the seige and many others including Alenios the Bloody Count, Anriette Argentine, and Arielle Dyrell who seemed to be bored out of her mind and almost fast asleep listening to typical political discussion. There was also a strange-looking, pale human who looked like a veteran of trained combat who Amiartys thought was another mercenary looking for a job. He wore tribal-like armor which Amiartys found to be rather impractical, though it was his height that drew his attention. He was the tallest man he had ever seen! The man certainly could have not been human for he was eight feet tall and had skin even more pale than his own. All of Amiartys's five vampire guards remained by his side during the course of the council meeting with the exception of Daramous who needed to attend to a blacksmith in order to purchase ingot for preparations for their next potential job offer. In his place, was a human boy, a fresh recruit to the Northern Swordsmen Company who decided to spend his time in the council hall and remained at Amiartys's side. He was 12, almost 13 in a month and given to Amiartys under certain conditions in which he would not otherwise accept with such meager experience. Although the boy proved that he was an exceptional fighter, he was still just a boy with all the youth and passion life had so temporarily gave him and the rest of his race. "Have you eva' been ne'er or even seen an Elder before?", he asked almost excitingly, referring to Amelia. Amiartys could almost see the glow in his eyes through his peripheral vision. "Yes, a few years ago." He exchanged quietly, almost uninterested in what the boy had to say while still keeping an open ear. "And how long ag'o was tha'?", the boy asked, knowing that a few years for a vampire could easily mean more than fifty to a mortal man well past his prime. "Thirty. Since the siege of Prague. Didn't I already tell you?" "I wasn' ther', rememba'? I was ou' into town fetchin' the rations that we so gladly paid those farmers for. Thos' muffins were quite tasty. Ye rememba' don't y-" "I believe that was Aeros that I intended for that task. Did he make you take his place instead?" He calmly and quietly groaned to himself, already knowing the answer. "Yes. He tol' me you wanted me to do it." Amiartys almost wanted to sigh. That lazy buffoon he thought to himself. Although the boy was three-months fresh, he was not the only new recruit. Aeros himself had not even been two months introduced to the group when the boy himself was taken in, though he was far more experienced in conflict than most his age. Aeros was also young, being 23 in the height of his own prime. An excellent swordsmen, but an even better bowman who Amiartys could rely on, though not when it came to keeping him in his place as he slowly began to realize within the past month. "If I wanted summon you for a task, I would've sent you myself. Understand" The boy then nodded. "You should not always do what others tell you to do." He said carefully. "Oh. So, doe' tha' mean I shouldn't listen to ye" He asked, almost sounding like a tease. "Yes boy, only if you wish to go back to Milaria with your five older brothers." Amiartys smiled playfully with the boy though couldn't quite tell whether or not he was serious. The boy in return gave a shy grin before looking down submissively. Amiartys wanted to just assume the boy was either stupid or foolish, though he wasn't, in fact not even in the slightest - even if he did look and sounded that way. Naïve was the more appropriate term for a young human boy. The boy was of house Dresos, a noble family who had earned their revenue from farming wheat and corn to the west. Amiartys almost forgotten what it was like being young, truly young. The boy was raised by the Dresos who owned a subtle, modest community which Amiartys believed to breed some of the most competent human farmers and peasant in the land, and they were very well-to-do, even as peasants. Commodry was his name, a boy given to him only because Amiartys gave his word to take him under his wing. A skinny and ragged boy with crooked teeth, brown hair to complement his dusty appearance, and an unorganized complexion. From the beginning of this journey, Amiartys just knew he needed to work on this child and make him into a man as he so promised his family. In the meantime, there were manners in the council hall that needed to be attended and the conversations transitioned from unimportant, manners to more important and disconcerting ones as the meeting progressed. He could tell just by the looks of Amelia, who always tended to have a poker face. Rumors were beginning to form that Germans just north of the border were patrolling the parameters of Nocturne more frequently and seem to be collaborating with one another. Men of different tribes are often now seen together, sometimes exchanging important conversation in an alarmingly discreet manner, and have been seizing their raids. Dealing with raiders was not uncommon for Amiartys as he dealt with them so many times. So much in fact, he is infamous for slaying many great Germanic warriors though that was long ago even before the battle of Prague. If these rumors were in fact true, he would perhaps be of service as many other mercenaries could be during these potentially troubled times.</s>	<\|message\|>Hatuum The majority of the public session proved itself to be even more boring than Hatuum's anxiety had anticipated. Political discussions of the kind that was going on would not net him any new contract. What had he expected however ? A mercenary's life was no bed of roses, so what should an assassin's life be ? Yet the situation started to become more and more boring at an alarming rate. The unnaturally pale man started to spend an increasing portion of his time on tasks other than paying attention to the words spoken down there. He heard the large entrance gates open and close multiple times and on almost every occasion, Hatuum turned his head around to look who's coming. Only very few were of real interest for him though - one of them being Amiartys. It had rather not been the man himself that had attracted Hatuum's attention, but the fact that he had gathered five guards around him - and... a boy ? Why would anyone bring a young kid in here ? Hatuum found his words rather erratic and being a clear indication of inexperience. However on the other hand there was some implication behind the mere circumstance that someone who appeared to be as important or at least well-situated like Amiartys was actually willing to have such a person around himself. Hatuum was on his way making the decision to get up and approach him in a casual manner, but shortly before he was able to finalize his thoughts, things changed down where the elder was talking. So... Germans. He smirked. Why were historians still bothering about taking notes of their malicious activity ? Wouldn't it save a lot of parchment and memory if one started to mention peaceful times only ? His own life hardly covered any timespan worth being mentioned from a vampire's perspective, but he roughly knew what had happened over the course of the late last century. The question was... Was he willing to engage himself in open combat against them ? The thing was bound to earn him something, but it would be quite off his usual approach as well. Hatuum decided to defer his decision. The issue would not run away from him. Most likely not even the ongoing debate would do since these were prone to last long. The man who many considered to be some sort of strange monster got up sluggishly, turned around and went up the stairs taking several of them at once with each step he made. The mercenary Amiartys was dead ahead and was now approached by him. Hatuum wasn't sure about what to say, but everything would be better than sitting around there and doing... nothing... until things cleared up. "Hello there."</s>
<\|description\|>Hatuum Titles: Officially none. Inofficially however he has earned himself the nickname of 'The Phantom' Race: Human Age: 35 Physical Appearance: One can easily see that he's unusually pale for a human being and his eyes look somewhat strange. Yet there are no fangs and no fur is sprouting during a full moon. What appears to be quite altered or randomly mutated in his bloodline however are the portions of the genome controlling growth: At more than eight feet while still maintaining a very well visible heap of muscular bulk, he's rather unmistakable. The clothing/armor shown in the picture should not be taken as a precise reference to how he dresses. Given his job, Hatuum can appear in many different things. Usually it's the one that fits the situation he wants to confront himself with best. Biography: Hatuum's short history can be tracked back to a small region in the Alps, roughly at the point where the provinces of Westmark, Tyrstria and Veiern meet each other. It has not yet been possible to pinpoint his true origin, but this is the area where the first sighting of him has been confirmed. Given the medieval stage of development, not everybody carries around a passport and a bunch of legal documents which are forgery-proof - and he has proven to be quite elusive and able to go around guard posts. This is no accident. His profession is not exactly what an 'ordinary' man would do: Hatuum's an assassin. While he behaves like a submarine for most of time, there are secret ways to make him surface. Ways spread only by rumor and reserved for the rich and powerful. He's far beyond working for everyone. It makes it even harder to acquire his helping hand. He knows that the count, duchess or other person of noble rank calling for him today could very well be the one whose court he has spread terror in sometime before. Who knows on which list of suspects someone has put him on ? It is also the reason why his region of interest spreads across the entirity of Nocturne. The less frequent one returns to the same region, the better. Basically he's always on the search for the most promising contract. Hatuum's time on earth is comparatively limited - he has the intention to make as much glory out of it as possible. He doesn't control any kind of army, but on the smaller scale of a locked room he can be considered a one man variant of it.</s> <\|message\|>Alenios Zero Alenios fell to his knees before Amelia as if his his strings had been cut. "Of course not, my lady." he said, not daring to rise from this position. Even as his good friend Amyiartis was choked. It was a real pity if he were to die, but he vauled Amelia above all, even above his own person. And though he did not intervene, he did offer the Duke of Magyan a smile. Whether the duke chose to take this smile as a threat or as an apology, he did not care. As soon as the bell chimed, he rose to his feet and stood at Amelia's side, as he had always done. He saw it in her expressions that she was thinking of how she could deal with this situation. "My lady, know, that whatever you decide to do, you will have my support" he spoke, smiling, though for the first time, this was a genuine and caring smile. "If you order me now, I will gather my men and kill the barbarians to the last man." Though he knew that the enemy outnumbered his own Blood Guard by a great deal, all of his men were vampire from throughout Nocturne, be they first generation vampires or the weakest of vampires... they were all vampires and they were all loyal. However, he did not delude himself that he had any chance of victory against so great odds, but if Amelia ordered him to charge into the germanic tribes, he would do so without a second thought. Now he simply stood, and awaited her own answer, whatever that order might be.</s> <\|message\|>Hatuum Hatuum had to make a considerable effort to stop himself from smirking. Was anyone one the persons in front of him aware of how much unvarnished... unfriendliness... they had just released towards him ? Well of course he could be wrong objectively, but for subjective feelings nothing but one's own and current point of view was relevant. First of all there was this Alenios or whoever he was. Admittedly, Hatuum didn't have much to do with politics and courtly affairs - at least not from an 'ordinary' point of view. He wasn't completely aware of the man's role here, but suspecting someone of having an intent to satisfy multiple desires while that someone had hardly done anything more but to say 'hello' was quite unexpected. And then the man lost track of his schedule on when to pretend which positive emotion. All this smiling - all this false smiling. Amiartys, the one he had initially addressed, appeared to be of a much more friendly kind. The person appearing behind him and being called Mycandros however was not. It didn't escape Hatuum's attention that the vampire had been very close to openly threatening him with his impressive long sword and the giant was quite glad about Amiartys stopping the hostility while it was still in its subtle infancy. The vampire bodyguard or whatever he was had already earned his place on the list of possibly dangerous persons though. Hatuum had been hesitant enough not to carry a weapon in here. That was with the exception of his own body of course. Quite a lot of people probably considered him to be a weapon himself. He didn't. Raw flesh was pretty defenseless against a sharp blade, no matter how much there was available of it. Hatuum had blasted his way through a few taverns though... When Amelia decided to take things into her own hands literally, Hatuum became seriously concerned about the possibility of the situation escalating. How would Amiartys react to this kind of demonstration ? The self-appointed assassin didn't wait for the reaction of the mercenary leader but instead opted for sitting down as told quickly. Given that his biceps were thicker than many men's thighs already, one could probably imagine the extent of Hatuum's own legs burying the bench beneath them. Sometimes he really hated himself for being what he was, but most of the time he did the opposite. "Hatuum. Just... Hatuum. There's nothing more to add to my name." He briefly paused, waiting for an reaction before he decided to just go on. "So... a mercenary leader ? May I ask what you do exactly ?"</s> <\|message\|>Arielle Dryell A small drop of blood trickled down from Amiartys's slightly bruised neck where the markings of Amelia's hands had just been only a few seconds before. He had known that feeling of being strangled once, though that was many years ago when he was younger in age and in spirit. One moment he had tried to amiably control a situation that could have gotten out of hand, the next, he had completely lost that control, leaving Amelia to gasp not only that very heated incident but a tight gasp around Amiarty's neck. Her speed was impeccable, her strike against his pale neck, firm and elegant as she was. Amelia had a tight and very uncomfortable grip around his neck, her fingernails lightly digging into his skin and her hands as tight as steel around his neck. He looked into at her and saw nothing in her face but disappointment and deep into her piercing radiant eyes, Amelia looked at Amiartys as a predator so looks into its prey and in that moment, he understood true fear. Amiartys felt vulnerable in that moment, yet there was nothing he could do in that moment, he didn't resist. He knew that she wouldn't kill him over something as what he considered as frivolous as this though leaders seldom should miss the opportunity to discipline wrong-doers and in that moment, he understood why she did it. She held him with her left arm, lifting him from the ground as if he were as light as some helpless infant, her hands crushing his throat as he subtly struggled against her might. Though despite this, there was no use in even trying, her hands were both as cold and hard as steel. She even appeared to not be straining from lifting Amiartys, even with his gear on that made him a few pounds heavier. Amelia was quite un-ordinarily strong as the rumors had mentioned, then again Amelia was a very un-ordinary vampire. Amiartys throughout his long life had always been told the tales of the Elders and their vigorous ferocity in battle though he had not witnessed it himself until later in his life in the many wars he had so loyally fought for Nocturne, though never expecting such power to be pointed in his direction. The soldiers during the times of war had circulated rumors that an Elder had strange physical prowess over ordinary people and seldom were rumors ever refuted. Amiartys took Amelia's words and advice with the utmost consideration, for this easily could've been his last. He was even graciously wanted to thank her for her complement on his appearance as she examined him as if he were some sort of specimen. He smiled at her despite his face turning from crisp red to now a light blue. Amiartys could see that Amelia was almost, as some would say, amused with torturing him. Perhaps it was her way of flirting with him and it was something Amiartys had always grown to be used to though never quite in this manner. After grinning at her, Amelia released the grip she so tightly had over his neck, letting Amiartys almost stumble onto the ground had he not been caught by Mycandros. "I do apologize, my lady." Mycandros had so apologetically said to her, wanting to drop to his knees if he had not caught Amiartys. He help Amiartys back on his feet and dragged him several paces backward. Quietly, he then apologized to Amiartys. "I am so sorry sir. I would have tried to protect you, Amiartys, bu-" "You and I would've been dead in this very council hall, of all places to die." He struggled to admit though not because he didn't want to, but because of his struggle to even breathe. "I'm glad you at least understand that." Amiartys managed to say in light-hearted tone. He then cleared his throat before looking towards Commodry, seeing that he and Amelia exchanged a brief look before Amelia turned away. Commodry had always been a cowardly boy, though he appeared to be rather calm and tranquil with Amelia's presence and had a look of admiration towards her, smiling even as she was walking away. Of all people, Commodry seemed to have developed a fond liking to this Elder woman who he had ever saw the privilege of seeing for himself. Amiartys took a few seconds to recover himself and turned back to the giant man who he had just tried to defend earlier. "I do apologize again for what happened earlier, some of my men need to know their place." He turned to Mycandros, who then smiled sheepishly. "Now. What was your name again?" "Hatuum. Just... Hatuum. There's nothing more to add to my name." He replied, though there was a strange pause as if to say that he was nothing more than just some soldier. He was modest, which Amiartys could respect. "So... a mercenary leader ? May I ask what you do exactly ?" He asked. "I attend to matters that require my expertise and with a generous amount of coins and both I and my men will be loyal to those who employ us like many other mercenary companies. We mainly focus our business in Nocturne for now and though we are small, we comprise of the best men in these lands and beyond, with the exception of a few." He turned to Commodry, seeing that his eyes were still fixated on Amelia. "And you, Hatuum, what is your profession?" He asked, though he already knew that answer in some form. --- Arielle could not remember what she had dreamt about earlier though she could tell by her mood before abruptly waking up that it was a good dream like the ones she typically had whenever she had slept in a recreational manner during these tedious council meetings. She woke up to the sound of stumbling, only to realize that someone who looked like Amiartys, the mercenary leader who had fought along side both her father and grandfather, had just taken a considerable blow from Amelia though she had not known why. "What just happened, Contentos? Is that Amiartys?" She turned to her older adviser, who had been pinching the bridge of his nose frustratingly. He was a man no older than sixty and was a hardened veteran of the many battles he had fought alongside Arielle's father many years ago, something Arielle had always been told of since her youth. Though burdened by old age, he carried with him a strong appearance he had conditioned since youth. An excellent swordsman as proven many times in battle as shown by the scar that dragged along his face, just barely missing his eyeball. "Did something exciting finally happen during these boring meetings for once?" "Yes and yes, madam, that is him. I have not seen him in three years. I'm also afraid you have missed that very opportunity of something you consider 'interesting'. May I remind you that you are in a very important council meeting?" Contentos lectured her silently. "Yes, yes." She said annoyingly. "And when something interesting finally occurs, you don't even bother to wake me." She groaned before wiping the saliva she had left on her boiled leather forearm on her legs. "I was afraid of what repercussions that might ensue in the event that I should awake you after your 'peaceful' slumber." He reminded her of what happened last time. "Oh" She caught on. "I never quite expected you to be a man living in fear of anyone." She said teasingly, knowing that he was a proud man. "I do not, Baroness. Only strong women with a passion to discipline at a moment's notice." He replied, though Arielle could not tell whether or not Contentos was referring to either her or Amelia. They both watched as the meeting progressed.</s>	<\|message\|>Hatuum Hatuum made a waving gesture with his left hand, indicating that the matter was essentially dealt with for him. "As you can see, I have survived without suffering any physical harm. I think that is what counts on the bottom line ? I can understand that people feel uneasy when they see me and I am, though unfortunately, rather used to this kind of behaviour. However you can trust me that I don't intend and never had the intention to use my few extra feet and several hundred extra pounds to threaten you or anybody else. Even with weapons it would be quite a bit foolish to do such a thing here, wouldn't it ? It would be overly daring to attempt this against an entire group of mercenaries in general, no matter the location." The man arched an eyebrow and spent several seconds on looking at Amiartys before continuing with the actual topic. "So, a mercenary leader. Well..." Hatuum put his right leg on top of the left one. "Than we are not that different after all. I too am a... mercenary... leader, with the exception being that my 'group' consists of only one member." Logic would dictate that this single and only member could only be Hatuum himself. It wasn't a lie after all - just a bit of an unprecise, generalized wording. He wasn't eager to completely and directly let Amiartys or any of his companions in on the fact that he was an assassin. "I could imagine that one of the upcoming things could be either me asking if you'd have a job for me or you asking if I'd be willing to accept one."</s>
<\|description\|>Alenios I have decided to send this to you first so that I do not clutter the thread should this be not good enough. Well, is it good enough? Titles: Count of Sibiu, The Bloody Count(much to his pleasure) Race: Vampire (First Generation) Age: 680 years old Physical Appearance: (If you don't have an image or simply wish to add more detail) Biography: Alenios, also known as the Bloody Count in Nocturne for his rather bloody way of killing his enemies, is the current count of Sibiu and has been for the past 33 years, being appointed as Count at the same time that Amelia was appointed as Duchess of Transylvania, most likely thanks to her own influence as an Elder Vampire. Before being appointed as Count of Sibiu, there was little historical information on this First Generation Vampire other than him being one of her closest bodyguards and advisers during the conquest of the province. However, it was as soon as he became count that he showed who he truly was. While in court he is as refined as one can be with all the mannerisms of a nobled, on the battlefield he is a Vampire who wants nothing more than to achieve the complete destruction of Amelia's enemies and by extension, his enemies. Thanks to this attitude, he always accompanies Amelia on her campaigns outside the province and commands quite a large amount of troops to crush all her enemies in her name. In Nocturne he is both respected and somewhat feared by other lords and counts, human or otherwise, though humans tend trust him a whole deal less for his brutality in war. However, what people have questioned about him often is his loyalty towards Amelia, not that he lacks said loyalty, is that he is too loyal to her, if such a thing ever existed. And Amelia repaid his loyalty in kind, he is now her most trusted count and adviser when it comes to matters of war and a very close friend of hers. Her trust towards him is great enough for people to even spread rumors that the two are actually secretly lovers, much to his amusement. Additional Information: As the Count of the border county of Sibiu, a great deal of fighting is to be done here, resulting in his regular troops to be more experienced than their counterparts in other sides of Nocturne. Province/County Name of Province: Sibiu Name of Provincial Capital: Sibiu Population: 15.000 Military Size: 2.500 Military Info: Alenios' elite, called the Blood Guard are formed mostly of light cavalry and heavy infantry regiments with a few archers put in more for support than for actual battle. All of the men in the Blood Guard must have vampire blood - no matter how much - in order to be able to join the Blood Guard. They are usually split into regiments of 250 men each. Economy Info: The city of Sibiu is one of the few more industrial cities of Transylvania, as the bordering mountains provide the city with many minerals such as cooper and iron and even a few silver and gold deposits, making the small city quite rich compared to several cities from the province. As in the case with the rest of Transylvania, most of the lands around the city are mostly villages and hamlets, with one or two small castles and military outposts dotting the borders of the county.</s> <\|message\|>Anriette Argentine (Du'lac) Previously There was only the slightest of creaking as the wheels of the carriage bit into the road of the countryside road it trundled down. Well maintained and elegant in its styling, it was clear that this was the transport of either someone born of high blood, or rich enough to make up for it. Both factors played into the position of one Anriette Argentine, a position that now meant she found herself surrounded by reports of both mercantile and diplomatic persuasions. "Sir, could you refrain from staring, it quite puts me off." Her Aquatayne accent, carefully crafted, was pronounced, but not a hindrance to, her Nocturne. It was always best to sound like the nation that you were representing, and even more so, she, along with many others she had encountered, found it rather pleasing. "I'm watching the road m'lady, I've never once gazed at you." The somewhat perplexed guard captain that sat across from her, in the rather roomy carriage, replied with confusion. He was of this land, but paid by the Embassy. It made him quite useful for excursions out and about, but still, it was clear he was never quite sure if he had offended some sort of Aquatayne tradition. "Precisely, you're making it impossible to think of nothing but bandits and other rogues out there, surely there are better things to look at then the dark of night." She laughed a little at his sudden expression. Anriette was a fair woman, and rarely dressed to hide it, and she had made to deliberately tease him, before handing over a letter she had yet to cast her eyes over. "Please, read that to me while I check through these accounts." Recovering, the guard soon followed through with her demand, beginning to recount to her the latest communication that the head of the embassy had sent to her. A few minutes passed before a thud shook through the carriage, jostling those within, sending much of the paperwork flying around the carriage as the horse-drawn transport came to a sudden halt, the whiney and scream of horses soon following, before the whole carriage began to sag. "Wait here m'lady, I'll see what this is about." The captain drew his blade before exciting the carriage, his form followed by the concerned gaze of the lady in his charge, once the door was shut, Anriette busied herself in restoring her hair to its proper place, a few ginger strands having come loose in the commotion. When the twang of crossbows and the thud of a body striking the ground resounded from outside, the woman could only roll her eyes. "...Oh for the love of...this was a new gown." With that she stood herself, exciting the carriage. It was a well lit night, and the group of bandits that had gathered around the embellished carriage were treated to a near perfect view of the noblewoman leaving her transport, the ermine gown she wore studded with enough precious stones as to glisten in the moonlight. "Looks like we've struck lucky lads." The common accent of what must have been their ring leader washed over her, as badly as the smell that emnated from the lot. "Oh, I rather think you are mistaken." Anriette replied with a grin, which only seemed to grow wider, her teeth suddenly far too large to be contained by such a pretty smile. --- It had been quite the challenge to secure transport into Valeria after that. The first trader to happen open them of course believed her tear-sobbed story about a combined bandit and subsequent lycan attack, the young noblewoman only surviving by baring herself in the storage of the carriage, her gown torn to pieces by foul men before they had been punished by the arrival of a roving feral wulfen. Alas he wasn't going on the right direction, so had instead taken her to the nearest point of civilisation where she might procure further transportation. This would have been a problem, her with no real funds on her, had she not been able to procure the Argentine seal, in the world of traders, that meant a lot more than the Du'lac family crest she would usually present. With promises of repayment, she had finally been able to make her way to the grand city, on time even, it had been fortunate she had set off early. While not one to ceaselessly show off, Anriette was aware enough of her own appearance to expect to turn a few heads upon her arrival into the open session that the current vampiric elder was holding. The one that could be bothered to stay awake. That she did, dressed in a gown of blue and gold, a hallmark of Aquatayne, the redheaded beauty met a few of the stares directed her way, making sure to curtsy should they be anyone important enough to warrant it. Taking her place in the hall, provided with a comfy enough seat to rest herself upon, the diplomat contented herself with simply watching the process of Nocturne rule.</s> <\|message\|>Amelia Valeria, Council Chambers The Council Chamber buzzed with activity, the sounds of politicking and litigation, the sounds of the heart of an empire. An empire all in but name, for Nocturne covered a variety of lands and peoples, but remained rather unobstructed in the affairs of the Provinces. Only when necessary did the Council or Elders intervene. Now what was deemed necessary is always up to opinion. Nevertheless the Elders went through great pains to project an image of not being monarchs. They wore no crowns, held no scepters, and save for Amelia who took a title of nobility solely by merit alone do not proscribe themselves as some highborn lord or lady. Despite the fact that most in Nocturne would refer to them as if they were. Calling them lords and lady. Amelia, regal in her posture, had a face of blank boredom. She had heard it all before. The idle gossip, the sniveling rumors, the backhanded jabs, and the oratory posturing. She snapped the index and thumb of her left hand, a handmaiden swiftly came over with a silver goblet, handing it to Amelia she held it as a crimson liquid was poured into the chalice. Once it was filled the handmaiden stepped away to the side of the hall. Amelia raised the goblet to her nostrils, gently swirling the liquid, smelling the aromas. For it was wine, vampire wine, she could smell the slight traces of iron. The other aromas were of sweet maple, apples, and grapes grown in the Northern vineyards of Tyrstria. It was an excellent Spring blend. Taking a sip, the liquid staining her lips a slightly darker shade of red, she enjoyed the flavor before swallowing. Casting her eyes about the room, roving like a searchlight, she took in all who was in the crowded room. There where bankers, entrepreneurs, aristocrats, politicians, judicial magistrates, officers, and even artisans. A few of the commoner class were also present, being constituents of some of the politicians present as they heard their pleas, petitions, and grievances. No doubt a few would grace her study by midnight. Nearest to her, blocked by only a few individuals, was Alenios. Count of Sibiu, staunchly loyal to Amelia, so much so that it produced a steady string of gossip about them. The most popular is that Alenios secretly has been bedding Amelia for some time now. Let the vipers tell their fables was Amelia's opinion. As her eyes stopped at Alenios she released a small smile, no doubt others would see it as a sign of silent flirtation, maybe the stories were true? If so Alenios was either insanely lucky, or playing with a very dangerous fire, one that could easily see a head roll. One that certainly wouldn't be Amelia's. Not that Amelia wished him ill will; but that others would see Alenios trying to make a power play and attempt to outright murder him before he could supplant anyone. Amelia's eyes moved on, like gemstones they shown. Roving to the benches Amelia spotted a large fellow, a giant of a man, a name entered her mind. She had heard of such a fellow, for he seemed to match the description, Haerum? Haddum? Hatam?. Movement on the periphery drew her eyes away, a redhead, an elegant girl. Amelia did not know her, but there was something about her, a glint in her eye. She would have to inquire further. "My Lady." Amelia's head snapped back to before her, a Death Dealer knelt, Amelia waved a hand and the warrior rose. "Report from Morhemia." Amelia held out her hand, the soldier took out a parcel and bowing his head handed it to the Elder. Nodding in thanks to the Death Dealer, who promptly left, Amelia snapped open the seals. Several papers packed with scrawling text spanned the pages. As she scanned down the page more and more disturbing information became clear. The Germanic tribes were uniting under a tribal King. Traditionally fractious, the Germans did occasionally unite under a strong High King, and when they did they made their presence known. The last major invasion was in 778 and took the forces of Morhemia, Veiern, Valeria, and elements from Magyan and Transylvania to decisively end that war. The War lasted a solid ten years from 778-788. This coupled with the Cult of the Savior Christ beginning to spread prompted Marcusz to awaken Vlad and Amelia so that they may deal with the various threats. For the later half of the 8th Century was a time of numerous wars with Nocturne's neighbors. This darkened Amelia's mood, folding the pages and depositing them on her side she took heavier sips of wine, her face enraptured with thought. Looking at Alenios once more Amelia flicked her head slightly. Indicating for him to situate himself next to her.</s>	<\|message\|>Alenios As soon as he saw her mood, Alenios rose from his seat, his two Blood Guards moving close to him as if they were his shadows. As soon as he got up, he could hear the people around him start to whisper names. Most of the people there whispered his favorite name, the Bloody Count or names like that, however, a few higher ranked dukes outright whispered the name... lapdog... something which he was not a very big fan of. However, he could not start arguing with other dukes here in the courts of Valeria, it make him and Amelia look bad. After a few moments of walking where the entire court had his eyes on him, he reached next to Amelia and stood up next to her. He could feel everyone's eyes watching, some were confused looks, some were looks of respect, however, most were looks of jealousy, everyone there probably thinking at why he was deserving to be so close to her when he was such a low rank. "What is it you wish me to do, my lady?" he asked with a courteous smile before his eyes fell upon the pages detailing the info of the tribes uniting. Part of him felt distress at this as he would have to face a powerful enemy if Amelia sent him to deal with the tribes, but another part of him felt excitement surging through him. So many enemies to kill... so many enemies to capture, a victory would increase his prestige greatly and maybe silence some of the people who judged him. Either way, he only smiled and awaited her commands, he would obey whatever she would command, even if it meant facing death.</s>
<\|description\|>Arielle Dryell Arielle Dryell "Though life is simple, everyone will naturally intend on making it difficult." Basic Information Title/Occupation: Baroness, House of Dryell. Age: 31 Years Old. Place of Birth: Nocturne, Duchy of Transylvania, Barony of Dyrell. Current Residence: Nocturne, Duchy of Transylvania, Barony of Dyrell, Castle Lune. Title Status Information Title: Baroness, Head of Household to the Barony of Dyrell. Sworn Sword to the Head of Household of the Duchy and Providence of Transylvania, Vassal to the Elders of Nocturne. Barony Population: 13,000 Military Population: 4,546 Military Population Information: - 1,219 Able-Bodied Nobles, Knighted: Serve as Heavy Calvary. - 537 Conscripts: Mixed with Archers and very Light Infantry. - 2,790 Mercenary Company Members: 1,000 Heavy infantry, 1,500 Archers, rest is Light Infantry. Biography and Physical Appearance Physical Appearance Description: Arielle is a beautiful blonde human woman with fair skin, burdened with temporary youth. She is considerably tall, just reaching the height of what many consider what a tall man to be as she is also physically able to manage on her own. As many of her family members are, Arielle is blessed radiant blonde hair and piercing blue eyes like many in her family. Short Biography: Born into human nobility, Arielle shared the fate of the many before her in her family of House Dryell to swear loyalty to those who rule above them. Fortunately, she grew a high noble, completely predisposed to be seen as an important individual though predisposed to living the life as a 'lady'. She was the second youngest born out of five children in the Dryell Household. Growing up, Arielle had always been different, not just because she was an obvious tomboy but because she developed a ever-growing and noticeable aptitude as a soldier. Arielle's father saw this as an opportunity to make her into what she wanted, given he had exhausted all other options in conditioning her to be a traditional 'lady'. So, it was by her own choice, that Arielle decided to become a warrior such as the many famous maidens who happened to be women before her. It is not uncommon to see women serve as great warriors, though a human woman to be specific was. Nonetheless, Arielle was naturally stubborn and driven which would later serve as a positive in her roles not just as a soldier, but as a future leader of the Household. She would receive professional training in fighting as many noble men were given when they were young. At age eleven, tragedy struck the Dryell's on one unfortunate day when the eldest son, Marco was killed falling off his horse at age thirteen. She loved her brother and losing someone she loved taught her humility. Naturally, the second eldest son, Talmond was tasked with leading the Household after the father though growing up spoiled yield a weak man and Arielle had no patience for voluntary weakness. Though she loved him as she loved everyone in her family, she grew to despise having to excuse herself for her brother and the many mistakes he would make later in his life. It was at age fifteen that Talmond confessed himself for never wanting the position that had been placed at his feet at age eight and offered his predisposed position to his stronger sister. Despite insisting her brother keeping his title, Talmond eventually convinced his sister Arielle to take his place which she would later handle gracefully while Talmond traveled South for scholarly study. This would bring many conflicts among the family and the old traditions of household rule, traditions she would later learn to persevere. It was in the last few years of teen-hood did Arielle prove herself worthy of a man's position during the many conflicts the nation was facing regarding the raids by bandits. She was noted for having lead men into fierce battles and against odds that were not in their favor. In the political world, she had honed her skills as a politician as she did a Household leader, having to deal with the constant reprisals, though not because she was a women. It was there that she learned that fighting battles as a warrior compared to a politician were two completely different things that she would learn to disdain for. It is just that a women such as Arielle would grow ever so tired of such frivolous nonsense and it is because of this that she completely disdained and avoided politics altogether, only showing up to meetings only when absolutely needed or when ordered to by a superior. Arielle Dyrell is admired by so many and yet so very despised by those enemies who wish her dreadful misfortune though despite this, she still remains the strong person she wishes to be and aspires others to be like her.</s> <\|message\|>Hatuum "Test my abilities ?" Hatuum seemed to suddenly become even more attentive than he had been before, focusing in on the mercenary leader before turning his eyes briefly towards his companion Mycandros. He really would have liked to undergo such a test, though not because he'd have been absolutely convinced about his own superiority. In fact the very opposite was true: A test focusing on open combat would hardly cover the entire spectrum of an assassin's abilities while covering aspects that typically were not part of those - because they didn't need to. In his case the fall would likely be particularly degrading because one could reasonably expect that expectations were quite high, given his physical appearance. Yet... saying 'No' would be even more ignominious. What would they think if he'd say that ? Certainly there would be questions... "Okay... when, where and how ? And with - or against - whom ?"</s> <\|message\|>Amelia Amelia looked at Alenios as he spoke, her eyes onto him, and she let out a smile at his dedication. He was dedicated to her after all. That was not in doubt. But perhaps it was such that it led to momentary lapses in protocol, in a place where such a thing was paramount, and could not be readily dismissed. "The barbarians will have to be dealt with immediately. Perhaps the mercenaries here will prove useful?" Amelia looked at Amiarty's and Hatuum. Indeed they could prove useful as mercenaries for a mission to kill the new High King. Perhaps kill the king in such a way that would not immediately implicate Nocturne? Prevent the barbarians from solidifying further. A united Germania was a dangerous thought in Amelia's mind. "We need to kill this High King before he could invade Nocturne. But we cannot do something that will cause the barbarians to unite in anger. We will hire Amiartys and Hatuum on a contract to kill the High King. You will accompany them."</s> <\|message\|>Alenios Alenios listened intently of Amelia's proposition, he was not one to question Amelia's orders, but if this were to be an assassination mission, a man as large as Hatuum would be very suspicious and make the mission all the harder. "My lady, I do not doubt that Hatuum would be effective in direct combat, but he would be a bit unsuited for this mission." he said throwing a glance at the large man, before turning back to Amelia. "However, I can tell without any doubt that Amiartys would a great addition, I have seen him accomplish a great deal of amazing things during the Siege of Prague... and you that I don't give compliments that easily." to be honest, other than Amelia and Amiartys, he probably never complimented anyone else and mean it at the same time. However, he would not be one to question her orders, but that didn't mean that he couldn't take assurances. He approached Amelia and whispered in her ear. "To tell you the truth, I do not trust the large one, my lady, but I do not wish to question your decision, so I will take him, but only if you will allow me to take my two personal guards with me." he said, with his ever-present smile. "Plus, some of the nobles who dislike our closeness might see that an "accident" happens to me while on this mission, so I will be able to travel easier if my two trustiest bodyguards are with me."</s>	<\|message\|>Arielle Dryell "Oh, I would not necessarily consider it a trial of combat, Hatuum, though that is one of the obstacles you must grow through, of that I have no doubt you will pass." Amiartys examined him subtly. There was absolutely no doubt as to whether or not he would be a formidable warrior seeing that he frightened both Commodry and Mycandros. He was big, most definitely, in fact the largest man he'd ever seen. As tall as a statue and quite possibly as built, durable, and as strong as one if it were living. Amiartys didn't quite see him fighting in an open battlefield as he could easily be spotted directly and targeted by lancers, pikemen, or could be easily targeted from a volley of arrows. In that case, he would have to use large and thickened armor, perhaps made of titanium which was a very expensive material from the ancient world. Given the armor Hatuum already had on him, Amiartys deduced that it couldn't have been his role in a fight, maybe that was what he was hiding all along during this conversation. "Given we had just met, I don't necessarily know you quite that well, nor have I ever seen a man such as yourself not to mention your face. What are your specialties, you should say, as a mercenary?" Though before Hatuum could answer, the Elder of Nocturne spoke of the predisposition that was facing Nocturne. "Perhaps another time, I assume." Amiartys concluded before listening intently on what the Elder had to say on the matter that was facing Nocturne. An assassination on the High King? Amiartys thought to himself. That'll be no picnic, especially with someone was large as Hatuum here. There were tales once of giants who roamed the lands to the North, though through his own 127 years of living, Amiartys came across no such thing until he met Hatuum who was in fact not anywhere near the north. Certainly he would stand out as Alenio pointed out, though maybe if they had cut across mountain ranges and into forests it would not be as noticeable. He may even be an impressionable figure among the Germans if he had somehow infiltrated their premises, for it wasn't uncommon for those men to talk of such tales in an aspiring manner, but not to mention witness them before their own eyes. That would be a certainly entertaining thing to see. As long as they were quiet as to not arouse suspicion in attempt to assassinate this High King. It would definitely be no picnic, as he put it, especially if this High King, whoever he was, had gathered a host of the thousands of men of all of Germania together, not to mention if this High King had made treaties with the tribes of the northern barren reaches of Scandinavia, or the Ugric tribesmen of Old Russia. Maybe an army rather than a good company of experienced men would be more of a sufficient way to deal with this issue as it was a manner of national security. It wouldn't be a waste of good men, if the plan were to fail. Amiartys's skepticism began to fester within him, though came to terms with the Elder woman, who had lived for nearly a millennium. If a women such as Amelia could pick Amiartys like a babe in her arms with little to no strain, she could certainly kill a mortal human king with ease. After a brief silence, Amiartys finally get go of his skepticism and trusted the old and wise Amelia, subsequently accepting her offer, nodding his head towards Alenios, his old comrade and friend, and Amelia, the ancient Elder. "I'll gather my men whenever you need me to, Elder." Amiartys said. --- In the grand council chambers, Arielle forced herself to listen attentively to the important matters that were growing all the more disconcerting to the peoples of Nocturne. As rumors had speculated that Germans were beginning to form together under a high king were becoming true, Arielle grew all the more anxious about the next war that would take place during this moment of time. A large-scaled war destined to take place in Europa, a war that would determine the course of history like the many others before them. Events, like the ones her forefathers themselves took part in beforehand, the many mortal men who had put forth their lives for either the fame of many heroes they heard of in the grand tales and legends sung and told by generations of men or a few coins richer. History is written in the old papers of scholars and often exaggerated as legends of the common man, though to hold that flame of glory for yourself was, to Arielle, a salient opportunity. An opportunity far too great to miss. "My lady, I am at your disposal. As a loyal and trusted vassal of yours, I beg to take part of this expedition." Arielle implored. She had her father's ambition that was true, though his stubborn ability to prove himself on terms of battle. It would not necessarily be a wise move to send a noble Baroness to fight alongside only a handful of men, this she knew, but if she were to gather a force of perhaps a few good men along with having an Elder on their side might be suffice. She herself was a fine sword master, being taught by both Contentos and Amiartys, both hardened veterans who had fought alongside her father, though Amiartys had been fighting for generations before under their family when needed. The Dryell family had always considered him a good and loyal friend, a mercenary well worth the money needed to employ a soldier of such prowess. It had not been until forty years that he had grown fond of their family, often taking visits and helping condition the young and impressionable children to be better at yielding a sword, Arielle being one of them. She considered him as much of an uncle in the same way she viewed Contentos. They were both old nostalgic and amiable faces that she saw rather warm-heartedly and now she would see them as comrades, ready to fight and die if need be beside one another. Arielle was almost deathly eager to fight alongside Amiartys as she did years ago, as well as many others during this expedition to the mysterious north, which she had little to no personal knowledge or experience of. Though when Arielle turned to see Amiartys, her old and temporary mentor, she only saw a hidden expression of disappointment in his bright, hawkish brown eyes.</s>
<\|description\|>Arielle Dryell Arielle Dryell "Though life is simple, everyone will naturally intend on making it difficult." Basic Information Title/Occupation: Baroness, House of Dryell. Age: 31 Years Old. Place of Birth: Nocturne, Duchy of Transylvania, Barony of Dyrell. Current Residence: Nocturne, Duchy of Transylvania, Barony of Dyrell, Castle Lune. Title Status Information Title: Baroness, Head of Household to the Barony of Dyrell. Sworn Sword to the Head of Household of the Duchy and Providence of Transylvania, Vassal to the Elders of Nocturne. Barony Population: 13,000 Military Population: 4,546 Military Population Information: - 1,219 Able-Bodied Nobles, Knighted: Serve as Heavy Calvary. - 537 Conscripts: Mixed with Archers and very Light Infantry. - 2,790 Mercenary Company Members: 1,000 Heavy infantry, 1,500 Archers, rest is Light Infantry. Biography and Physical Appearance Physical Appearance Description: Arielle is a beautiful blonde human woman with fair skin, burdened with temporary youth. She is considerably tall, just reaching the height of what many consider what a tall man to be as she is also physically able to manage on her own. As many of her family members are, Arielle is blessed radiant blonde hair and piercing blue eyes like many in her family. Short Biography: Born into human nobility, Arielle shared the fate of the many before her in her family of House Dryell to swear loyalty to those who rule above them. Fortunately, she grew a high noble, completely predisposed to be seen as an important individual though predisposed to living the life as a 'lady'. She was the second youngest born out of five children in the Dryell Household. Growing up, Arielle had always been different, not just because she was an obvious tomboy but because she developed a ever-growing and noticeable aptitude as a soldier. Arielle's father saw this as an opportunity to make her into what she wanted, given he had exhausted all other options in conditioning her to be a traditional 'lady'. So, it was by her own choice, that Arielle decided to become a warrior such as the many famous maidens who happened to be women before her. It is not uncommon to see women serve as great warriors, though a human woman to be specific was. Nonetheless, Arielle was naturally stubborn and driven which would later serve as a positive in her roles not just as a soldier, but as a future leader of the Household. She would receive professional training in fighting as many noble men were given when they were young. At age eleven, tragedy struck the Dryell's on one unfortunate day when the eldest son, Marco was killed falling off his horse at age thirteen. She loved her brother and losing someone she loved taught her humility. Naturally, the second eldest son, Talmond was tasked with leading the Household after the father though growing up spoiled yield a weak man and Arielle had no patience for voluntary weakness. Though she loved him as she loved everyone in her family, she grew to despise having to excuse herself for her brother and the many mistakes he would make later in his life. It was at age fifteen that Talmond confessed himself for never wanting the position that had been placed at his feet at age eight and offered his predisposed position to his stronger sister. Despite insisting her brother keeping his title, Talmond eventually convinced his sister Arielle to take his place which she would later handle gracefully while Talmond traveled South for scholarly study. This would bring many conflicts among the family and the old traditions of household rule, traditions she would later learn to persevere. It was in the last few years of teen-hood did Arielle prove herself worthy of a man's position during the many conflicts the nation was facing regarding the raids by bandits. She was noted for having lead men into fierce battles and against odds that were not in their favor. In the political world, she had honed her skills as a politician as she did a Household leader, having to deal with the constant reprisals, though not because she was a women. It was there that she learned that fighting battles as a warrior compared to a politician were two completely different things that she would learn to disdain for. It is just that a women such as Arielle would grow ever so tired of such frivolous nonsense and it is because of this that she completely disdained and avoided politics altogether, only showing up to meetings only when absolutely needed or when ordered to by a superior. Arielle Dyrell is admired by so many and yet so very despised by those enemies who wish her dreadful misfortune though despite this, she still remains the strong person she wishes to be and aspires others to be like her.</s> <\|message\|>Anriette Argentine (Du'lac) The 'meeting' that followed the actual grand affair was something that interested the young Argentine heiress considerably more than all the lower level politics that had proceeded it, loitering for some time, the flame-haired woman approached the increasingly eclectic group, a pleasing, easy smile on her lips. She could be quite the charmer when she wanted to be, and right now she exuded the careful grace of a diplomat and noblewoman. "I couldn't help but notice that this discussion quite focuses on the possibility of this new German King, frightful business no?" Her accent was clear, a rolling, smooth tone, but not enough to disguise the meaning of her words. "Both interests I represent here have little to gain from a powerful barbarian ruler, and I do have a few connections in the region." She continued, tossing her ginger mane, heavily styled, slightly. It wasn't a shade naturally found among the peoples of the Coast, and was a clear hallmark of her father's mysterious origins in the North, and whatever contacts she might have there. "I can provide whatever support is necessary, provided I am involved." she added, with a slight grin, not quite reaching her ears.</s> <\|message\|>Amelia Amelia listened to Alenios speak, and it was a concern, Nocturne was not exempt from courtly intrigues. Backstabbing, gossip, swindling, bribery, even down right murder have and probably will happen within the political circles of Nocturne. Despite being what could be the epitome of civilization in this world, it was immune to the depredations of humanity and trans humans, it was not immune to the decay seeking to worm its way through society. "Bring your guards." she said to Alenios. Turning to Amiartys and Hatuum, but speaking to the former, Amelia regarded them all before her eyes. "A dangerous threat is forming to the North, within the forest of Germania, rumors of a High King. A united Germania is a dangerous reality, tens of thousands of them pouring across our borders, a long and grueling war that would be. But if we can kill this in its nursery, excise the root from the soil, before its sprouts fruit it'd be a boon to us all. Arielle, you will accompany Alenios as well, your request is accepted. You all may take what you need." Amelia at that stood up and made to leave, but stopped, and turned half way to everyone, "If you all accept, gather at the Western Gate of Valeria's outer wall." At that she left, to prepare, and lay plans to keep Nocturne's clockwork government working efficiently without her being present to exercise executive powers. Moving throughout the citadel, progressively downwards, through hallways and dim galleries. Down many stair cases. Until she came to a vaulted chamber deep within the earth. The air was cool, mist hung around the stone masonry, and on the ground was a set of three gold icons. Stylized letters, the first letters in the names of the Elders, their place of rest when not awake. A sealed chamber to keep them safe. The advanced locking mechanisms using devices held over by the Elders since before the atomic wars long forgotten by mankind. For none but the Elders remained who knew of their workings. Moving to the one with the icon 'V' she flicked aside a small gold panel. Raising her wrist to her mouth she gave a small bite. Ruby rich blood trickled down into the pan. A pan cold to the touch, kept cold by some mechanical means long forgotten, and she closed the panel. With her index finger she adjusted a set of numerals to read 31. Thirty-one days until the blood preserved in the pan would be dispensed to whomever slumbered in the vault. To Vlad. So that he may awaken from hibernation and take the reins of power in Amelia's stead should anything befall her.</s> <\|message\|>Hatuum Hatuum nodded in silence, but full of purpose. It was always a good thing to explicity signal the contractee that one did agree with his terms, thereby formally making the deal. The assassin firmly believed that this was true even if one's employer told that the contract would be regarded as accepted implicitly by showing up at a certain location at a certain time. Then he could see the elder vampire leave. There was no point in trying to stop her to ask more questions - he probably would have done it if it had not been her. The information provided could very well be regarded as sparse and he wasn't happy about it. Yet... if it was the elders themselves wanting to hire him there were good chances that the payment would be equally high-ranking, even if the job was bound to be difficult, too. What a lucky decision it had been to go here... Definitely worth listening to all this political gibberish! Hatuum turned his head and attention back to the mercenary leader. "Alright. I'll see you at the allotted rendezvous point then ? Greetings..." He nodded towards Amiartys in a friendly manner as well, then slowly accelerated to make his way out of the building. The assassin deliberately restrained himself to a snail's pace: If the other man would feel the urge to add or ask something - he'd still have the opportunity to do so right now. Otherwise however Hatuum would leave. There was a lot to prepare for he'd not go on this mission without his own equipment.</s>	<\|message\|>Arielle Dryell And with that, the Elder left the council hall, as abruptly as she usually did, though it was Arielle that was on his mind. That fool... Amiartys thought to himself. A baroness, head of the household, wants to go on a mercenary mission? What the hell is she thinking? He could see it in her flamboyant and radiant green eyes, the eager and flaming passion to pursue something she had never done before, to expand her limitations. It was true that she was a different woman, certainly no maiden wanting to be rescued by some knight in shining armor for she was one! No, Arielle was no ordinary woman at all and certainly no ordinary human in addition to that fact. A wild-blooded woman, descended from the Germans who migrated into Nocturne and forged the great noble houses north just several hundred years past. Many could derive her rather masculine behavior from being raised in a household filled with younger brothers, having to lead and deal with men nearly all of her life. Amiartys, however, thought otherwise, perhaps he thought she was born that way, a human born astray from many others. As admittingly intrepid as she was, Arielle was however predisposed to show her worth in the world, often too boldly as it had gotten her in trouble many times in the past when she was smaller as Amiartys could remember. That certainly did not change. Change must only occur someone, so as long as that person is willing to make that change themselves. Arielle was no exception to that. She had her father's ambition, this he could admit, though his rash valor, ready to prance as quickly as a rabbit if ever one was to be so eager to jump into the call to duty. Thus the predisposition was further based downward to his daughter, who he did not expect to be a soldier at all, not to mention the true Head of the Household as a woman. He had yet to teach her humility. Women who fought during vicious wars were definitely not at all uncommon, though hardly of them were human, especially as young as Arielle was. That he could again give her respect for, but to risk throwing her life away for what? To bottle fame, if not for at least once? Like the many shield maidens she heard of in her ancestry many hundreds of years ago? It was idiotic and foolish he thought, why she would allow herself to do this he had no idea but he knew he could not force her to stay. She was too stubborn for that and she was perfectly able to make decisions on her own though Amiartys wished he could've taught her better. "Mycandros, gather the men, wherever they roam, and have them bare arms and have them pack to leave soon from this city." Amiartys ordered. Mycandros complied without hesitation, silent as he normally wasn't though it was whenever he knew he had disappointed Amiartys as he did earlier when Amelia had her hands wrapped around his neck. "You must leave too, Commodry, and let me stay here just for a while." "Aw, but I-" "No buts, go, boy. Unless you want to walk all the way to Germania. Besides, I'm surprised you're not bored in a place like this." He said, referring to the typical and rather boring political discussions. The boy however semed to be impressed by the individuals attending this meeting than by the discussions. "Mycandros, take him with you. You are to take charge for now, I shall meet you at the Inn. Now off with you!" He gesticulated a cue for his men to leave with haste. Amiartys could not deal with them now, he had to talk to his old and rather rash student whom he partially raised. "Yes sir." Mycandros complied, signaling Amiartys's guards to leave his side. Briskly, they left the large council hall that had already been emptying out, the large man following behind the crowd. It wasn't until it was more than halfway empty that Amiartys could admire the architecture of the building. The arches and symmetry of the building, rebuilt from when a time the old world before the Great Wars where those who lived during that era would call it ancient, though it were polished as as if it were new. The waxed mahogany that shined almost as bright as metal, the radiant windows shining from the rising morning sun that pierced into the council hall, the clear, reflective, and fine marble that lay on the floor. It was a fine city, as the rumors said they were, a city Amiartys had nearly forgotten about in these 30 years since being away. "Alright. I'll see you at the allotted rendezvous point then ? Greetings..." Said the large man as he left the building. "Yes, yes, Hatuum. Goodbye, and be sure you are ready before our departure." he reminded him, though Amiartys already knew he was well prepared. He looked as if he were a hardened veteran of violence, he had come across many his many youthful years and with that, Hatuum had left the building, leaving Amiartys to contend with his old student in the council hall.</s>
<\|description\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir Age: 33 Race: Human (Sub-Saharan African in appearance) Appearance: Rintor is a smallish, very dark-skinned man in his early thirties, wiry but muscular. He has dark grey-brown eyes and is vaguely handsome. However, he suffers from Alopecia Universalis, which renders him completely hairless across his entire body. He usually dresses in a simple black robe, with black leather boots, loose black pants, a handful of fur pelts, and a thick brown leather belt with a trio of leather satchels around his waist. In his youth, he would often wear a mask that covered most of his face. However, he doesn't wear it anymore. Role: Linguist, assassin, scout Bio: Rintor comes from Boshir, a powerful fiefdom in the south, where he was the third son in a family from his country's equivalent of the landed gentry. His father and grandfather had both served with distinction in the king's army as armed scouts in previous conflicts, rising to become commanders. Rintor seemed destined for the same path, and indeed demonstrated considerable aptitude as a child. However, he manifested somewhat unexpected magical abilities upon puberty and was sent for schooling in the arcane arts. He showed little promise with higher magicks, but excelled at what was called 'lightbending', which, in short, allows him to bend the visible light spectrum so as to appear all-but invisible. Before long it appeared that he had reached a dead-end. While lightbending was a useful skill, people who trained at the academy of thaumaturgy were strictly forbidden from using the abilities learned there for violent ends. When war erupted with a neighboring Elven kingdom, Rintor, then only seventeen, remained at the academy. He had flourished during his years there and grown into a thoughtful young man. However, after a year, the military situation turned for the worse, and he was personally pulled out of the academy upon orders of the king and placed into the army as a commissioned officer. Whatever his moral qualms, Rintor served as his father and grandfather had before him. If his swordsmanship was subpar for his station, he had little use for it during scouting missions. However, one can only last for so long in a war without resorting to violence. Forced to kill an enemy scout who would have revealed his army's position, Rintor had shed his first blood. Surrounded by martial culture, his guilt was quickly assuaged. From that point onward, he became the leader of an advance party that quickly became infamous for its lightning strikes, guerilla warfare, and sabotage. His lightbending skills made him almost absurdly effective, and before long Rintor was doing more than scouting. Assassinations came next, followed by long missions deep into enemy territory. His initial moral objections having become a thing of the past, and fed a steady diet of awards, honours, propaganda, and berserker mushrooms, Rintor became a gleeful killing machine. Gifted a pair of finely honed daggers by the king himself, the lightbender's trail of bodies grew until he was feared, revered, and loathed across much of the continent. It became something of a legend that he would always appear out of nowhere a bare moment before striking the fatal blow, smiling like the devil himself. His high (or low) point, came when he infiltrated the bedchambers of the Elven king and murdered him and his entire family in cold blood. This plunged the country into civil war and forced their interim leadership to sue for peace terms. Back home, Rintor was hailed as a hero, but with the war over and the accolades, drugs, and honours drying up, he felt increasingly hollow. He longed for purpose, which he attempted to find in hunting, bloodsport, and horse racing. All were dead ends. The academy had long since severed all ties with him and he was not allowed to return there. At some point, he disappeared from society altogether. Nobody is entirely certain where he went for seven years, but when he reappeared, he was able to speak six new languages and he seemed to have found his peace. He sat outside of the academy in meditation, drinking only one bottle of water each day, for twenty-six days and nights until he was finally granted an audience with the provost. The price that he paid for readmission to the academy was considerable: all of his lands, honours, titles, and possessions save what he had carried with him, as well as a solemn vow of non-violence to be broken upon pain of a degenerative curse that will slowly and painfully cause him to waste away. For the next three years, he ensconced himself within its hallowed halls, re-emerging at around the same time that the opening of the portal was announced. He appeared before the king, dressed in his simple black robes, and requested that he be the first of his nation to step through the portal. Given his status as a war hero, it was a request that could hardly be refused. Nobody knows what his motivation is except for Rintor himself, though one would assume that it has to do with the fascination of exploring a new land and finding redemption in the process. Skills: Rintor can move with the utmost stealth and silence. Even elven ears struggle to detect him. He is almost ridiculously proficient with knives and daggers, though he has sworn never to use them for violence against another sentient being so long as he lives. He is able to draw maps and describe topography in considerable detail, though perhaps not as well as he might've in his youth. He is adept at sabotage, guerilla warfare, and has some tactical abilities, though these are qualities that he tries not to advertise. Rintor is a skilled horseman and reasonably proficient with a bow, though not what one would call 'naturally talented'. He can fast for an extended period of time and possesses basic survival skills. He has an innate ear for languages and has studied linguistics over the prvious handful of years, though he tends to speak with a thick accent. Magic: Rintor is able to bend light so that he blends in flawlessly with his surroundings for extended periods of time when still and short bursts while moving. This effectively makes him able to turn invisible. However, the ability only extends to the visible light spectrum, and requires considerable concentration. He also struggles to blend into backdrops with especially intricate patterns or with many colours and a great deal of motion. Equipment: Rintor has the clothes on his back, a flask of water in one satchel, some parchment and a quill in another, and some dried fruits, jerky, and nuts in another. He also has a pair of wickedly sharp daggers gifted to him by the king, but he wants nothing to do with them. Other: Rintor is quiet and reserved – some would say aloof and subtly arrogant. He never shows his teeth anymore when smiling. He seems to be highly intelligent, though he will rarely correct people's mistakes. He also appears to have little to no interest in women. Though he has tried hard to train it out of himself, he harbours a degree of suspicion towards elves and many near-human beings. Before Rintor went through the portal, the king gifted him his old daggers back and bade him take them through the portal. Rintor could not disobey with so many eyes on him, but he plans to drop them the moment that he steps through, and not just for his own sake. Given his past and his distinctive appearance, I'd assume that he would be known to many of the other characters, at least by name and reputation.</s> <\|message\|>The Cast Ayana Ayana huffed at the Dwarf's dismissal of her indignation. She didn't like that he thought certain work was beneath him either. But, she didn't want to start a fight the first day on the trip so she left it at that. Maybe he didn't like shoveling dung because he was so short and his nose was so close to it... The thought of it made her giggle and her good spirits were restored. And so, she joined the group as they began walking toward the mountain that loomed on the horizon. Then, their group leader, or at least the person who was acting as the leader, came up with an idea. "A watchtower? I think that's a great idea! Ayana said brightly. "We can even put a weather vane on top of it! I'm no carpenter, but I'd be happy to help you build it. I helped my family fix up their bar all the time when it needed repairs. It can't be that much different." Ayana walked in stride beside Esailia. She liked the Mithra's "let's get to work" attitude. Plus, she didn't have to feel weird about being the only person with animal ears. It was odd how few kitsune their were in the more urban areas. @Esailia * * * As the party neared the mountains, the grass became thinner, more sparse, and more prickly. The soil gradually faded from a dark brown to a light tan. The temperature was still pleasantly warm, though it was beginning to cool as the sun drooped lower in the sky. By its position, it was now late afternoon, approaching the evening. The mountains were still a half-day's hike away and it would likely be dark before they reached them. Still, the party drew close enough to them now to discern some of their features. They were a series of peaks that seemed to have valleys running through them, and swirling patterns in the stone that were made more intense by the orange backdrop of the sky. By the looks of it, the sun would be setting about 45 degrees away from them, making their mountains North-West-ish by virtue of sunset.</s> <\|message\|>Zeke As they neared the mountains, Zeke paid attention to the sun. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, though he'd need a few nights to be sure. He didn't know whether this was a heliocentric or geocentric earth - that was, if it was even a planet at all. An idea struck him. What if it was a moon? Were they orbiting a greater planet now, and was that one orbiting still yet another planet? The thought was absolutely ludicrous, though fascinating and thus worth contemplating. But another time. Kneeling momentarily, Zeke gathered a few solid rocks. They were abundant in this area, so he decided it would be best for him to take some now. He quickly stored them in his pack and pulled out a few of his wood rods. In order to help him make sense of this new world, he would need to run a few tests. That was precisely why he brought these rods, and so he began to work at them, boring holes and cutting notches with a utility knife. Hopefully he'd be ready for his first test by the time they set up camp. If he wasn't, though, it was hardly an issue. Being an astronomer, he'd have to stay up through the night anyway. Zeke nodded slightly as Esailia talked, but refrained from asking her any more questions. Other group members wanted her attention, and he didn't feel like fighting for it - especially when he had nothing worthwhile to say. When she mentioned that he might work with others to determine cardinal directions or otherwise develop a map, he wasn't very enthusiastic, especially considering the people he was to work with. The halfling - Shel, was it? - didn't seem so bad, but Rhen was a different story. As soon as Zeke was aware that a changeling would be entering the portal with him, he knew there would be problems. How could anyone trust a creature with the ability to change its appearance at will? It put him a little at ease that the changeling seemed so unsophisticated, and thus less of a threat, but still he couldn't know for certain whether that was accurate. Rhen could be hiding anything. But as much as the changeling was dangerous, Rhen could be an even more formidable ally - provided Zeke would be able to withstand their apparent lack of maturity. It was for this reason that he approached Rhen and tried to strike up a conversation, thinking long and hard about the first thing he would say. Do you often use your face as a projection of your personal qualities? He coughed. "I've not met a changeling before. If you don't mind, er, what kinds of forms can you take?" he asked politely though curiously, absently whittling.</s> <\|message\|>Numzom Deepfeet (Half-Elven Swordsman) The party is still half way to the mountains, the mountains from the distance looked like a wave of rocks, possibly by a lava stream years ago, he's no geologist, but he can guess. Numzom has not made any friends what so ever in this exploration, bummer, he has an idea, making friends with the Kitsune farmer, since she practically has the same attitude as him, he thought "Maybe ill talk to her, maybe". The party still is walking, looking for a peak near a stream, and since no one is talking to him, he'll just talk to the spirit and munch an apple.</s> <\|message\|>Rhen Rhen had lapsed into silence after her initial round of flirting. Well, admittedly, she'd not stopped talking, just began dictating the expedition log again. "Was decided to set up camp at mountains visible from portal location due to defense considerations. With entry direction of portal taken as north, as no lodestone offered, mountains are NNE, estimated day's travel on foot. Travel time will be revised after journey completed." She caught the quill between two of her fingers as the messy human in the blue cloak spoke to her. She had mentally dismissed him as soon as she saw him. Honestly, there were far better looking people to get entangled with, physically, emotionally or politically. He really did look like the bottom of the barrel, but her cousin had made a living down there. Not that Rhen would like it there. She pulled a party trick she hadn't in a while: her hair turned to a spectrum from right to left, from white-blond through red and brown to deep midnight black. Similarly, her skin went in bands from pale elvish white through dwarven ruddiness and halfling chestnut to the darkest Bashirian black, hitting most human shades along the way. She also sharpened one ear to a fine elven point and the other to a drooping Bashirian lobe. "I'm the girl of your dreams, honey," she deflected the question while answering it. "Or the man, if that gets you standing." She offered a grin her family had refined to be as charming and sexy as possible on a woman's face. Many a pocket had been fleeced when Rhen and her mother had worked together with that smile. She wiped her face with a hand, resuming the dark, freckled look she had previously. "Or you're not the sort to stand up for anything, are you?"</s>	<\|message\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir "A watchtower would be good," Rintor answered belatedly, having become a bit wrapped up in gently letting the changeling down. He no longer holds much interest in Earthly pleasures, or so he often tells himself. For the past few minutes, he's been trying to get the lay of the land distance-wise. At least the mystery of cardinal directions seemes to have been solved. "However," he adds, "water must be our first priority, as our supply is not great and a warm stew sounds...delicious." He glances at the halfling and can't help but smile. Helpful little fellow - the type who's the glue of expeditions like this. "That's my reason for heading in the direction of the foothills. Valleys provide natural and predictable places for water to flow and collect. I suggest that we make a temporary camp in a defensible position before sundown. We'll have the entire day tomorrow to scout out and set up a more permanent position."</s>
<\|description\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir Age: 33 Race: Human (Sub-Saharan African in appearance) Appearance: Rintor is a smallish, very dark-skinned man in his early thirties, wiry but muscular. He has dark grey-brown eyes and is vaguely handsome. However, he suffers from Alopecia Universalis, which renders him completely hairless across his entire body. He usually dresses in a simple black robe, with black leather boots, loose black pants, a handful of fur pelts, and a thick brown leather belt with a trio of leather satchels around his waist. In his youth, he would often wear a mask that covered most of his face. However, he doesn't wear it anymore. Role: Linguist, assassin, scout Bio: Rintor comes from Boshir, a powerful fiefdom in the south, where he was the third son in a family from his country's equivalent of the landed gentry. His father and grandfather had both served with distinction in the king's army as armed scouts in previous conflicts, rising to become commanders. Rintor seemed destined for the same path, and indeed demonstrated considerable aptitude as a child. However, he manifested somewhat unexpected magical abilities upon puberty and was sent for schooling in the arcane arts. He showed little promise with higher magicks, but excelled at what was called 'lightbending', which, in short, allows him to bend the visible light spectrum so as to appear all-but invisible. Before long it appeared that he had reached a dead-end. While lightbending was a useful skill, people who trained at the academy of thaumaturgy were strictly forbidden from using the abilities learned there for violent ends. When war erupted with a neighboring Elven kingdom, Rintor, then only seventeen, remained at the academy. He had flourished during his years there and grown into a thoughtful young man. However, after a year, the military situation turned for the worse, and he was personally pulled out of the academy upon orders of the king and placed into the army as a commissioned officer. Whatever his moral qualms, Rintor served as his father and grandfather had before him. If his swordsmanship was subpar for his station, he had little use for it during scouting missions. However, one can only last for so long in a war without resorting to violence. Forced to kill an enemy scout who would have revealed his army's position, Rintor had shed his first blood. Surrounded by martial culture, his guilt was quickly assuaged. From that point onward, he became the leader of an advance party that quickly became infamous for its lightning strikes, guerilla warfare, and sabotage. His lightbending skills made him almost absurdly effective, and before long Rintor was doing more than scouting. Assassinations came next, followed by long missions deep into enemy territory. His initial moral objections having become a thing of the past, and fed a steady diet of awards, honours, propaganda, and berserker mushrooms, Rintor became a gleeful killing machine. Gifted a pair of finely honed daggers by the king himself, the lightbender's trail of bodies grew until he was feared, revered, and loathed across much of the continent. It became something of a legend that he would always appear out of nowhere a bare moment before striking the fatal blow, smiling like the devil himself. His high (or low) point, came when he infiltrated the bedchambers of the Elven king and murdered him and his entire family in cold blood. This plunged the country into civil war and forced their interim leadership to sue for peace terms. Back home, Rintor was hailed as a hero, but with the war over and the accolades, drugs, and honours drying up, he felt increasingly hollow. He longed for purpose, which he attempted to find in hunting, bloodsport, and horse racing. All were dead ends. The academy had long since severed all ties with him and he was not allowed to return there. At some point, he disappeared from society altogether. Nobody is entirely certain where he went for seven years, but when he reappeared, he was able to speak six new languages and he seemed to have found his peace. He sat outside of the academy in meditation, drinking only one bottle of water each day, for twenty-six days and nights until he was finally granted an audience with the provost. The price that he paid for readmission to the academy was considerable: all of his lands, honours, titles, and possessions save what he had carried with him, as well as a solemn vow of non-violence to be broken upon pain of a degenerative curse that will slowly and painfully cause him to waste away. For the next three years, he ensconced himself within its hallowed halls, re-emerging at around the same time that the opening of the portal was announced. He appeared before the king, dressed in his simple black robes, and requested that he be the first of his nation to step through the portal. Given his status as a war hero, it was a request that could hardly be refused. Nobody knows what his motivation is except for Rintor himself, though one would assume that it has to do with the fascination of exploring a new land and finding redemption in the process. Skills: Rintor can move with the utmost stealth and silence. Even elven ears struggle to detect him. He is almost ridiculously proficient with knives and daggers, though he has sworn never to use them for violence against another sentient being so long as he lives. He is able to draw maps and describe topography in considerable detail, though perhaps not as well as he might've in his youth. He is adept at sabotage, guerilla warfare, and has some tactical abilities, though these are qualities that he tries not to advertise. Rintor is a skilled horseman and reasonably proficient with a bow, though not what one would call 'naturally talented'. He can fast for an extended period of time and possesses basic survival skills. He has an innate ear for languages and has studied linguistics over the prvious handful of years, though he tends to speak with a thick accent. Magic: Rintor is able to bend light so that he blends in flawlessly with his surroundings for extended periods of time when still and short bursts while moving. This effectively makes him able to turn invisible. However, the ability only extends to the visible light spectrum, and requires considerable concentration. He also struggles to blend into backdrops with especially intricate patterns or with many colours and a great deal of motion. Equipment: Rintor has the clothes on his back, a flask of water in one satchel, some parchment and a quill in another, and some dried fruits, jerky, and nuts in another. He also has a pair of wickedly sharp daggers gifted to him by the king, but he wants nothing to do with them. Other: Rintor is quiet and reserved – some would say aloof and subtly arrogant. He never shows his teeth anymore when smiling. He seems to be highly intelligent, though he will rarely correct people's mistakes. He also appears to have little to no interest in women. Though he has tried hard to train it out of himself, he harbours a degree of suspicion towards elves and many near-human beings. Before Rintor went through the portal, the king gifted him his old daggers back and bade him take them through the portal. Rintor could not disobey with so many eyes on him, but he plans to drop them the moment that he steps through, and not just for his own sake. Given his past and his distinctive appearance, I'd assume that he would be known to many of the other characters, at least by name and reputation.</s> <\|message\|>Shel "Surefoot" Applewood Shel was enjoying simply being out in the open world again, if you let your mind drift you could pretty easily forget that you weren't just going for a day hike out to the mountains. There was a certain pleasure to be found just putting one foot in front of the other, feeling your pack shift with every step. Particularly since they were not just trailblazers here but THE trailblazers. This was virgin territory, all of it. The only thing that could make this better would be a nice breeze. Maybe a good stew. The Mithra asked if anyone had seen animals and Zeke replied quickly with a rather astute observation. "That's a good point," Shel said, tilting his head back to help his voice carry while still keeping an eye on the ground below to avoid tripping, "Can't see any sign of other folk out here. Nothing deliberate, nothing purpose built out here. But..." He paused, falling out of sync with the group while he peered about for a second then caught up. "We've covered a decent distance now and I for one haven't seen a sign of any life at all. That is peculiar." He caught up with the group and spoke to them in general but to Zeke in particular, "No deer, no wee little rabbits, or something of the sort, that might make sense. Like ya said, scared off by new sounds and smells and all that." He sniffed at his armpits and scrunched his nose up in mock disgust, "Makes sense it does. What doesn't make sense though?" He gestures all around them, "No birds in the distance, no hawks or crows. No bugs in the grass, or on our clothes or flitting about. No lizards soaking up the heat on these rocks." He pauses for a moment as an idea pops into his head. "Just a minute yeah?" Not waiting for a response he looks about for any large flat rocks in grassy areas. Finding one he kneels in close, looks back towards the group smiling, and slowly lifts the rock up looking under for any signs of life.</s> <\|message\|>Tori, nickname: T @Esailia Tori walks up to Shel, " where do you think they all went,i mean there should at least be bugs" she says. Tori moves her dark blue hair from her face. Tori takes out the bow she packed and an arrow, ' if i can find a bird anywhere even if it's little then i food can be made and we can set up camp' she thought to herself as she looked at the sky. Nothing, nothing at all no birds, bugs or anything. Tori walks around trying to find water maybe there are fish there. " anyone see a pond or something?" she asks out loud. She looks at Shel to see what he is doing. 'hmm' she thinks to herself.</s> <\|message\|>Victor Warnock AKA Vicky, Vic, or V It was dark for a time as the man in the crate slept, the constant cheers of the crowd around this group of intrepid adventures and explorers were only screams melded with fire in the man's mind. What this man saw in his dreams was beautiful at first. Dancing in a meadow, only him and a girl, she was short with fox like brown and red ears and tail, long soft blond hair flowed over her shoulders, deep caring blue eyes pierced his very soul, and the smile she had could warm any man's cold heart. He reached for her grasping toward her beckoning Kind hand, yet his touch turned her to ash and the meadow was swept up with fire until it was all he could see. Suddenly he stood in the center of a burning village, a familiar village, his village. Blood dripped off him and his ax, bodies strewn around him, all with familiar faces and a look of either horror or bewilderment frozen on the corpses, how could this man, their friend, do this? Then swirling through the smoke another man stood his figure imposing over the village like a giant. This man wore a black robe and a cracked red mask that allowed a broken smile to be shown through as he looked at this murderer before him and knew in that instant there was no one left for that man to turn to, to run to, he was in control. The rocking of the cart woke him first and it took him a moment to take in his surroundings, the iron restraints were still on his arms, they allowed limited movement but were loud. The crate he was in was cramped and had items in it that read, at least what he could see, were seeds of some kind. Slowly he attempted to lift the lid, two hinges on one side and a small lock on the other, simple pine wood and iron rivets used in its construction. The sound of voices from outside the wagon made him freeze for a moment, casually he looked through some slits in the wood. Someone was driving the cart and the sky looked orange, "Dusk" he whispered to himself before giving himself a mental situation report and a plan. First off he needed to get out of this crate but doing so will shift the rest of the load that is resting on top of said crate, then what? "Remember that time we got caught in the forest?" a deep dark voice echoed through his mind, "why hello to you too Argor" he whispered quietly. "Child, that time in the forest, break the lock or the crate then jump and roll out the back in one move. Then run and don't look back." The voice was a bit condescending but he had a plan, whatever guards were out there probably thought he was going to be out for a lot longer and were not going to expect him to be awake. So he slowly wrapped his head in what manner he could to cover himself then waited and positioned himself to strike the lock and hinge that kept him in, after a few deep breaths to mentally prepare himself he began his escape. With a loud crack his fist splintered the wood and he pushed the crate open shifting the supply's in the cart, in two steps he was at the back of the cart and with another lunge and a roll he was ready to start sprinting off. But he hesitated he knelt there on the ground his hands feeling the earth beneath him and slowly he stood looking at the earth slipping through his hands. "I don't feel him" he whispered, "neither do i, the presence… its gone" Argor seemed confused. "We are free? WE ARE FREE!" he shouted as he looked to the sky and slowly looked around, "now, where the hell am I?"</s>	<\|message\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir Rintor scowls as he walks. The mountains looming in the near distance seem more arid than they'd looked from afar. It's likely that the party is headed into their rain shadow. Open ground is more defensible with a party this large and unlikely to travel stealthily, but voyaging into the mountains proper is inadvisable. Finding and following a river or stream into he foothills is our best bet. Then there's the startling lack of native fauna that more than one person has observed. Briefly, Rintor adds his voice to the growing chorus of agreement. The halfling and the tall, gangling girl - still half a child - go to investigate, while the half-elf seems eager only for the personal glory of slaying a beast in combat, uncognizant or perhaps uncaring of the fact that hoping to protect others from danger means hoping for it to exist in the first place. All of these little storylines come to a halt before they have the chance to resolve themselves, however, when a sudden, unexpected noise emerges from the depths of the heavily-laden cart. It quickly turns into a man breaking free, supplies tumbling to the ground, and - Rintor does not wait a moment longer. He centers himself, reaches for the threads of light, and grabs them none too gently. Disappearing from view, he sprints toward where the man is leaping from the cart, landing in a roll, and starting to rise. The stowaway pauses, his face becoming pained, pensive, bewildered, and then jubilant in sequence. Then The Blade of Boshir appears in front of him, black-robed and as menacing as he cares to look at this point in his life. "We know no more than you, stranger. Now you had best explain the Who are you, and what the meaning of this intrusion is." He rests his hands on his daggers, feeling a long-forgotten or perhaps long-repressed rush, and quickly clamps down on it again. The consequences would be too great.</s>
<\|description\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir Age: 33 Race: Human (Sub-Saharan African in appearance) Appearance: Rintor is a smallish, very dark-skinned man in his early thirties, wiry but muscular. He has dark grey-brown eyes and is vaguely handsome. However, he suffers from Alopecia Universalis, which renders him completely hairless across his entire body. He usually dresses in a simple black robe, with black leather boots, loose black pants, a handful of fur pelts, and a thick brown leather belt with a trio of leather satchels around his waist. In his youth, he would often wear a mask that covered most of his face. However, he doesn't wear it anymore. Role: Linguist, assassin, scout Bio: Rintor comes from Boshir, a powerful fiefdom in the south, where he was the third son in a family from his country's equivalent of the landed gentry. His father and grandfather had both served with distinction in the king's army as armed scouts in previous conflicts, rising to become commanders. Rintor seemed destined for the same path, and indeed demonstrated considerable aptitude as a child. However, he manifested somewhat unexpected magical abilities upon puberty and was sent for schooling in the arcane arts. He showed little promise with higher magicks, but excelled at what was called 'lightbending', which, in short, allows him to bend the visible light spectrum so as to appear all-but invisible. Before long it appeared that he had reached a dead-end. While lightbending was a useful skill, people who trained at the academy of thaumaturgy were strictly forbidden from using the abilities learned there for violent ends. When war erupted with a neighboring Elven kingdom, Rintor, then only seventeen, remained at the academy. He had flourished during his years there and grown into a thoughtful young man. However, after a year, the military situation turned for the worse, and he was personally pulled out of the academy upon orders of the king and placed into the army as a commissioned officer. Whatever his moral qualms, Rintor served as his father and grandfather had before him. If his swordsmanship was subpar for his station, he had little use for it during scouting missions. However, one can only last for so long in a war without resorting to violence. Forced to kill an enemy scout who would have revealed his army's position, Rintor had shed his first blood. Surrounded by martial culture, his guilt was quickly assuaged. From that point onward, he became the leader of an advance party that quickly became infamous for its lightning strikes, guerilla warfare, and sabotage. His lightbending skills made him almost absurdly effective, and before long Rintor was doing more than scouting. Assassinations came next, followed by long missions deep into enemy territory. His initial moral objections having become a thing of the past, and fed a steady diet of awards, honours, propaganda, and berserker mushrooms, Rintor became a gleeful killing machine. Gifted a pair of finely honed daggers by the king himself, the lightbender's trail of bodies grew until he was feared, revered, and loathed across much of the continent. It became something of a legend that he would always appear out of nowhere a bare moment before striking the fatal blow, smiling like the devil himself. His high (or low) point, came when he infiltrated the bedchambers of the Elven king and murdered him and his entire family in cold blood. This plunged the country into civil war and forced their interim leadership to sue for peace terms. Back home, Rintor was hailed as a hero, but with the war over and the accolades, drugs, and honours drying up, he felt increasingly hollow. He longed for purpose, which he attempted to find in hunting, bloodsport, and horse racing. All were dead ends. The academy had long since severed all ties with him and he was not allowed to return there. At some point, he disappeared from society altogether. Nobody is entirely certain where he went for seven years, but when he reappeared, he was able to speak six new languages and he seemed to have found his peace. He sat outside of the academy in meditation, drinking only one bottle of water each day, for twenty-six days and nights until he was finally granted an audience with the provost. The price that he paid for readmission to the academy was considerable: all of his lands, honours, titles, and possessions save what he had carried with him, as well as a solemn vow of non-violence to be broken upon pain of a degenerative curse that will slowly and painfully cause him to waste away. For the next three years, he ensconced himself within its hallowed halls, re-emerging at around the same time that the opening of the portal was announced. He appeared before the king, dressed in his simple black robes, and requested that he be the first of his nation to step through the portal. Given his status as a war hero, it was a request that could hardly be refused. Nobody knows what his motivation is except for Rintor himself, though one would assume that it has to do with the fascination of exploring a new land and finding redemption in the process. Skills: Rintor can move with the utmost stealth and silence. Even elven ears struggle to detect him. He is almost ridiculously proficient with knives and daggers, though he has sworn never to use them for violence against another sentient being so long as he lives. He is able to draw maps and describe topography in considerable detail, though perhaps not as well as he might've in his youth. He is adept at sabotage, guerilla warfare, and has some tactical abilities, though these are qualities that he tries not to advertise. Rintor is a skilled horseman and reasonably proficient with a bow, though not what one would call 'naturally talented'. He can fast for an extended period of time and possesses basic survival skills. He has an innate ear for languages and has studied linguistics over the prvious handful of years, though he tends to speak with a thick accent. Magic: Rintor is able to bend light so that he blends in flawlessly with his surroundings for extended periods of time when still and short bursts while moving. This effectively makes him able to turn invisible. However, the ability only extends to the visible light spectrum, and requires considerable concentration. He also struggles to blend into backdrops with especially intricate patterns or with many colours and a great deal of motion. Equipment: Rintor has the clothes on his back, a flask of water in one satchel, some parchment and a quill in another, and some dried fruits, jerky, and nuts in another. He also has a pair of wickedly sharp daggers gifted to him by the king, but he wants nothing to do with them. Other: Rintor is quiet and reserved – some would say aloof and subtly arrogant. He never shows his teeth anymore when smiling. He seems to be highly intelligent, though he will rarely correct people's mistakes. He also appears to have little to no interest in women. Though he has tried hard to train it out of himself, he harbours a degree of suspicion towards elves and many near-human beings. Before Rintor went through the portal, the king gifted him his old daggers back and bade him take them through the portal. Rintor could not disobey with so many eyes on him, but he plans to drop them the moment that he steps through, and not just for his own sake. Given his past and his distinctive appearance, I'd assume that he would be known to many of the other characters, at least by name and reputation.</s> <\|message\|>Rhen Rhen mulled the Crimson Marauder's words. Was that Infernal he spoke? Which dialect? The changeling was hardly fluent, but she replied, "Gar cuyir a adiik, Draar ve'ganir o'r ner ara." She ducked her head. "I know I'm not good at your language, but I can learn. And I can offer you companionship in return. My kind understand how badly mortals need touch and connection." She stepped away from him, balancing her book on one hand and dictating the recent occurences. "Most worryingly, the grass has changed colour as the sun set. While similar things have been known in our world, the experts in our party appear quite worried. A lack of animal life in the area gives us ample reason to make for rocky ground." Shutting the book, she took hold of the horses' reins and began to urge them and the cart towards the hill. For all the Crimson Marauder's fearsome reputation, deserved or not, he was still a man. Yes, half his soul was a demon, but her kind had infernal blood in them, yet another reason why changelings lived in the blind spot of society. As Rhen walked, she took care to subtly accentuate her current form in her motions. If the Marauder was watching, his human mind should take notice. And if someone else did, then she might not have to sleep alone anyway.</s> <\|message\|>Numzom Deepfeet (Half-Elven Swordsman) @Esailia@ReusableSword The astronomer patted his shoulder and told him to shut up, or in a more polite way, stop talking. Numzom answered"Okay, i will stop talking, i just want to have a good first impression here, its all ruined, thank you for reminding me". Then he stepped to Esailia and said "Hey, umm, im sorry, about earlier, but you have to stop accusing Victor, i know that Victor has done a lot of bad things to you, but, my best friend, my partner, died to him too, his name was Richie, a human, a great swordsman, even General. Fuorth would send him to the New World if not for his death, i wouldnt be here, again, sorry for earlier". Numzom felt kinda guilty, he just made two people dislike him "Hey, its fine, ive been with you for 6 years now, i may be annoying at first, but, you like me now, dont you?" Numbo said suddenly. "Well, yeah kinda" replied Numzom, while walking with the party to the hills.</s>	<\|message\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir The demon attempts further mockery. Rintor has seen it before. Beings like that thrive on the perceptions of others: the fear that they generate and the notion that they're powerful. Were it not for the magical shackles that he'd willingly put on himself, Rintor would slice the man's neck open in an instant and proceed to kill the demon as well. It isn't about morality, but rather scale of harms. Sometimes , some innocents must die so that more innocents are saved. An odious thought, to be sure, but practical, and the right choice. Rintor can only answer the odd scientist's question with an admission of his own. "I can see colour," he begins, "but I fear I've taxed myself too far with all of this recent lightbending. I'm out of practice, and ironically, temporary colour blindness is one of the first consequences a lightbender suffers when he overextends himself." No need to mention the others yet, and pray I don't encounter them. I am dangerously rusty. "At this point, I'm following the others' lead and trusting in their judgement." He walks quietly, watching, listening, and letting the others sort themselves out. He will have order prevail here even if he has to personally pound it into each and every one of their skulls. There are too many self-important people, hotheads, and liars. He's guilty of being the first himself. The sun is low. Colour starts returning to his world. The grass is strange. He's struck by its appearance. That doesn't mean that it's automatically a threat, but when dealing with an unknown, it's best to minimize your variables. It would be best to reach bare ground. He watches Esailia stalking ahead of the others. For a moment, he's selfishly glad that he comes from a faraway land. Were there more people from the deep south, perhaps he would be as infamous as Victor. Perhaps his past actions would come back to haunt him. Perhaps he would be threatened with death. And he would deserve it. Rintor Otorik divides his attention between his surroundings and the half-elf, who's approaching Esailia and trying to offer some sort of apology. Clueless child, he thinks. All strength and no brains. Surreptitiously, his hands brush the hilts of his daggers and he checks for the threads. It's so much easier - less taxing - for him to lightbend at night. He hopes that he won't have to, but he is ready nonetheless. There is little grass where they are now. The ground rises and falls. The mountains loom overhead, and a thin halo of sunlight crowns the summit of one of the lesser ones.</s>
<\|description\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir Age: 33 Race: Human (Sub-Saharan African in appearance) Appearance: Rintor is a smallish, very dark-skinned man in his early thirties, wiry but muscular. He has dark grey-brown eyes and is vaguely handsome. However, he suffers from Alopecia Universalis, which renders him completely hairless across his entire body. He usually dresses in a simple black robe, with black leather boots, loose black pants, a handful of fur pelts, and a thick brown leather belt with a trio of leather satchels around his waist. In his youth, he would often wear a mask that covered most of his face. However, he doesn't wear it anymore. Role: Linguist, assassin, scout Bio: Rintor comes from Boshir, a powerful fiefdom in the south, where he was the third son in a family from his country's equivalent of the landed gentry. His father and grandfather had both served with distinction in the king's army as armed scouts in previous conflicts, rising to become commanders. Rintor seemed destined for the same path, and indeed demonstrated considerable aptitude as a child. However, he manifested somewhat unexpected magical abilities upon puberty and was sent for schooling in the arcane arts. He showed little promise with higher magicks, but excelled at what was called 'lightbending', which, in short, allows him to bend the visible light spectrum so as to appear all-but invisible. Before long it appeared that he had reached a dead-end. While lightbending was a useful skill, people who trained at the academy of thaumaturgy were strictly forbidden from using the abilities learned there for violent ends. When war erupted with a neighboring Elven kingdom, Rintor, then only seventeen, remained at the academy. He had flourished during his years there and grown into a thoughtful young man. However, after a year, the military situation turned for the worse, and he was personally pulled out of the academy upon orders of the king and placed into the army as a commissioned officer. Whatever his moral qualms, Rintor served as his father and grandfather had before him. If his swordsmanship was subpar for his station, he had little use for it during scouting missions. However, one can only last for so long in a war without resorting to violence. Forced to kill an enemy scout who would have revealed his army's position, Rintor had shed his first blood. Surrounded by martial culture, his guilt was quickly assuaged. From that point onward, he became the leader of an advance party that quickly became infamous for its lightning strikes, guerilla warfare, and sabotage. His lightbending skills made him almost absurdly effective, and before long Rintor was doing more than scouting. Assassinations came next, followed by long missions deep into enemy territory. His initial moral objections having become a thing of the past, and fed a steady diet of awards, honours, propaganda, and berserker mushrooms, Rintor became a gleeful killing machine. Gifted a pair of finely honed daggers by the king himself, the lightbender's trail of bodies grew until he was feared, revered, and loathed across much of the continent. It became something of a legend that he would always appear out of nowhere a bare moment before striking the fatal blow, smiling like the devil himself. His high (or low) point, came when he infiltrated the bedchambers of the Elven king and murdered him and his entire family in cold blood. This plunged the country into civil war and forced their interim leadership to sue for peace terms. Back home, Rintor was hailed as a hero, but with the war over and the accolades, drugs, and honours drying up, he felt increasingly hollow. He longed for purpose, which he attempted to find in hunting, bloodsport, and horse racing. All were dead ends. The academy had long since severed all ties with him and he was not allowed to return there. At some point, he disappeared from society altogether. Nobody is entirely certain where he went for seven years, but when he reappeared, he was able to speak six new languages and he seemed to have found his peace. He sat outside of the academy in meditation, drinking only one bottle of water each day, for twenty-six days and nights until he was finally granted an audience with the provost. The price that he paid for readmission to the academy was considerable: all of his lands, honours, titles, and possessions save what he had carried with him, as well as a solemn vow of non-violence to be broken upon pain of a degenerative curse that will slowly and painfully cause him to waste away. For the next three years, he ensconced himself within its hallowed halls, re-emerging at around the same time that the opening of the portal was announced. He appeared before the king, dressed in his simple black robes, and requested that he be the first of his nation to step through the portal. Given his status as a war hero, it was a request that could hardly be refused. Nobody knows what his motivation is except for Rintor himself, though one would assume that it has to do with the fascination of exploring a new land and finding redemption in the process. Skills: Rintor can move with the utmost stealth and silence. Even elven ears struggle to detect him. He is almost ridiculously proficient with knives and daggers, though he has sworn never to use them for violence against another sentient being so long as he lives. He is able to draw maps and describe topography in considerable detail, though perhaps not as well as he might've in his youth. He is adept at sabotage, guerilla warfare, and has some tactical abilities, though these are qualities that he tries not to advertise. Rintor is a skilled horseman and reasonably proficient with a bow, though not what one would call 'naturally talented'. He can fast for an extended period of time and possesses basic survival skills. He has an innate ear for languages and has studied linguistics over the prvious handful of years, though he tends to speak with a thick accent. Magic: Rintor is able to bend light so that he blends in flawlessly with his surroundings for extended periods of time when still and short bursts while moving. This effectively makes him able to turn invisible. However, the ability only extends to the visible light spectrum, and requires considerable concentration. He also struggles to blend into backdrops with especially intricate patterns or with many colours and a great deal of motion. Equipment: Rintor has the clothes on his back, a flask of water in one satchel, some parchment and a quill in another, and some dried fruits, jerky, and nuts in another. He also has a pair of wickedly sharp daggers gifted to him by the king, but he wants nothing to do with them. Other: Rintor is quiet and reserved – some would say aloof and subtly arrogant. He never shows his teeth anymore when smiling. He seems to be highly intelligent, though he will rarely correct people's mistakes. He also appears to have little to no interest in women. Though he has tried hard to train it out of himself, he harbours a degree of suspicion towards elves and many near-human beings. Before Rintor went through the portal, the king gifted him his old daggers back and bade him take them through the portal. Rintor could not disobey with so many eyes on him, but he plans to drop them the moment that he steps through, and not just for his own sake. Given his past and his distinctive appearance, I'd assume that he would be known to many of the other characters, at least by name and reputation.</s> <\|message\|>Tori, nickname: T @Esailia Tori nodded at Esailia and then waved Numzom, " Just some ham i cooked it before we left, also It's nice to meet you I'm Tori" she said, a slight smile on her face. She handed her offering of food to Numzom. Tori was happy to share.</s> <\|message\|>Victor Warnock AKA Vicky, Vic, or V He would not lead them instead followed, taking the quiet change in pace to slowly bend one of the chain links back and forth. It did not take him long until he heard a metallic snap as the weak link he was working snapped in half, "finally" Argor whispered. He was still wearing the iron cuffs but no longer worried about having to have his arms chained together. The changeling was still following him, occasionally in front or behind or at his side. Slowly learning how to mimic his movements was odd for him at first but slowly turned to annoyance, yet somehow he seemed a bit proud that she was mimicking him or at the very least happy to have an admirer. "So you gonna let me out then?" Victor's voice sounded tired or annoyed Argor couldn't tell, "No its getting dark and unlike you I can see in the dark remember. Besides our deal stands, you sleep while I'm up through the night so I can sleep through the day." A silent huff was all he got before Victors voice trailed off, "don't kill anyone please." the demon laughed, "Why would I? I'm free now, free to make my own choices and demands." He sighed as they finally reached the grass less hill the girl who had a problem with him was still glaring at him but seemed to have regained her composure. She was setting up a lighted perimeter that messed with his eyes ever so slightly, just enough to be bothersome. At first, he seemed to not know what to do simply standing around and watching the going on of the others. However, after the carriage had stopped he found himself wondering, "did they pack it I wounder?" his curiosity growing he set to work sifting through the belongings in the cart, being careful to avoid the horse as it eyed him warily. Horses never liked him even trained ones would try to get away. Soon with his sifting and rummaging through personal belongings he began to find carpenter supplies, he was getting close. "Where are you dear friend? It has been some time since we last met." the demon spoke into the pile until he finally stopped pulling out a three-foot wooden crate, "I found you old friend!" a wicked smile crossed his face as he greedily pulled the crate apart. Slowly and gently he retrieved an ax from the broken crate. The bearded lumber ax was about three feet long and glimmered even with the low light. The wooden curved handle was splattered in red that faded to a dark red towards the head of the ax. With careful inspection one would still find small hairs around the ax head. Securing the ax to his hip he slid out of the cart and out to the edge of the camp. He stayed out of the light on the opposite side of the camp from the flute playing girl. Argor had many things to figure out, first off was what he truly wanted he was free now after all. He could sense the changeling nearby, she was at least within ear shot of him. "I'm sure you have plenty of questions girl. For now the boy slumbers so this conversation will be private" sitting with his legs crossed in front of him. He sat near the edge of the grass one blade of grass seemed separated from the rest. With curious intent the man takes out his ax and carefully cuts his pinky finger ever so carefully to allow a single drop of blood to fall on the blade of grass. Still, the man stared off into the darkness watching the black and white landscape roll on out to the horizon. "At least its peaceful here... for now." @Regitnui</s> <\|message\|>Rhen Wearing one shape for so long was starting to feel confining, but Rhen doubted any of her companions would be willing to let her strip down and stretch. Whenever she had to hold a form for more than a few hours, she started wondering how the other races did so. Her shoulders ached, her chin felt too narrow and she could swear her vision was going blue from holding one colour for too long. Perhaps most annoying was that little pit of fear in the bottom of her stomach that came from staying around any group too long. That fear they'd know she was a changeling and chase her away. But that was ridiculous, irrational, since she'd openly presented herself as a changeling. Still... She looked over at the man at the edge of the camp. Demon, human, famous persona, she still wanted to know him. She stopped a pace away from him and forced herself to think of an appropriately formal greeting, but in the end only managed, "Ibic solus tionir ara'novor?" She wasn't used to speaking like a child. Her infernal needed serious work. "Great and powerful Argor," she added.</s> <\|message\|>Shel "Surefoot" Applewood Shel sees what Victor/Argor is up to and is reminded of their situation. No life in the skies, no life in the grass, no life under the rocks, and the grass undergoing some sort of change. A bit of blood, fresh blood, is a good idea but Shel has something better. Though she has played beautifully Shel trots away from the Mithra, eager to help test the grass. He stops at his bag and retrieves a piece of waxy paper with a bit of leftover meat and as he approaches the changeling and the demon/murderer/stowaway he squeezes the package repeatedly to get the fluids moving. "That's a good idea," he says to Victor/Argor, "Might need more than blood though." He unfolds the wax paper and pulls the now mashed and sopping meat, stretching it out to make it seem larger. "Here goes nothing," he says throwing it out a ways into the curious grass.</s>	<\|message\|>Rintor Otorik, aka. The Smiler, The Blade of Boshir Things have gone quiet, eerily so. No crickets, no bullfrogs, no owls - nothing. You don't realize what a role they play in making the night until they're missing from it. Rintor sits on a small, rocky promontory. Above is a blanket of stars in constellations that he does not know. In the near distance is a flickering bonfire with a group of people gathered around it. The sounds of soft music and of their conversation drift up towards him, but he is not much concerned with that. There are good people here, and others who care only for themselves, who will poison this bold experiment more surely than hemlock. Of that he is certain. Of the fact that he will not leave this world, he is equally certain. Rintor begins walking. The threads are harder to find by night, but it is so much easier to massage them into the shapes that he needs. The travelers and all of their tumult fade away with the passing of each step. Rintor Otorik grabs a hold of the light and disappears.</s>
<\|description\|>Victor Warnock AKA Vicky, Vic, or V Age: 26 Race: Cursed Human Appearance: Victor stands at 6'0'' and weighs just over 230Lbs. with an average muscular build. He has orange hair and yellow eyes, ceremonial tattoos are scrawled across his body giving off a slight orange glow at all times, like the light from a single candle. He wears a long headscarf and baggy clothing to hide the glow and his rather infamous face. Role: Carpenter and lumberjack. Bio: Victor had a rather normal and simple life growing up. Being raised in a small village far from the hustle and bustle of the city, this village was surrounded by thick forests and the occasional old ruin. His father was a carpenter and his mother a cook, they raised him to know how to read and write. The father teaching the boy how to find and cut trees into lumber and usable pieces, his mother always making sure he was fed and knew how to cook for himself. It wasn't long before he took a liking to one of the local girls, Sara Frostfire a Kitsune whose family were the local healers. For a time he was happy, a young strong boy with a very lovely kitsune he was on the verge of marrying who wouldn't be happy. Alas, things were not to last, one special night he took his soon to be bride deep into the forest to a special place. A small hot spring, light from the full moon shown down into the light blue pool. This was to be their first time alone, to just be enveloped in each other's company yet someone had other plans. They were followed by others wearing red hoods and black masks, in an instant they were surrounded and subdued before being knocked unconscious, The last thing he remembers is Sara's screams. He woke confused and frightened in a large old room, his hands were bound and he had a gag in his mouth. Candles and moon light filled the room with enough light to show strange and old runes spread across the ceiling, walls and floor. The runes that were engraved around him were filled with a red viscus liquid, this place was old, felt old, smelled old with only the sound of a slight dripping somewhere around him and his own breathing. He didn't see them at first, the hooded figures that stood so quiet and still around the circular room not until one stepped out wearing an entirely black robe and red featureless mask. This Man spoke first then the others followed, they spoke a language he did not understand and somehow it hurt him to hear it. Victor writhed in pain his only thought was to desperately search for his love. The chanting didn't stop and some hooded figures soon began focusing their magic towards the center, not on him but towards the runes on the floor around him and then slowly they all began to do so. The pain… the pain… pain… pain… his thoughts were drowned out he could hear screaming he tried to see who was screaming but noticed he couldn't see anything, only darkness. He woke in that chamber, he could see but he was taller and his field of view had changed he could see more now than before yet he was kneeling. When he tried to stand nothing happened, he couldn't move or talk and what movements he did make were involuntary as if he was only watching and listening as something else controlled him. The mage that began the chant stood before him and spoke, "Argor, The Blood Demon, your payment has been fulfilled with the blood of a virgin and the soul of another. I am your new master you will obey your master, you will obey me. Now go Argor and spread my terror and will across the country side." For the next four years to come Victor had to bear witness to the crimes he was being hunted for, terrible things that left him broken. He was able to find Sara again her body had been ravaged and bled dry, he figured that her blood was the red liquid at the ritual and all he did was buried her and take the ring he gave her. It took them 4 years, 4 long and bloody years to capture him and take him to court. The local lord a man driven by justice and superstition was his judge, then something unexpected happened someone got it into the lord's head that if he were to kill victor it could release the demon bound to him into this world. Yet to please the public and their unrest he told them he was going to destroy this man and the beast within. Victor didn't care no punishment was harsh enough, no jest, insult, or question broke his concentration on the two plain gold rings he held in his hands. And yet he was subdued and put to sleep by a mage's spell. Now it seems the lord simply wanted to get rid of the man and banish him to the new world by locking him in a crate and placing it in with the food supply that was to go with the expedition team, thus brushing his problem under the rug. Skills: Other than what is expected of his profession building and lumber gathering, Victor is rather skilled in cooking and foraging, as well as basic farming and medicine with a bit of singing and playing musical instruments put in. With living in the forest for so long his survival skills are quite good and if necessary he can defend himself from wild animals but does not like violence. Magic: Aside from his curse Victor has no magical aptitude to the point that even enchanted or magic items are simply mundane in his hands, this may be a byproduct of the demon taking whatever magic he has. The Curse: By means of old magic, Victor is soul bound to a demon named Argor. Lately he has been able to control his transitions and although he has no control over the demon yet it seems to know friend from foe. This binding has given Victor slightly improved stamina and strength compared to normal humans. The Demon: Argor is a Sadistic cruel creature that has an aptitude for Combat, violence, And bloodshed. Two things change when he takes control of Victor, the first is his eyes turn completely black by unknown means and the second and more noticeable is the color of his tattoos change from yellowish orange to a dark red. This change can be sudden and happens randomly or when Victor is emotionally compromised. However, Being that he is in a separate realm from the mage that summoned him, Argor now has free will of his actions. Equipment: Other than his carpentry equipment, shovel, pick, ax, saw, hand drill, hammer, nails, knife, Etc… he has nothing other than two golden rings he wears with a simple metal chain around his neck and his unusual baggy clothes. Argor prefers to use the lumber axe when in combat. Other: If you get him to talk about his past which he is still reconciling, consider yourself lucky he doesn't like talking about his past. Also the demon isn't a silent bystander and does talk to Victor, where Victor might just seem like hes having an argument or talking to himself to others. Also Victor is known to some as the "Crimson Marauder" for his murder spree and the destruction he has caused.</s> <\|message\|>Zeke @Esailia Zeke smiled in response to Rhen, though it was only a courtesy. Affected since birth by monochromatism, Zeke was completely unable to distinguish any color. He only knew of color from the words of others, though was never able to grasp the concept. As such, he often forgot entirely of its existence, as was the case here. To him, it seemed as though the shadows on the changeling's face and hair shifted to the other side, with the occasional dark band in between. He tried to hide his confusion, but honestly Zeke had no idea what he was looking at. Instead, he focused on Rhen's words. They were indeed correct about him not being interested in girls, though he didn't really care to mention that. Unfortunately, he had already revealed it by failing to recognize the flirtatious nature of the changeling's smile. "Well-" he realized, too late. "Erm." He decided against saying something else, and instead maintained a prolonged silence. Good job. You were not only unsuccessful in conversing with the changeling, but you've also made yourself into an awkward fool. Congratulations. Zeke touched the tip of his nose with the knuckle of his index finger. Well, maybe so, but this is normal behavior in this regard. If anything, it makes me look more relatable. Perhaps. He continued working at the wood, vaguely paying attention to what the others were saying. "Maybe there are no animals because a large group of strange people just appeared from a foreign magical device," he muttered. Magic was viable here, since the portal could bridge and Rhen had obviously just used it, but that didn't mean that magic was actually an aspect of this world. What if they had introduced it by coming here? From what Zeke knew, magic could be self-contained, so this was entirely possible. And were there humanoids here to begin with? Then he had another idea, one so profound and probable that it actually made him stop walking. The only form of life they had seen were plants. What if this was a relatively new ecosystem? These grasses would be the pioneer species, unable to support more than one or two tropic levels in a food web. He knelt to feel the ground. The soil was rough, which could indicate rocks had been recently broken down. The grass was the same way, a hardy species adapted for survival. It made perfect sense. Zeke scanned the horizon - there were a few flowers and trees, but not many; the next stage of succession was underway. It fit too well. His heart pounded loudly, he couldn't breathe. Was it the truth? Would he be able to study a fresh, uncontaminated ecosystem? But as he examined the mountains, Zeke released his breath in dismay. They were sedimentary, clearly eroded over time by wind or water or dust. They were not very tall. What reason would there be for old mountains to be near young plants? Unless it was the erosion of the mountains that helped create the soil? He thought furiously, though didn't have an immediate answer.</s> <\|message\|>Shel "Surefoot" Applewood Shel was enjoying simply being out in the open world again, if you let your mind drift you could pretty easily forget that you weren't just going for a day hike out to the mountains. There was a certain pleasure to be found just putting one foot in front of the other, feeling your pack shift with every step. Particularly since they were not just trailblazers here but THE trailblazers. This was virgin territory, all of it. The only thing that could make this better would be a nice breeze. Maybe a good stew. The Mithra asked if anyone had seen animals and Zeke replied quickly with a rather astute observation. "That's a good point," Shel said, tilting his head back to help his voice carry while still keeping an eye on the ground below to avoid tripping, "Can't see any sign of other folk out here. Nothing deliberate, nothing purpose built out here. But..." He paused, falling out of sync with the group while he peered about for a second then caught up. "We've covered a decent distance now and I for one haven't seen a sign of any life at all. That is peculiar." He caught up with the group and spoke to them in general but to Zeke in particular, "No deer, no wee little rabbits, or something of the sort, that might make sense. Like ya said, scared off by new sounds and smells and all that." He sniffed at his armpits and scrunched his nose up in mock disgust, "Makes sense it does. What doesn't make sense though?" He gestures all around them, "No birds in the distance, no hawks or crows. No bugs in the grass, or on our clothes or flitting about. No lizards soaking up the heat on these rocks." He pauses for a moment as an idea pops into his head. "Just a minute yeah?" Not waiting for a response he looks about for any large flat rocks in grassy areas. Finding one he kneels in close, looks back towards the group smiling, and slowly lifts the rock up looking under for any signs of life.</s> <\|message\|>Tori, nickname: T @Esailia Tori walks up to Shel, " where do you think they all went,i mean there should at least be bugs" she says. Tori moves her dark blue hair from her face. Tori takes out the bow she packed and an arrow, ' if i can find a bird anywhere even if it's little then i food can be made and we can set up camp' she thought to herself as she looked at the sky. Nothing, nothing at all no birds, bugs or anything. Tori walks around trying to find water maybe there are fish there. " anyone see a pond or something?" she asks out loud. She looks at Shel to see what he is doing. 'hmm' she thinks to herself.</s>	<\|message\|>Victor Warnock AKA Vicky, Vic, or V It was dark for a time as the man in the crate slept, the constant cheers of the crowd around this group of intrepid adventures and explorers were only screams melded with fire in the man's mind. What this man saw in his dreams was beautiful at first. Dancing in a meadow, only him and a girl, she was short with fox like brown and red ears and tail, long soft blond hair flowed over her shoulders, deep caring blue eyes pierced his very soul, and the smile she had could warm any man's cold heart. He reached for her grasping toward her beckoning Kind hand, yet his touch turned her to ash and the meadow was swept up with fire until it was all he could see. Suddenly he stood in the center of a burning village, a familiar village, his village. Blood dripped off him and his ax, bodies strewn around him, all with familiar faces and a look of either horror or bewilderment frozen on the corpses, how could this man, their friend, do this? Then swirling through the smoke another man stood his figure imposing over the village like a giant. This man wore a black robe and a cracked red mask that allowed a broken smile to be shown through as he looked at this murderer before him and knew in that instant there was no one left for that man to turn to, to run to, he was in control. The rocking of the cart woke him first and it took him a moment to take in his surroundings, the iron restraints were still on his arms, they allowed limited movement but were loud. The crate he was in was cramped and had items in it that read, at least what he could see, were seeds of some kind. Slowly he attempted to lift the lid, two hinges on one side and a small lock on the other, simple pine wood and iron rivets used in its construction. The sound of voices from outside the wagon made him freeze for a moment, casually he looked through some slits in the wood. Someone was driving the cart and the sky looked orange, "Dusk" he whispered to himself before giving himself a mental situation report and a plan. First off he needed to get out of this crate but doing so will shift the rest of the load that is resting on top of said crate, then what? "Remember that time we got caught in the forest?" a deep dark voice echoed through his mind, "why hello to you too Argor" he whispered quietly. "Child, that time in the forest, break the lock or the crate then jump and roll out the back in one move. Then run and don't look back." The voice was a bit condescending but he had a plan, whatever guards were out there probably thought he was going to be out for a lot longer and were not going to expect him to be awake. So he slowly wrapped his head in what manner he could to cover himself then waited and positioned himself to strike the lock and hinge that kept him in, after a few deep breaths to mentally prepare himself he began his escape. With a loud crack his fist splintered the wood and he pushed the crate open shifting the supply's in the cart, in two steps he was at the back of the cart and with another lunge and a roll he was ready to start sprinting off. But he hesitated he knelt there on the ground his hands feeling the earth beneath him and slowly he stood looking at the earth slipping through his hands. "I don't feel him" he whispered, "neither do i, the presence… its gone" Argor seemed confused. "We are free? WE ARE FREE!" he shouted as he looked to the sky and slowly looked around, "now, where the hell am I?"</s>
<\|description\|>Sterling Richard Dewitt In this world, there's two kinds of people: those with loaded guns, and those who dig. You dig. --- Gender: Male Age: Thirty seven. Occupation: Bounty Hunter Family: Thomas Archibald Dewitt - Father - Deceased (died of a heart attack approximately one year ago) - Sixty three at death Marion Claudia Dewitt (nee Wright) - Mother - Alive (living in Boston) - Fifty nine. Henry Theodore Dewitt - Brother - Alive (living in Boston, plans on moving out West) - Twenty eight. Accompanied By: Orson, his trusty steed. Orson is an American Paint Horse. Equipment: Remington New Model Army Revolver (in holster on belt), Moore & Co. coach gun (in knapsack on back), Bowie knife (in holster on right boot), canteen (half-empty, in sling around shoulder), and a rope (never know when you need rope! In knapsack). Skills: Sterling is a seasoned gunfighter, an excellent horse rider, is rather intimidating and has some basic knowledge of herbs (I.E. he can tell if something is poisonous or not, but nothing beyond that). Personality: A stoic, callous man who prefers to shoot first and ask questions later. He doesn't care much for social conventions, instead saying things as they are or just not saying anything at all. Despite coming from a Catholic family, he is an Atheist. He is also an asexual, as he believes that any romance would distract him from what's really important: turning bounty heads over to police and getting a fat stack of cash. Despite his rough and tough exterior, if one were to work very hard, they could get close to him and he could consider them a friend. That, or you can just buy him a bunch of drinks. An easy way to tell if he's close to someone is if he talks to them for more than necessary (I.E., adding social niceties to the conversation). Well, that or he's drunk. Backstory: Will add later.</s> <\|message\|>Jessamine Marie Courtwright - everyone calls her Jessie. The day started just as it usually did in the town of Wrathlake; the same shops opened, the same people shouted out their morning greetings as they trudged along the dusty path, and the same carriages rumbled down the tracks. The only thing different was a single fluttering sheet of paper positioned just outside of the general store. It wasn't in the usual place of the wanted posters, so it couldn't have been one of them - instead, it read: MISSING : twelve men and counting. Treasure hunters - last seen leaving Wrathlake nine days ago. Families worried. REWARD: $130 Now, Wrathlake is not a particularly literate place - so many locals could be seen squinting and mouthing the words printed in large black letters on the peice of paper alongside twelve drawings of the missing treasure hunters. Missing people were not uncommon, but twelve was unheard of. Could this have to do with the famous lost riches of Wrathlake? One things for sure: it was drawing quite a crowd.</s> <\|message\|>Samuel Ulysses Grein Samuel strode out of a saloon, and joined the gathering crowd. He pushed past people, struggling to get to the front. The strange cloak and rifle helped. Some people stared, but most ignored him. "One hundred thirty dollars? Seems worth it." Samuel of course, was in a bit of a predicament. He needed the money, but he didn't know how to bring people living. He was mostly a killer, but he could accustom to the idea. He could use his usual tracking skills, work his way among the crime land to find rumors, see if it was coincidence or if some bandits had taken them away. Of course, they would most likely be dead if bandits took them, but surely Samuel would get the money. He shrugged and walked back to his horse, his grey cloak covering the top half of his face, keeping his red hair hidden.</s>	<\|message\|>Sterling Richard Dewitt (This post WAS supposed to take place after his backstory, but you know how that turned out points at OOC. Also, you do know that 135 dollars then would be worth something like four thousand dollars now, right?) A hangover. Great. Sterling pushed himself off the ground, clutching his head and looking around for his canteen. He found it, quickly unscrewing his canteen and downing half of it in one swig. He'd have to fill it back up later, but at least he still had some in it. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. He was in his room in the hotel in town, which was scarcely decorated as it was a rare occurrence for him to be there to do more than sleep or bathe. With a sigh, Sterling threw on his holster and slung his canteen around his shoulder, assuring that his revolver was in a place that could be easily accessed, also noting to himself that he should refill the canteen. He didn't take his knapsack, as he most likely didn't need it or the items in it. He didn't need to tie up a bounty head and there definitely wouldn't be a gunfight at eight in the morning. Or at least he thinks it's eight in the morning... Anyhow, he walks outside. He saw a group of people crowding around something, and he squeezed his way into the crowd. He saw the poster, which he could make out but not easily (despite growing up in Boston and having some education, reading was never his style). It was something about missing men, and the reward was... Holy shit. That reward could keep Sterling fed for months, no, YEARS. Not to mention he could buy enough booze to put Cooter Brown to shame. Without a second thought, he looked around on the poster for any names so he could ask their family where the men were going when they left town, so he could follow in that general direction and pray to find them. Then again, if they had left town over a week ago, they'd probably be long gone... If they were still alive, that is.</s>
<\|description\|>Alejandra Jones Age: 27 Date Of Death: April 23, 2001 don't mind the ear piercings. Height: 5'7" Weight: 146 Method of Death: Bled to death after being shot several times by her fiance Bio: Alejandra was born the third child to a peasant family in El Salvador. Her childhood consisted of trying to survive under the violence of the government. When her father would suggest the family in immigrating to the United states, all would find it safer and practical in living there than being killed under a death squad. While she and her siblings would be introduced to public schooling, she would pick up on music. Alejandra became fond of the cello and would excel at playing it throughout the years. Once her family would become financially stable, they provided her extra lessons that would strengthen her skill. Her talent and motivation in playing had brought her scholarships to great colleges, a dream being closer at reach. During her high school years, Alejandra was well known for having multiple relationships which she would constantly switch from. One she would end up staying with during the late junior year and found that she had deeply loved him. There was a tense pause in their relationship in their late senior year. During this time, her lover was jealous of her luck with getting scholarships to a first rate colleges while he would be doomed in paying tuition. With being very possessive over her, the situation would result in him following her in order to make sure she kept faith. As time went on, Alejandra and her lover would graduate from college. But with his debts were Piled up, she would assist in paying them. This had deeply damaged their relationship as he would be dependent on her while he would struggle to find a job. As Alejandra would be involved with more people, her lover would ask her hand in marriage out of jealousy. While her status grew larger in difference to him, he became obsessed in trying to match up to her. Many times they would fight, she would seek refuge among others, though it would only prove to fuel the situation. It was until she would be consoled by one of her male coworkers in getting advice in reconciliation, where her fiance would ultimately try to shoot at the his "rival", however would miss and fatally wound Alejandra. Greatest Love: Her favorite instrument, the cello Greatest Fear: Not being able to finish what she started Stunning Weapon: OTs-38 Stechkin silent revolver "Silence accents music, its what makes it beautiful" Sealing Weapon: Machete</s> <\|message\|>Charlie Jones Charlie took Jervis' message with a modicum of distaste. When it came to being treated like a kid, he was fine with being coddled, but hated having his actions restricted due to his age. If it had been anyone other than Jervis telling him this, he might have been snarkier. A rebellious part of him wanted to just smash a window and take a car out for a dangerous and chaotic joyride. However, Charlie had no knowledge of cars, let alone how to hotwire one. But if he was at least being given the right to choose their vehicle, then by golly, he would take it. So Charlie wandered the streets, passing by cheap cars, expensive cars, big cars, small cars, slow cars, fast cars; he maybe took a little longer than the other seven probably would have liked, but he was on a mission. There's gotta be one around here, somewhere, Charlie thought to himself, and then he saw it: Some car hobbyists prized possession, an antique form that Charlie was much more comfortable with. He walked up to the car, admiring it, and looked around to see if he could locate the owner anywhere. He couldn't. Smiling, Charlie walked over to the side mirror, making sure no one was around for the moment, and looked at himself. "Randy." Flashing back into the Deadly Room, Charlie picked up the files that he hadn't been able to read yet, but instead of perusing them, looked eagerly at the large screen, hoping that Randy wouldn't subvert his choice and go for another vehicle.</s> <\|message\|>Jonathan II Jones The driving, the chase, this brought back memories. You see, Jonathan wasn't the perfect husband and there was a lot of "marital conflict" in the family, though it leaned more towards one sided abuse. So there was no surprise when his wife wanted to leave him. He always remembered her first attempt, the first and the last as he made sure to engrave a lesson on what happens when a property runs from its owner. The whole thing was gruesome. It began when his wife left the bed one night, not to return, and upon waking up by the powerful engine of his car he noticed her absence. Before he even had a chance to get up the car roared as it dashed forward, through the estate gate and into the road. "That bitch dared to leave him?"- were his rage fueled thoughts. "Properties should know their fucking place"- he continued in a murmur. Without wearing anything else beside his bed robe, he hopped into his other car and gave chase immediately. The girl was full of adrenaline, anxious, scared but at last she almost felt released by that man's horrid grasp. To feel truly free she would have to get out of his property, which was considerably large mind you. Now to understand what happens next you have to understand the road she was following. The manor was at the top of a hill which ended in a cliff at one side and a forest in the other. This road snaked from one side of the hill to the other, slithering through the forest until it reached the bottom. Now here's what Jonathan did… Looking back one more time the girl felt a little relief that she wasn't followed. That relief was short lived. The faint sound of an engine could be heard coming from the forest that lead to the mansion. The sound only continued to grow as lights could now be seen piercing through the forest flora. The bushes rustled for a moment then.. "It can't be.. He's not tha-" VROOM The car leaped from the high ground crashing straight to the other one. Both people were sent flying but luckily for Jonathan he was thrown out during the jump, the momentum carrying him over to the other side of the road and into the greenery which softened his fall. Not so luckily for his wife property which lay bleeding on the ground with a piece of metal protruding through the side of her abdomen. "Sir, are you alright?"- one of the guards while towering above Jonathan's semi unconscious form. "ha..hehe..AHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA cough cough more pained laughter"- Jonathan had broken into a frenzied laughter only stopped by the sharp pain at his side. Probably a few broken ribs, otherwise just minor injuries. The main thing was that the lesson was learned, learned and forever engraved in her mind and body. And learn she did, as she learned to kill him instead of running….Good memories. Getting back to the present he continued: "You got taste kid, now let's see if our Randy has any skill in driving."- he remarked after finally raising up his head from the files. He got a particular.. rush when reading Marina's file, Dolly coming second. He would definitely love tormenting those girls, how he would take his sweet time with them. Walking for the couch, he leaped from the back to land in a sitting position. Making himself comfortable with his bottle of whisky as a pacifier he observed Randy while in anticipation of the moment when he would break those girls.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail "Abbey" Jones Abigail had to cease her bar stool spinning antics as people continued to pop in and out of existence around her. She hadn't been with the Deadly Eight long, so the antics of everyone switching in and out of one body definitely got her head spinning. The whole experience was almost a bit surreal to her, or perhaps that was just the vibe Jervis was going for with the jazzy, lounge-esque Deadly Room. Abigail set the targets' files down at this point. She never was too adept at the art of preplanning. The way she rolled, the only thing she prepared was plans to blow things up. Her logic worked much better under the threat of gunfire. Or at least, that's what Abigail thought. Maybe she was just lazy. For a moment, Abigail intently watched Jervis as he spoke through the phone to Charlie. That phone definitely brought back halcyon memories of Abigail's first few months in the Deadly Room. Oh how fun it had been to toy with the assassins during their missions, and oh how sad she was when Jervis then disallowed her from further using the phone. That was definitely one detail that most of her comrades would have picked up about Abigail: She almost never took anything seriously around here. Life er-... Unlife was all a game to Abigail. "Well that's an interesting choice..." Speaking to no one in particular, Abigail's eyes traced the vintage vehicle that Charlie chose. She had some experience with cars, but none at all with this sort. It was also probably worth mentioning that most of Abigail's experience with vehicles revolved around either destroying them, using them to destroy other things, or getaway driving. Abigail definitely had a... unique skill set. "It looks like it couldn't even breach fifty miles an hour. Let's hope nothing goes wrong during the mission... Our escape might crumble to dust when we need it." The girl gave a short chuckle continuing to watch, though as Charlie switched places with Randy, Abigail's demeanor seemed to change near instantaneously. A smile crossed her face, her eyes came alight with a certain glow of excitement, and her posture perked up to make her look more presentable. "Ah Charlie! Welcome back! Perfect execution of an escape as usual, and not to mention the lovely choice of vehicle. My compliments to your contribution as always!" Her voice was soft, almost baby-ish. Abigail was always so allured by the young assassin's delicate and charming appearance. Of course, Abigail completely disregarded any sort of flaws she saw in Charlie. He was too perfect for those. She continued her shower of praise for a moment longer whether Charlie was listening or not. This had no doubt become a common occurrence, happening nearly every conversation Abigail had with Charlie ever since she was brought to the Deadly Room.</s> <\|message\|>Charlie Jones Since he met Abigail, Charlie had treated her in a hot-and-cold manner; sometimes putting up with her doting, other times rejecting it. Neither reaction seemed to change her behavior, so he decided that this time, he would just play along. "I did good, didn't I, Abby?" Charlie said, flashing her a self-satisfied smile and making himself approachable. Of course, he knew very well that he was bullshitting; all he had done was wander out onto the streets and look at a car, but he wanted to play himself up, knowing that by encouraging Abigail, and by being an insufferable little prick and exaggerating his own contributions, the two of them would probably annoy the Hell out of the others, and that was Charlie's favorite pastime. Flipping through the dossiers, he zeroed in on their current target that the others had chosen in his brief absence. The first thing he noticed was the age, and a look of disgust passed very quickly over his face. While he hated adults, he could stand teenagers and young adults even less. he saw them as hypocrites, wannabe adults who abandoned their honesty as children to become the liars that grownups were. Going through the rest, he noticed all of the them were more-or-less in their teens, with on being 21, but then the last one was his age; and there was no information on her. He smirked, and figured this case might be interesting after all.</s>	<\|message\|>Alejandra Jones "Very well," she replied to the decision. "Now to the Sparks… " There was a slight relief that came over her as the target was chosen, then after left confused on to why she felt that. Am I… anxious? Missions were truly a thrill to execute and targets weren't too much to handle. But, had the hunt finally got to her? What was so different from this case from the other cases? She massaged her temple and sighed, thinking too much doesn't help anyway. Lifting her head, Alejandra couldn't help but listen to the grumbling of her partner latina, Raissa. Training the ear did have its benefits as a skill, though she would hate being accused of being nosy or intrusive. She chuckled at the odd rambling, seeing how quite well their personalities contrasted but didn't seem to clash when in conversation. At least she served as a good distraction. Alejandra looked back to the large monitor in curiosity on to which vehicle they would drive. The choice was admirable, its appearance seeming to be polished to a shine with great care. "Es una pena," she sighed. She hoped the owner would be able to find it… in one piece. Sure, she could trust Randy with the wheel better than the others, but what more of this ghost's driving? She was set on getting the job done quickly. Though the many worries of the task at hand, she was still intrigued the old vehicle. Never once had she seen such an antique in her lifetime, she being the newest of the eight. The most she had seen of a vehicle were her homeland's artillery trucks that would constantly raid and kill the indigenous and peasants on a common basis. On foot, Alejandra had crossed the Mexican border with her family, never then owning a car until she and her siblings earned enough money to afford one. Due to her then inexperience, she'd hire others to drive for her in fear she'd hurt herself. "One of these days..." she murmured in dissatisfaction.</s>
<\|description\|>Randy Jones Age: 29 Date Of Death: 1992 Height: 5'4" Weight: 135 lb. Method of Death: Getting stabbed in the neck with his own fountain pen. Bio: Randy was always a romantic. Ever since he was a child, he loved reading classic romances from authors like Jane Austen, Shakespeare, and the Brontes. The kind of books that he would've totally been bullied for reading if anyone had found out he liked them. He was writing his own poetry at the age of 16, and he wrote his first novel at the age of 20. Bringing it to a publisher, Randy found that they loved whatever he wrote, and so, began his nine-year career of writing. However, Randy's romanticism was also his downfall. He had a bad habit of romancing married women, which he wasn't to blame for. It wasn't his fault that they were discontented with their marriage. This habit lead to a very fast-paced series of events in the last year of his life in which he had to learn how to fight, in order to defend himself from his former lovers' ex-husbands. He did fairly well, but the last ex managed to break into his house and stab him to death with his own pen. Most of his lovers went to his funeral, and there was a fairly massive turnout, including family and friends. Now he waits in the penthouse for a job, and chats it up with his companions. Greatest Love: The concept of 'Romance', in all forms. Greatest Fear: Those that would do terrible things in the name of 'love'. This is a perversion of all Randy sees as good, and it terrifies him. Stunning Weapon: Colt M45 that he had bought to fight the exes. Sealing Weapon: His fountain pen.</s> <\|message\|>Charlie Jones Charlie took Jervis' message with a modicum of distaste. When it came to being treated like a kid, he was fine with being coddled, but hated having his actions restricted due to his age. If it had been anyone other than Jervis telling him this, he might have been snarkier. A rebellious part of him wanted to just smash a window and take a car out for a dangerous and chaotic joyride. However, Charlie had no knowledge of cars, let alone how to hotwire one. But if he was at least being given the right to choose their vehicle, then by golly, he would take it. So Charlie wandered the streets, passing by cheap cars, expensive cars, big cars, small cars, slow cars, fast cars; he maybe took a little longer than the other seven probably would have liked, but he was on a mission. There's gotta be one around here, somewhere, Charlie thought to himself, and then he saw it: Some car hobbyists prized possession, an antique form that Charlie was much more comfortable with. He walked up to the car, admiring it, and looked around to see if he could locate the owner anywhere. He couldn't. Smiling, Charlie walked over to the side mirror, making sure no one was around for the moment, and looked at himself. "Randy." Flashing back into the Deadly Room, Charlie picked up the files that he hadn't been able to read yet, but instead of perusing them, looked eagerly at the large screen, hoping that Randy wouldn't subvert his choice and go for another vehicle.</s> <\|message\|>Jonathan II Jones The driving, the chase, this brought back memories. You see, Jonathan wasn't the perfect husband and there was a lot of "marital conflict" in the family, though it leaned more towards one sided abuse. So there was no surprise when his wife wanted to leave him. He always remembered her first attempt, the first and the last as he made sure to engrave a lesson on what happens when a property runs from its owner. The whole thing was gruesome. It began when his wife left the bed one night, not to return, and upon waking up by the powerful engine of his car he noticed her absence. Before he even had a chance to get up the car roared as it dashed forward, through the estate gate and into the road. "That bitch dared to leave him?"- were his rage fueled thoughts. "Properties should know their fucking place"- he continued in a murmur. Without wearing anything else beside his bed robe, he hopped into his other car and gave chase immediately. The girl was full of adrenaline, anxious, scared but at last she almost felt released by that man's horrid grasp. To feel truly free she would have to get out of his property, which was considerably large mind you. Now to understand what happens next you have to understand the road she was following. The manor was at the top of a hill which ended in a cliff at one side and a forest in the other. This road snaked from one side of the hill to the other, slithering through the forest until it reached the bottom. Now here's what Jonathan did… Looking back one more time the girl felt a little relief that she wasn't followed. That relief was short lived. The faint sound of an engine could be heard coming from the forest that lead to the mansion. The sound only continued to grow as lights could now be seen piercing through the forest flora. The bushes rustled for a moment then.. "It can't be.. He's not tha-" VROOM The car leaped from the high ground crashing straight to the other one. Both people were sent flying but luckily for Jonathan he was thrown out during the jump, the momentum carrying him over to the other side of the road and into the greenery which softened his fall. Not so luckily for his wife property which lay bleeding on the ground with a piece of metal protruding through the side of her abdomen. "Sir, are you alright?"- one of the guards while towering above Jonathan's semi unconscious form. "ha..hehe..AHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA cough cough more pained laughter"- Jonathan had broken into a frenzied laughter only stopped by the sharp pain at his side. Probably a few broken ribs, otherwise just minor injuries. The main thing was that the lesson was learned, learned and forever engraved in her mind and body. And learn she did, as she learned to kill him instead of running….Good memories. Getting back to the present he continued: "You got taste kid, now let's see if our Randy has any skill in driving."- he remarked after finally raising up his head from the files. He got a particular.. rush when reading Marina's file, Dolly coming second. He would definitely love tormenting those girls, how he would take his sweet time with them. Walking for the couch, he leaped from the back to land in a sitting position. Making himself comfortable with his bottle of whisky as a pacifier he observed Randy while in anticipation of the moment when he would break those girls.</s> <\|message\|>Abigail "Abbey" Jones Abigail had to cease her bar stool spinning antics as people continued to pop in and out of existence around her. She hadn't been with the Deadly Eight long, so the antics of everyone switching in and out of one body definitely got her head spinning. The whole experience was almost a bit surreal to her, or perhaps that was just the vibe Jervis was going for with the jazzy, lounge-esque Deadly Room. Abigail set the targets' files down at this point. She never was too adept at the art of preplanning. The way she rolled, the only thing she prepared was plans to blow things up. Her logic worked much better under the threat of gunfire. Or at least, that's what Abigail thought. Maybe she was just lazy. For a moment, Abigail intently watched Jervis as he spoke through the phone to Charlie. That phone definitely brought back halcyon memories of Abigail's first few months in the Deadly Room. Oh how fun it had been to toy with the assassins during their missions, and oh how sad she was when Jervis then disallowed her from further using the phone. That was definitely one detail that most of her comrades would have picked up about Abigail: She almost never took anything seriously around here. Life er-... Unlife was all a game to Abigail. "Well that's an interesting choice..." Speaking to no one in particular, Abigail's eyes traced the vintage vehicle that Charlie chose. She had some experience with cars, but none at all with this sort. It was also probably worth mentioning that most of Abigail's experience with vehicles revolved around either destroying them, using them to destroy other things, or getaway driving. Abigail definitely had a... unique skill set. "It looks like it couldn't even breach fifty miles an hour. Let's hope nothing goes wrong during the mission... Our escape might crumble to dust when we need it." The girl gave a short chuckle continuing to watch, though as Charlie switched places with Randy, Abigail's demeanor seemed to change near instantaneously. A smile crossed her face, her eyes came alight with a certain glow of excitement, and her posture perked up to make her look more presentable. "Ah Charlie! Welcome back! Perfect execution of an escape as usual, and not to mention the lovely choice of vehicle. My compliments to your contribution as always!" Her voice was soft, almost baby-ish. Abigail was always so allured by the young assassin's delicate and charming appearance. Of course, Abigail completely disregarded any sort of flaws she saw in Charlie. He was too perfect for those. She continued her shower of praise for a moment longer whether Charlie was listening or not. This had no doubt become a common occurrence, happening nearly every conversation Abigail had with Charlie ever since she was brought to the Deadly Room.</s> <\|message\|>Charlie Jones Since he met Abigail, Charlie had treated her in a hot-and-cold manner; sometimes putting up with her doting, other times rejecting it. Neither reaction seemed to change her behavior, so he decided that this time, he would just play along. "I did good, didn't I, Abby?" Charlie said, flashing her a self-satisfied smile and making himself approachable. Of course, he knew very well that he was bullshitting; all he had done was wander out onto the streets and look at a car, but he wanted to play himself up, knowing that by encouraging Abigail, and by being an insufferable little prick and exaggerating his own contributions, the two of them would probably annoy the Hell out of the others, and that was Charlie's favorite pastime. Flipping through the dossiers, he zeroed in on their current target that the others had chosen in his brief absence. The first thing he noticed was the age, and a look of disgust passed very quickly over his face. While he hated adults, he could stand teenagers and young adults even less. he saw them as hypocrites, wannabe adults who abandoned their honesty as children to become the liars that grownups were. Going through the rest, he noticed all of the them were more-or-less in their teens, with on being 21, but then the last one was his age; and there was no information on her. He smirked, and figured this case might be interesting after all.</s> <\|message\|>Alejandra Jones Alejandra Jones "Very well," she replied to the decision. "Now to the Sparks… " There was a slight relief that came over her as the target was chosen, then after left confused on to why she felt that. Am I… anxious? Missions were truly a thrill to execute and targets weren't too much to handle. But, had the hunt finally got to her? What was so different from this case from the other cases? She massaged her temple and sighed, thinking too much doesn't help anyway. Lifting her head, Alejandra couldn't help but listen to the grumbling of her partner latina, Raissa. Training the ear did have its benefits as a skill, though she would hate being accused of being nosy or intrusive. She chuckled at the odd rambling, seeing how quite well their personalities contrasted but didn't seem to clash when in conversation. At least she served as a good distraction. Alejandra looked back to the large monitor in curiosity on to which vehicle they would drive. The choice was admirable, its appearance seeming to be polished to a shine with great care. "Es una pena," she sighed. She hoped the owner would be able to find it… in one piece. Sure, she could trust Randy with the wheel better than the others, but what more of this ghost's driving? She was set on getting the job done quickly. Though the many worries of the task at hand, she was still intrigued the old vehicle. Never once had she seen such an antique in her lifetime, she being the newest of the eight. The most she had seen of a vehicle were her homeland's artillery trucks that would constantly raid and kill the indigenous and peasants on a common basis. On foot, Alejandra had crossed the Mexican border with her family, never then owning a car until she and her siblings earned enough money to afford one. Due to her then inexperience, she'd hire others to drive for her in fear she'd hurt herself. "One of these days..." she murmured in dissatisfaction.</s>	<\|message\|>Randy Jones When Randy appeared in the street-side parking lot, in front of the vintage car, he took one glance and sighed in appreciation. "1939 Pierce-Arrow. Good choice. Was commissioned to men of wealth and taste. Quite roomy as well, for cars of its' time. I almost wish you hadn't picked it, Charlie. I'm not a burglar, ya know, so I'mma have to go the direct route to open the car." Still a bit down about what he had to do, Randy looked around for a suitable tool, and finding a chunk of concrete the size of his fist, hefted it. "I'm sorry, you beautiful, beautiful vehicle. I didn't want to do this." Smashing the chunk of concrete into the window, Randy looked away, covering his face with his other hand as glass shards flew towards him. Dropping the chunk of concrete, Randy reached through the now-broken pane of glass, and unlocked the door from the inside. Opening the door, Randy cringed as the glass crunched underfoot. Sitting in the front seat, Randy removed the panel under the steering column, and working quickly, before anyone nearby could investigate the sound of shattering glass, Randy hotwired the classic car, driving off in a peal of rubber, surprised at the get-up-and-go the classic car had. Owner must've replaced the engine. Wind blowing through his hair, Randy drove off towards his objective.</s>
<\|description\|>Enoch Kenz Gender: Male Height: 9ft Rank: Imortale Prelitor Auxilia Optima Primary Weapon: Olympia Shatterpoint Cannon Secondary Weapon: MNR Regalia SMG Melee Weapon: Ion Bladed Trench Knife Lethal Grenades: 2 Plasma Grenades Tactical Grenades: 2 EMP Grenades Extra Equipment: Deployable Blast Shield This device is stored as a 4.5ft rectangular metal rod, within which is a 'spool' of adamantine-alloy composite that allows for an incredibly durable but flexible shield. Deployment consists of dropping the device on the ground and kicking a starter pedal. This extends the sheet of adamantine upward to approximately 7.7ft. In the centre is a hole large enough for Enoch to deploy his cannon, providing a limited but pinpoint accurate field of fire as well as excellent defense against enemy ranged attack. Psychic Powers: Machine Manipulation Telepathy Telekinesis Stats: Strength: 6 Endurance: 6 Agility: 3 Psy Power: 3 Charisma: 5 Perception: 6 Intelligence: 6 Skills: Melee: 80 (30+30+15+5) Ranged: 80 (30+50) Heavy: 80 (30+30+20) Leadership: 60 (25+30+5) Acrobatics: 20 (15+5) Survival: 65 (30+30+5) Technology: 65 (30+30+5) Arcane Knowledge: 50 (15+30+5) Stealth: 15 (15) Enoch, though a powerful Imortale Prelitor, understands that he is just as expendable as everyone else, and accepts the knowlege that sooner or later he will die in the field of battle and his mantle undertaken by another warrior just as good as he. He doesn't speak much, save for affirming orders and the occasional shred of tactical advice, which is always delivered in a blunt, matter-of-fact manner which does little to portray his emotions. Enoch shuns all sense of pride and moral; he preffers to get the job done right, over getting the job done in a blaze of glory</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Shadows of a Broken Empire: Rise of the Immortals For years you have trained in the arts of the Imortale Prelitor. The ways of war and power, unlocking secrets of life and death. You were raised on the world of Valakryia, in the Temple of Sacred Flame, by the mystics and Librarians who represent the elders of your order. Now you stand in the Hall of Fate, before the Immortal Throne of the Emperor Lucan the First. As you await the arrival of your Lord you see the other Imortale Prelitor around you. These men and women will be as your brothers and sisters in the coming tribulations... Your future may rest in their hands. Zepheus stands near the doors to the Throne room, his arms crossed. His signature Warpack absent as no weapon is permitted in these hallowed halls. He seems to be observing each of the younger Imortale Prelitor... As if measuring them. [Turn Begin]</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch slowly marches toward Zepheus and gradually lowers himself to one knee, bowing his head in reverence. "'Tis an honour to be serving within your presence." His surprisingly 'average' sounding voice - compared to the low and booming tone one would expect from a bulky Auxilia like himself - remains flat and devoid of the kind of elation one should feel when saying such words.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia "Rise, Optima. You are said to have been best in your class. Heavy support if I remember correctly?" his voice was deep and he spoke barely above a whisper.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna had never been graced to be allowed into these venerated halls before, taking in her new environment as each wall and crevice molded in the darkness of her mind. She had been watching others sent when they were given the call, even those she felt less capable than herself. 'You are not ready', they would say, and she would return to training for another year. But today was special and different from the others. It was she was sent to the inner sanctums this time, to commune with the Immortal Emperor. Maybe now they saw something worthy of her. She felt very proud indeed. When she finally reached her destination, Vienna kept her head low as she tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone, on the off-chance she would offend a superior rank or someone of nobility. Such strict laws and traditions, but she understood them. Just as they branded her with special rules, it is for the betterment of their people. Although not that such a thing would be possible in the first place. Her engraved silvered-mask covered most of her face and her eyes. It was more she was trying to keep a low profile, issuing greetings only when necessary. "Ah... my sincerest greetings too, elder brother." she breathed to one of the men in the grand amber-lit halls leading to the Throne Room that reached out to her. Each word was soft, like a murmur, as though it was hard for her to speak. He didn't look like someone from her own unit, so she wasn't really interested in what he had to say. It was a dry sort of truth, but if she was going to strain herself to socialize, she only wanted to do so when absolutely needed. They would probably never see each other again anyways. Biding time for a chance to depart with a few modest nods to his exchanges across the ruthless ticking minutes, she found an opportunity when an acquaintance of his appeared. By the two clasped in a handshake she was already gone. Truthfully, she was just never good with words, let alone eloquently disarming a social dilemma if it occurred. There was no doubt she might say something callous without even realizing it and offend someone, or say nothing and offend someone. Judging how she didn't know how go about such things, the windows for failure were quite vast. Best she avoided it all. She had few rights as it was and she preferred to not spoil them, especially now. She soon found a place alone by one of the intricately carved pillars, leaning back against it with a sigh. Her resting spot was a safe distance away from the others, as she was afraid her very presence might send an uncomfortable chill down their spines. As her powers were quite untamed around other sources, even with the inhibitors placed. And her emotions were flaring. She felt overwhelmed by the new environment, happiness, fear, anxiety, excitement; all of it smothered her. Vienna only hoped she can make a good impression now that it mattered. ...</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose walks towards Zepheus, and bows to him, her jet black hair cut short , and her scabbard, empty, aswell as her back holster for her battle rifle, the side holster for her shield also empty, as, despite its defensive nature, the shield is still classified as a weapon 'It will be a pleasure to work beneath you, Sir.' her voice is softer than expected, barely louder than a whisper, and it is obvious she primarily uses her telepathy for communication, not her voice. She bows again, and returns to the rest of her squad, nodding at Enoch in passing. She notices Vienna, and walks over to her. 'Hello there. You seem uneasy, is there anything I can do to help?'</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch returns the brisk nod toward the passing Rose; the electrical servos nestled within his armour plate grind and squeal as he elevates himself back to a standing position. His imposing 9ft frame is yet more dramatic with the application of the incredibly thick and heavy Power Armour he has adopted for this meeting. The sheer bulk of it rises him to at least another foot off the ground, and nearly twice as wide as any other Prelitor in the room. "Auxilia Optima: you remember correctly." Enoch makes no effort to even glance at anyone else. They are not deserving of neither his words nor his look, until the Prelitor can deem them worthy of his respect.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus keeps his eye on the solemn woman with the covering over her eyes. A Savantus of great power and greater potential... But would she have what it takes to be a part of this team? That had yet to be seen. In all his long years of service, eight centuries of life, he had seen countless warriors and sages like the ones around him. They had been young, strong, and full of youth just as these men and women are. And they were all dead. Broken by conflicts past, the mighty armies of religious zealots, the nawing hunger of the Great Swarm, the mindless violence of the Walking War. He was one of the oldest Imortale Prelitor left alive, many the elders had been slain, so to many of the younger warriors, barely baptized in their first war. He would now lead a new generation of warriors, sages, maniacs, and kind souls to war, and all of its horrors. He turned to the Furia that had introduced herself, and was now speaking to the Savantus. He had seen recordings of her training, and was impressed. She would make a fine warrior if she survived long enough. He looked now at the Auxillia Optima before him. A heavy weapons expert and defensive/offensive fighter that could suit many a situation. He stood, waiting for the others to reveal themselves.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Without anyone else who appears to require him, Enoch chooses to stand parallel to Zepheus, on his right flank, and glares behind harsh yellow lenses at the other Prelitors who litter the room. Various mumblings sound from within his helmet; the tips of the fingers across his left hand tap rhythmically against his chestplate, dancing beneath his folded arms.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera approaches and bows in front of Zepheus, the leader of this operation. Then he walks away to a silent corner and sits down, and used his shield which is now strapped on his back as support as he reclines on the wall behind him. A few take notice and make a few snarky comments, but Senera's reclining comfortably, while they're still standing. Too much noise. He thinks to himself. He would love to get some shut eye but, he has no idea what's going to happen next so he just stays there, daydreaming about some situations that he read in his novels.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Lillian looks at Zepheus, as if measuring him herself, for a short moment - about the time it takes to blink two times, then she bows forward with a straight back, lowering her gaze to the floor. Some seconds later, she looks up without a single word and into face behind the helmet, awaiting his words.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus looks back at the Savantus, the glare of his eyeless helm lending to an aura of unnatural uneasiness. "Savantus, state your name." he commanded in a cool, but firm tone</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna winced upon hearing the words, shoulders pushing up tensely. Her head darted back and forth as her mind scrambled to refocus, the shape of the figure registering in the darkness. She really was too absorbed within her own worries she didn't even notice this new arrival. She turned to face the approaching woman with a half-smile, embarrassed by her own skittishness. "Ah... my, don't worry about me... I am just thinking..." she paused. 'Wait. What kind of answer was that, Vienna? Hurry, you still have time to explain yourself! Choose words. She's going to think you've a mental disorder, or worse...!' But try as she might, all that came of her mouth were befuddled 'umms' and 'ahhs'. Her grin quickly faltered as she started panicking at the inability to find any real words. It was like the thoughts in her mind were just flushed down a drain, leaving her with complete blanks. Seconds felt like minutes as she struggled internally, mouth pinched as she squirmed in her boots. Vienna wanted to just back away into a dark corner and just die of embarrassment. But she couldn't just let the kind gesture go to waste, especially when they first initiated the interaction. This was the first time someone approached her on their own. Usually it was the opposite. No one wanted to even step anywhere near the ticking psionic bomb. She probably didn't even know about her dangerous reputation, so that's why. But still, to her, it was the thought was what mattered the most. Despite being strangers, they went out of her way to offer help to her, without even being asked. It might seem trivial to anyone who was even marginally socially adequate, but to Vienna, this woman appeared truly noble. Wait. A stranger! That's right, before every conversation was an exchange of names. She immediately bowed her head, hoping she could hide the darkness settling in her cheeks, "A-ah... where are my manners? I-I am Vienna Marx Sorielus... it is a pleasure to have you acquaintance, dear sister-in-arms..." Vienna remained this way, both awaiting a response while trying her best to keep her heart still. Blood was rushing into her face, the added heat making it feel like she was being cooked alive. She could faint from this unbearable stress at any moment. Her hands were shaking, she could feel them. What would her instructors think if they saw her now? She didn't want to disappoint them after all they did for her, not after the promise she made to herself and all the others. She had finally been given a chance to prove herself. She cursed herself. How would she even handle such an important duty as being an Imortale Prelitor if she couldn't handle something as simple as this? She didn't dare allow her mind to imagine the response this person would have to her odd mannerisms. ...</s>	<\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s>
<\|description\|>Enoch Kenz Gender: Male Height: 9ft Rank: Imortale Prelitor Auxilia Optima Primary Weapon: Olympia Shatterpoint Cannon Secondary Weapon: MNR Regalia SMG Melee Weapon: Ion Bladed Trench Knife Lethal Grenades: 2 Plasma Grenades Tactical Grenades: 2 EMP Grenades Extra Equipment: Deployable Blast Shield This device is stored as a 4.5ft rectangular metal rod, within which is a 'spool' of adamantine-alloy composite that allows for an incredibly durable but flexible shield. Deployment consists of dropping the device on the ground and kicking a starter pedal. This extends the sheet of adamantine upward to approximately 7.7ft. In the centre is a hole large enough for Enoch to deploy his cannon, providing a limited but pinpoint accurate field of fire as well as excellent defense against enemy ranged attack. Psychic Powers: Machine Manipulation Telepathy Telekinesis Stats: Strength: 6 Endurance: 6 Agility: 3 Psy Power: 3 Charisma: 5 Perception: 6 Intelligence: 6 Skills: Melee: 80 (30+30+15+5) Ranged: 80 (30+50) Heavy: 80 (30+30+20) Leadership: 60 (25+30+5) Acrobatics: 20 (15+5) Survival: 65 (30+30+5) Technology: 65 (30+30+5) Arcane Knowledge: 50 (15+30+5) Stealth: 15 (15) Enoch, though a powerful Imortale Prelitor, understands that he is just as expendable as everyone else, and accepts the knowlege that sooner or later he will die in the field of battle and his mantle undertaken by another warrior just as good as he. He doesn't speak much, save for affirming orders and the occasional shred of tactical advice, which is always delivered in a blunt, matter-of-fact manner which does little to portray his emotions. Enoch shuns all sense of pride and moral; he preffers to get the job done right, over getting the job done in a blaze of glory</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia stroke through the hall not even glancing at the myriad of people around him. He has finally taken his rightful place as an Immortal and no longer would he have to pretend to smile and make nice with the people around him. He could finally revel in what he truly loved. Blood and violence. For years he had trained to master his powers and, although not born a women, his physic powers had become incredibly powerful. Nakinia struck his staff into the ground every step, small sparks flying from the impact point. His sword swayed gently at his hip as he walked. He finally reached the gathering of his 'comrades,' he sneered inwardly as he looked around at them. None of them were his equal save perhaps the leader himself. Towards him Nakinia's expression changed into one of indifference and a slight hint of respect for the ancient warrior. "Nakinia Orbalan reporting in sir." He places special emphasis on his last name to try and show those around him that he was greater than most of them. 'Still' her thought to himself 'I wonder if any of these other immortals will be worthy of one such as me.'</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna held back her surprise with a short gasp when the room filled with immense psychic energy, feeling the shuddering waves warping around the throne before he even signaled his arrival. It was an aura she had never before felt, crippling yet soft and warm. Truly, even though they called her a prodigy, she was like a meager candle held against a raging bonfire. She could only appreciate this fact with a slight nod of her head and a faint smile. To serve, to have purpose meant more to her than anything. When He finally appeared physically, in a flash of brilliant light, she was forced to go 'blind', as to prevent her senses from getting overwhelmed by the sheer power. The young Savantus was almost at a loss, and normally she would be, but Vienna had been prepared for this encounter for a long time now. Doing what she had rehearsed for hours into the mirror the night prior, she immediately dropped onto her knees and bowed, her body laying across the ground in a look of humility. "Hail, the great protector, the Immortal Emperor. With every ounce of my body and soul can offer, may our people prosper under your reign, my god and king." she called, word for word, what they had taught her to say.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera, whose daydreaming sent him to sleep quickly awoke at a mysterious sound and blinding light. Senera quickly got up and brought up his shield to protect his eyes from the light, and cursed himself for not buying a pair of sunglasses. The light began to talk. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me.", it said. Senera then took a deep breath and poked his head from behind the shield to gaze directly a the blinding light. It was bright and caused a great deal of damage to his retina, but he easily regenerated it. It was a magnificent sight. There, a great figure sat on the throne; undoubtedly the emperor. Senera was mesmerized by him. He had heard much about the Emperor, his heroics, kindness, power. Yet, seeing him, and feeling his power in person was a world of a difference. Senera stood there for a while gazing at him. After a while, Senera was able to tear his eyes off the Emperor and look at the men surrounding him. His guard stood around him, along with Zepheus and a few others near him. However, most of them were frowning at him. Senera didn't understand. What were they so upset about. He was just standing there and admiring the Emperor. Then the coin dropped. Standing! A quick look around the hall told Senera told his that he was the only one standing while everyone was kneeling with reverence to the Emperor. What's worse, he was still holding his shield at the Emperor. Senera quickly wore his shield on his back again, and kneeled, facing the dusty ground.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Whether my design, or through the restricted movement of his armour, Enoch is both the first to start kneeling and the last to finish kneeling. Even if - in the same way the Auxilia knew he would one day die and be replaced - this Emperor would eventually pass away and be forgotten through the unrelenting sands of time, as a new Emperor finds his throne. For the time being, he knew respect was demanded and it would be given no matter how difficult it would be. Such thoughts gave way to a metaphor for the mission ahead. No matter the difficulty, the Emperor's will shall be done.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia The Emperor sat for a moment in silence, then motioned for all to rise. "I have called you here, my warriors, to bring my wrath down upon those who would threaten our great Empire! The manufacturing world of Arnax has rebeled, their armies are up in arms, assaulting nearby loyalist worlds. I have already dispatched two full battalion of Marines to begin the siege of the traitorous world. You are to take a state of the art ship from my own personal stock... I want you to find the leader of the Rebellion, a powerful Psychic and aristocrat. Gaius Invictus, of the House Tyrius! My own blood, distant through many generation. this betrayal will not go unpunished... Now go, take the Feronia, my personal exploratory ship, my friend here will accompany you he motions to the silent figure by his side and kill the traitors!" He then suddenly vanished, fading from all detection in a mere instant. The Guards fled back behind the Throne without a word, disappearing from sight. The silent warrior remained, leading you to the docking bay of the great Imperial Spire, there you find a magnificent ship, ready and waiting. The docking bay is vast and cavernous, the great vaulted ceilings adorned lightly with murals of ancient spaceflight. The airlock is open, and the interior almost beckons you.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose looks around, and not seeing anyone else willing to step forward, enters the airlock, 'well come on comrades. Let's do this thing. Prove ourselves worthy of the Emperor's trust.' she finds her weapons in a weapons locker located in the airlock, and she equips her shield and sword</s>	<\|message\|>Enoch Kenz "It should not only be the Emperor's trust you seek at this time." Enoch grumbles, slowly following her inside, heeding the ship's calling. Beneath his helmet he lets a brief period of glee overcome him. He cannot begin to imagine the technological marvels within one of the Lord Emperor's prized vessels. He hoped the pilot was around to ask about the ship's specifications.</s>
<\|description\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Rank: Imortale Prelitor Savantus A quick concept sketch I drew; Stats: Each stat has a value of 0 by default, you get 35 points to use on stats as you see fit. Weapons and Psy powers have certain requirements, and Stats will also affect the way character behave. Each stat effects several skills, for every one stat point, the skills related to that stat go up by five points by default. Strength: 1 Melee, Heavy Weapons Endurance: 3 Melee, Survival Agility: 5 - Melee, Acrobatics, Stealth Psy Power: 7 - Arcane Knowledge Charisma: 0 - Leadership Perception: 10 - Ranged, Heavy, Technology Intelligence: 9- Leadership, Survival, Technology, Arcane Knowledge Skills: You will need skills to use weapons and abilities, or to allow for some actions. All skills start at baseline 0 and you get 100 points to use as you see fit. Melee: 0 + 25 + 15 + 5 = 45 Ranged Weapons: 0 + 45 = 45 Heavy Weapons: 0 + 45 + 5 = 50 Leadership: 0 + 40 = 40 Acrobatics: 0 + 25 = 25 Survival: 20 + 40 + 15 = 75 Technology: 30 + 40 + 45 = 115 Arcane Knowledge: 50 + 35 + 40 = 125 Stealth: 0 + 25 = 25 Recognized for her incredible gift for the psionic, and the innate dangerous nature she exhibits, Vienna has received special training separate from other Imortale Prelitors. Being imparted with advanced lessons from elder Savantus (just a placeholder name, since I don't know a better term for elite psychics) in decades-long training has effectively honed her focus with her powerful psionic abilities. This has made her a powerful psychic, but a comparably weak martial fighter. As such, she is issued no combat arms, due to the weaknesses imposed by her special equipment, and has been tailored into a fully psychic/support role, mastering more psy-powers than usual in order to manipulate the battlefield from a safer distance. Notably, she has a strong link to machines, believing that some of them have developed 'Souls'. Equipment: -none. Special Equipment: - Psy Focus; Blank Stare Due to her intense psionic powers, Vienna is a living conduit for such energies, considered a prodigy of sorts. Though her gift over these powers is equally a curse, often amplifying them to lethal degrees. Ever since a terrible accident in her past, she has been forced to wear this inhibitor, which covers the upper portion of her head and both eyes, in order to calm her mind to properly focus and direct her violent powers. If this artifact ever leaves physical contact with her, she will undergo a state of shock and unleash uncontrollable arcs of violent psionic energy and draw in all sources that utilize such power. This is dangerous for herself and anyone around her. Prolonged periods will cause her to literally rip herself from existence. - Makes her invisible to most psionic scanners. - Uninvited attempts by others to control or peer into her mind is made much more difficult. And even if successful, intruders will be met with violent and horrific hallucinations. Only the most resolute of mind, or already maddened, can tolerate this experience. - Blocks all manner of natural eyesight, but grants her a unique ability known as 'Sightlessness'. Psy Powers: - 'Healing Factor/Regeneration' - 'Machine Manipulation' - 'Telekinesis' - 'Telepathy' - 'Teleportation' - 'Lightning' - 'Sightlessness'; Unable to use her eyes, Vienna uses her focus to amplify faint pulses of psionic energy that allow her to see shapes and figures in a wide range around her. The further away an object is, the more blurry and undefined they appear to her. Personality: Vienna is a kind soul, never wishing to hurt others. Not even now. Her father was never there in her life, so the little girl was raised only by a single parent. Her beloved mother. All she wishes is to please and protect her only parent, whom gave her everything when they had less than nothing. But her simple wishes were never meant to be. When she was discovered at a young age to possess abilities that distinguished her among even elder psychics, she was taken away from the ruins of her home and made into a tool to serve the Immortal Emperor. Fitted with inhibitors to cant her festering powers, until she is strong enough to act without them, she has been made to practice her abilities for decades. Under the silent watch of the Librarians of the Grand Archives, she has been made a powerful psychic and machine-whisperer, forgoing most other skills in order to make her excel in these fields. She hasn't set foot outside the sacred temples in what seems to be a lifetime, completely naive, innocent, and curious as ever to the new experience. (Again, just placeholder names) Due to her isolation from others, she has very underdeveloped social skills and can be very passive when it comes to her own thoughts. She can be awkward at times or unable to read the mood. ...</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna had never been graced to be allowed into these venerated halls before, taking in her new environment as each wall and crevice molded in the darkness of her mind. She had been watching others sent when they were given the call, even those she felt less capable than herself. 'You are not ready', they would say, and she would return to training for another year. But today was special and different from the others. It was she was sent to the inner sanctums this time, to commune with the Immortal Emperor. Maybe now they saw something worthy of her. She felt very proud indeed. When she finally reached her destination, Vienna kept her head low as she tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone, on the off-chance she would offend a superior rank or someone of nobility. Such strict laws and traditions, but she understood them. Just as they branded her with special rules, it is for the betterment of their people. Although not that such a thing would be possible in the first place. Her engraved silvered-mask covered most of her face and her eyes. It was more she was trying to keep a low profile, issuing greetings only when necessary. "Ah... my sincerest greetings too, elder brother." she breathed to one of the men in the grand amber-lit halls leading to the Throne Room that reached out to her. Each word was soft, like a murmur, as though it was hard for her to speak. He didn't look like someone from her own unit, so she wasn't really interested in what he had to say. It was a dry sort of truth, but if she was going to strain herself to socialize, she only wanted to do so when absolutely needed. They would probably never see each other again anyways. Biding time for a chance to depart with a few modest nods to his exchanges across the ruthless ticking minutes, she found an opportunity when an acquaintance of his appeared. By the two clasped in a handshake she was already gone. Truthfully, she was just never good with words, let alone eloquently disarming a social dilemma if it occurred. There was no doubt she might say something callous without even realizing it and offend someone, or say nothing and offend someone. Judging how she didn't know how go about such things, the windows for failure were quite vast. Best she avoided it all. She had few rights as it was and she preferred to not spoil them, especially now. She soon found a place alone by one of the intricately carved pillars, leaning back against it with a sigh. Her resting spot was a safe distance away from the others, as she was afraid her very presence might send an uncomfortable chill down their spines. As her powers were quite untamed around other sources, even with the inhibitors placed. And her emotions were flaring. She felt overwhelmed by the new environment, happiness, fear, anxiety, excitement; all of it smothered her. Vienna only hoped she can make a good impression now that it mattered. ...</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose walks towards Zepheus, and bows to him, her jet black hair cut short , and her scabbard, empty, aswell as her back holster for her battle rifle, the side holster for her shield also empty, as, despite its defensive nature, the shield is still classified as a weapon 'It will be a pleasure to work beneath you, Sir.' her voice is softer than expected, barely louder than a whisper, and it is obvious she primarily uses her telepathy for communication, not her voice. She bows again, and returns to the rest of her squad, nodding at Enoch in passing. She notices Vienna, and walks over to her. 'Hello there. You seem uneasy, is there anything I can do to help?'</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch returns the brisk nod toward the passing Rose; the electrical servos nestled within his armour plate grind and squeal as he elevates himself back to a standing position. His imposing 9ft frame is yet more dramatic with the application of the incredibly thick and heavy Power Armour he has adopted for this meeting. The sheer bulk of it rises him to at least another foot off the ground, and nearly twice as wide as any other Prelitor in the room. "Auxilia Optima: you remember correctly." Enoch makes no effort to even glance at anyone else. They are not deserving of neither his words nor his look, until the Prelitor can deem them worthy of his respect.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus keeps his eye on the solemn woman with the covering over her eyes. A Savantus of great power and greater potential... But would she have what it takes to be a part of this team? That had yet to be seen. In all his long years of service, eight centuries of life, he had seen countless warriors and sages like the ones around him. They had been young, strong, and full of youth just as these men and women are. And they were all dead. Broken by conflicts past, the mighty armies of religious zealots, the nawing hunger of the Great Swarm, the mindless violence of the Walking War. He was one of the oldest Imortale Prelitor left alive, many the elders had been slain, so to many of the younger warriors, barely baptized in their first war. He would now lead a new generation of warriors, sages, maniacs, and kind souls to war, and all of its horrors. He turned to the Furia that had introduced herself, and was now speaking to the Savantus. He had seen recordings of her training, and was impressed. She would make a fine warrior if she survived long enough. He looked now at the Auxillia Optima before him. A heavy weapons expert and defensive/offensive fighter that could suit many a situation. He stood, waiting for the others to reveal themselves.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Without anyone else who appears to require him, Enoch chooses to stand parallel to Zepheus, on his right flank, and glares behind harsh yellow lenses at the other Prelitors who litter the room. Various mumblings sound from within his helmet; the tips of the fingers across his left hand tap rhythmically against his chestplate, dancing beneath his folded arms.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera approaches and bows in front of Zepheus, the leader of this operation. Then he walks away to a silent corner and sits down, and used his shield which is now strapped on his back as support as he reclines on the wall behind him. A few take notice and make a few snarky comments, but Senera's reclining comfortably, while they're still standing. Too much noise. He thinks to himself. He would love to get some shut eye but, he has no idea what's going to happen next so he just stays there, daydreaming about some situations that he read in his novels.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Lillian looks at Zepheus, as if measuring him herself, for a short moment - about the time it takes to blink two times, then she bows forward with a straight back, lowering her gaze to the floor. Some seconds later, she looks up without a single word and into face behind the helmet, awaiting his words.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus looks back at the Savantus, the glare of his eyeless helm lending to an aura of unnatural uneasiness. "Savantus, state your name." he commanded in a cool, but firm tone</s>	<\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna winced upon hearing the words, shoulders pushing up tensely. Her head darted back and forth as her mind scrambled to refocus, the shape of the figure registering in the darkness. She really was too absorbed within her own worries she didn't even notice this new arrival. She turned to face the approaching woman with a half-smile, embarrassed by her own skittishness. "Ah... my, don't worry about me... I am just thinking..." she paused. 'Wait. What kind of answer was that, Vienna? Hurry, you still have time to explain yourself! Choose words. She's going to think you've a mental disorder, or worse...!' But try as she might, all that came of her mouth were befuddled 'umms' and 'ahhs'. Her grin quickly faltered as she started panicking at the inability to find any real words. It was like the thoughts in her mind were just flushed down a drain, leaving her with complete blanks. Seconds felt like minutes as she struggled internally, mouth pinched as she squirmed in her boots. Vienna wanted to just back away into a dark corner and just die of embarrassment. But she couldn't just let the kind gesture go to waste, especially when they first initiated the interaction. This was the first time someone approached her on their own. Usually it was the opposite. No one wanted to even step anywhere near the ticking psionic bomb. She probably didn't even know about her dangerous reputation, so that's why. But still, to her, it was the thought was what mattered the most. Despite being strangers, they went out of her way to offer help to her, without even being asked. It might seem trivial to anyone who was even marginally socially adequate, but to Vienna, this woman appeared truly noble. Wait. A stranger! That's right, before every conversation was an exchange of names. She immediately bowed her head, hoping she could hide the darkness settling in her cheeks, "A-ah... where are my manners? I-I am Vienna Marx Sorielus... it is a pleasure to have you acquaintance, dear sister-in-arms..." Vienna remained this way, both awaiting a response while trying her best to keep her heart still. Blood was rushing into her face, the added heat making it feel like she was being cooked alive. She could faint from this unbearable stress at any moment. Her hands were shaking, she could feel them. What would her instructors think if they saw her now? She didn't want to disappoint them after all they did for her, not after the promise she made to herself and all the others. She had finally been given a chance to prove herself. She cursed herself. How would she even handle such an important duty as being an Imortale Prelitor if she couldn't handle something as simple as this? She didn't dare allow her mind to imagine the response this person would have to her odd mannerisms. ...</s>
<\|description\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Rank: Imortale Prelitor Savantus A quick concept sketch I drew; Stats: Each stat has a value of 0 by default, you get 35 points to use on stats as you see fit. Weapons and Psy powers have certain requirements, and Stats will also affect the way character behave. Each stat effects several skills, for every one stat point, the skills related to that stat go up by five points by default. Strength: 1 Melee, Heavy Weapons Endurance: 3 Melee, Survival Agility: 5 - Melee, Acrobatics, Stealth Psy Power: 7 - Arcane Knowledge Charisma: 0 - Leadership Perception: 10 - Ranged, Heavy, Technology Intelligence: 9- Leadership, Survival, Technology, Arcane Knowledge Skills: You will need skills to use weapons and abilities, or to allow for some actions. All skills start at baseline 0 and you get 100 points to use as you see fit. Melee: 0 + 25 + 15 + 5 = 45 Ranged Weapons: 0 + 45 = 45 Heavy Weapons: 0 + 45 + 5 = 50 Leadership: 0 + 40 = 40 Acrobatics: 0 + 25 = 25 Survival: 20 + 40 + 15 = 75 Technology: 30 + 40 + 45 = 115 Arcane Knowledge: 50 + 35 + 40 = 125 Stealth: 0 + 25 = 25 Recognized for her incredible gift for the psionic, and the innate dangerous nature she exhibits, Vienna has received special training separate from other Imortale Prelitors. Being imparted with advanced lessons from elder Savantus (just a placeholder name, since I don't know a better term for elite psychics) in decades-long training has effectively honed her focus with her powerful psionic abilities. This has made her a powerful psychic, but a comparably weak martial fighter. As such, she is issued no combat arms, due to the weaknesses imposed by her special equipment, and has been tailored into a fully psychic/support role, mastering more psy-powers than usual in order to manipulate the battlefield from a safer distance. Notably, she has a strong link to machines, believing that some of them have developed 'Souls'. Equipment: -none. Special Equipment: - Psy Focus; Blank Stare Due to her intense psionic powers, Vienna is a living conduit for such energies, considered a prodigy of sorts. Though her gift over these powers is equally a curse, often amplifying them to lethal degrees. Ever since a terrible accident in her past, she has been forced to wear this inhibitor, which covers the upper portion of her head and both eyes, in order to calm her mind to properly focus and direct her violent powers. If this artifact ever leaves physical contact with her, she will undergo a state of shock and unleash uncontrollable arcs of violent psionic energy and draw in all sources that utilize such power. This is dangerous for herself and anyone around her. Prolonged periods will cause her to literally rip herself from existence. - Makes her invisible to most psionic scanners. - Uninvited attempts by others to control or peer into her mind is made much more difficult. And even if successful, intruders will be met with violent and horrific hallucinations. Only the most resolute of mind, or already maddened, can tolerate this experience. - Blocks all manner of natural eyesight, but grants her a unique ability known as 'Sightlessness'. Psy Powers: - 'Healing Factor/Regeneration' - 'Machine Manipulation' - 'Telekinesis' - 'Telepathy' - 'Teleportation' - 'Lightning' - 'Sightlessness'; Unable to use her eyes, Vienna uses her focus to amplify faint pulses of psionic energy that allow her to see shapes and figures in a wide range around her. The further away an object is, the more blurry and undefined they appear to her. Personality: Vienna is a kind soul, never wishing to hurt others. Not even now. Her father was never there in her life, so the little girl was raised only by a single parent. Her beloved mother. All she wishes is to please and protect her only parent, whom gave her everything when they had less than nothing. But her simple wishes were never meant to be. When she was discovered at a young age to possess abilities that distinguished her among even elder psychics, she was taken away from the ruins of her home and made into a tool to serve the Immortal Emperor. Fitted with inhibitors to cant her festering powers, until she is strong enough to act without them, she has been made to practice her abilities for decades. Under the silent watch of the Librarians of the Grand Archives, she has been made a powerful psychic and machine-whisperer, forgoing most other skills in order to make her excel in these fields. She hasn't set foot outside the sacred temples in what seems to be a lifetime, completely naive, innocent, and curious as ever to the new experience. (Again, just placeholder names) Due to her isolation from others, she has very underdeveloped social skills and can be very passive when it comes to her own thoughts. She can be awkward at times or unable to read the mood. ...</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia stroke through the hall not even glancing at the myriad of people around him. He has finally taken his rightful place as an Immortal and no longer would he have to pretend to smile and make nice with the people around him. He could finally revel in what he truly loved. Blood and violence. For years he had trained to master his powers and, although not born a women, his physic powers had become incredibly powerful. Nakinia struck his staff into the ground every step, small sparks flying from the impact point. His sword swayed gently at his hip as he walked. He finally reached the gathering of his 'comrades,' he sneered inwardly as he looked around at them. None of them were his equal save perhaps the leader himself. Towards him Nakinia's expression changed into one of indifference and a slight hint of respect for the ancient warrior. "Nakinia Orbalan reporting in sir." He places special emphasis on his last name to try and show those around him that he was greater than most of them. 'Still' her thought to himself 'I wonder if any of these other immortals will be worthy of one such as me.'</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s>	<\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna held back her surprise with a short gasp when the room filled with immense psychic energy, feeling the shuddering waves warping around the throne before he even signaled his arrival. It was an aura she had never before felt, crippling yet soft and warm. Truly, even though they called her a prodigy, she was like a meager candle held against a raging bonfire. She could only appreciate this fact with a slight nod of her head and a faint smile. To serve, to have purpose meant more to her than anything. When He finally appeared physically, in a flash of brilliant light, she was forced to go 'blind', as to prevent her senses from getting overwhelmed by the sheer power. The young Savantus was almost at a loss, and normally she would be, but Vienna had been prepared for this encounter for a long time now. Doing what she had rehearsed for hours into the mirror the night prior, she immediately dropped onto her knees and bowed, her body laying across the ground in a look of humility. "Hail, the great protector, the Immortal Emperor. With every ounce of my body and soul can offer, may our people prosper under your reign, my god and king." she called, word for word, what they had taught her to say.</s>
<\|description\|>Rose Iris Rank: Imortale Prelitor Furia STATS: Strength:5 Endurance:5 Agility:1 Psionic Powers:5 Charisma:5 Perception:9 Intelligence:5 Skills: Melee:55+0={55} Ranged:45+10={55} Heavy Weapons:50+0={50} Leadership:50+15={65} Acrobatics:5+0={5} Survival:25+25={50} Technology:50+0={50} Arcane Knowledge:50+25={75} Stealth:5+25={30} Psyonic Powers: Teleportation: Teleport short distances in an instant, overuse could lead to you fading from existence. Requirements: Arcane(50) Telepathy: Reading minds, communication over distance. Requirements(none) Forewarning: Increase reaction time by seeing threats before they happen. You see it mere seconds before. Requirements: Arcane(60) Heightened Awareness: Projects a psychic ghost, predicting the next movement of the targeted person. The ghost is visible only to the person using the power. While it is active, Telepathy and ForeWarning are un-usable. Less effective against those trained to resist psychic powers. Arcane(70) Primary Weapon: Destroyer of Faded Memories: Artemis Acceleration Cannon: This MAW is oriented towards, and only really useful at, long to extreme ranges, with a high resolution scope, and targeting camera, only skilled marksmens may wield this weapon. 4 round magazine. Heavy(25), Ranged(50) Secondary Weapon: Last Hope of the Shadows: MAW-23 Battle Rifle: 4 round burst, 2.4 second wait between bursts. Variable Zoom scope, infrared. Requirements: Ranged(45) Melee: Dawnbreaker, Promise of Grieving Widows: Fractal Edge Longsword Grenades: 3x Plasma 2x Smoke Special Equipment: Dusk: Fractal Shield: This shield is made with ancient and arcane technology, using methods all but lost to the great Empire. Forged from the same metal as Fractal Edged weapons, this shield phases into existence as an object impacts it, and, as it phases out, repairs itself, becoming nigh indestructible. Can be used as a weapon, with the edge acting as a fractal edge sword. Arcane(60) Personality: She is very personable amongst her team, but views outsiders with suspicion, and doesn't talk to those she doesn't know well. In combat, she is either miles from the engagement, providing pinpoint sniper cover, or in the midst of close.combat, teleporting around the battlefield, destroying enemies, while seeming to dodge all attacks, and providing constant updates to the rest of her squad. Bio: Most of her weapons, all save the grenades, were handed down from ages past, weapons wielded by the first member of her family to be born an Imortale Prelitor.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Shadows of a Broken Empire: Rise of the Immortals For years you have trained in the arts of the Imortale Prelitor. The ways of war and power, unlocking secrets of life and death. You were raised on the world of Valakryia, in the Temple of Sacred Flame, by the mystics and Librarians who represent the elders of your order. Now you stand in the Hall of Fate, before the Immortal Throne of the Emperor Lucan the First. As you await the arrival of your Lord you see the other Imortale Prelitor around you. These men and women will be as your brothers and sisters in the coming tribulations... Your future may rest in their hands. Zepheus stands near the doors to the Throne room, his arms crossed. His signature Warpack absent as no weapon is permitted in these hallowed halls. He seems to be observing each of the younger Imortale Prelitor... As if measuring them. [Turn Begin]</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch slowly marches toward Zepheus and gradually lowers himself to one knee, bowing his head in reverence. "'Tis an honour to be serving within your presence." His surprisingly 'average' sounding voice - compared to the low and booming tone one would expect from a bulky Auxilia like himself - remains flat and devoid of the kind of elation one should feel when saying such words.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia "Rise, Optima. You are said to have been best in your class. Heavy support if I remember correctly?" his voice was deep and he spoke barely above a whisper.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna had never been graced to be allowed into these venerated halls before, taking in her new environment as each wall and crevice molded in the darkness of her mind. She had been watching others sent when they were given the call, even those she felt less capable than herself. 'You are not ready', they would say, and she would return to training for another year. But today was special and different from the others. It was she was sent to the inner sanctums this time, to commune with the Immortal Emperor. Maybe now they saw something worthy of her. She felt very proud indeed. When she finally reached her destination, Vienna kept her head low as she tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone, on the off-chance she would offend a superior rank or someone of nobility. Such strict laws and traditions, but she understood them. Just as they branded her with special rules, it is for the betterment of their people. Although not that such a thing would be possible in the first place. Her engraved silvered-mask covered most of her face and her eyes. It was more she was trying to keep a low profile, issuing greetings only when necessary. "Ah... my sincerest greetings too, elder brother." she breathed to one of the men in the grand amber-lit halls leading to the Throne Room that reached out to her. Each word was soft, like a murmur, as though it was hard for her to speak. He didn't look like someone from her own unit, so she wasn't really interested in what he had to say. It was a dry sort of truth, but if she was going to strain herself to socialize, she only wanted to do so when absolutely needed. They would probably never see each other again anyways. Biding time for a chance to depart with a few modest nods to his exchanges across the ruthless ticking minutes, she found an opportunity when an acquaintance of his appeared. By the two clasped in a handshake she was already gone. Truthfully, she was just never good with words, let alone eloquently disarming a social dilemma if it occurred. There was no doubt she might say something callous without even realizing it and offend someone, or say nothing and offend someone. Judging how she didn't know how go about such things, the windows for failure were quite vast. Best she avoided it all. She had few rights as it was and she preferred to not spoil them, especially now. She soon found a place alone by one of the intricately carved pillars, leaning back against it with a sigh. Her resting spot was a safe distance away from the others, as she was afraid her very presence might send an uncomfortable chill down their spines. As her powers were quite untamed around other sources, even with the inhibitors placed. And her emotions were flaring. She felt overwhelmed by the new environment, happiness, fear, anxiety, excitement; all of it smothered her. Vienna only hoped she can make a good impression now that it mattered. ...</s>	<\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose walks towards Zepheus, and bows to him, her jet black hair cut short , and her scabbard, empty, aswell as her back holster for her battle rifle, the side holster for her shield also empty, as, despite its defensive nature, the shield is still classified as a weapon 'It will be a pleasure to work beneath you, Sir.' her voice is softer than expected, barely louder than a whisper, and it is obvious she primarily uses her telepathy for communication, not her voice. She bows again, and returns to the rest of her squad, nodding at Enoch in passing. She notices Vienna, and walks over to her. 'Hello there. You seem uneasy, is there anything I can do to help?'</s>
<\|description\|>Rose Iris Rank: Imortale Prelitor Furia STATS: Strength:5 Endurance:5 Agility:1 Psionic Powers:5 Charisma:5 Perception:9 Intelligence:5 Skills: Melee:55+0={55} Ranged:45+10={55} Heavy Weapons:50+0={50} Leadership:50+15={65} Acrobatics:5+0={5} Survival:25+25={50} Technology:50+0={50} Arcane Knowledge:50+25={75} Stealth:5+25={30} Psyonic Powers: Teleportation: Teleport short distances in an instant, overuse could lead to you fading from existence. Requirements: Arcane(50) Telepathy: Reading minds, communication over distance. Requirements(none) Forewarning: Increase reaction time by seeing threats before they happen. You see it mere seconds before. Requirements: Arcane(60) Heightened Awareness: Projects a psychic ghost, predicting the next movement of the targeted person. The ghost is visible only to the person using the power. While it is active, Telepathy and ForeWarning are un-usable. Less effective against those trained to resist psychic powers. Arcane(70) Primary Weapon: Destroyer of Faded Memories: Artemis Acceleration Cannon: This MAW is oriented towards, and only really useful at, long to extreme ranges, with a high resolution scope, and targeting camera, only skilled marksmens may wield this weapon. 4 round magazine. Heavy(25), Ranged(50) Secondary Weapon: Last Hope of the Shadows: MAW-23 Battle Rifle: 4 round burst, 2.4 second wait between bursts. Variable Zoom scope, infrared. Requirements: Ranged(45) Melee: Dawnbreaker, Promise of Grieving Widows: Fractal Edge Longsword Grenades: 3x Plasma 2x Smoke Special Equipment: Dusk: Fractal Shield: This shield is made with ancient and arcane technology, using methods all but lost to the great Empire. Forged from the same metal as Fractal Edged weapons, this shield phases into existence as an object impacts it, and, as it phases out, repairs itself, becoming nigh indestructible. Can be used as a weapon, with the edge acting as a fractal edge sword. Arcane(60) Personality: She is very personable amongst her team, but views outsiders with suspicion, and doesn't talk to those she doesn't know well. In combat, she is either miles from the engagement, providing pinpoint sniper cover, or in the midst of close.combat, teleporting around the battlefield, destroying enemies, while seeming to dodge all attacks, and providing constant updates to the rest of her squad. Bio: Most of her weapons, all save the grenades, were handed down from ages past, weapons wielded by the first member of her family to be born an Imortale Prelitor.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia stroke through the hall not even glancing at the myriad of people around him. He has finally taken his rightful place as an Immortal and no longer would he have to pretend to smile and make nice with the people around him. He could finally revel in what he truly loved. Blood and violence. For years he had trained to master his powers and, although not born a women, his physic powers had become incredibly powerful. Nakinia struck his staff into the ground every step, small sparks flying from the impact point. His sword swayed gently at his hip as he walked. He finally reached the gathering of his 'comrades,' he sneered inwardly as he looked around at them. None of them were his equal save perhaps the leader himself. Towards him Nakinia's expression changed into one of indifference and a slight hint of respect for the ancient warrior. "Nakinia Orbalan reporting in sir." He places special emphasis on his last name to try and show those around him that he was greater than most of them. 'Still' her thought to himself 'I wonder if any of these other immortals will be worthy of one such as me.'</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna held back her surprise with a short gasp when the room filled with immense psychic energy, feeling the shuddering waves warping around the throne before he even signaled his arrival. It was an aura she had never before felt, crippling yet soft and warm. Truly, even though they called her a prodigy, she was like a meager candle held against a raging bonfire. She could only appreciate this fact with a slight nod of her head and a faint smile. To serve, to have purpose meant more to her than anything. When He finally appeared physically, in a flash of brilliant light, she was forced to go 'blind', as to prevent her senses from getting overwhelmed by the sheer power. The young Savantus was almost at a loss, and normally she would be, but Vienna had been prepared for this encounter for a long time now. Doing what she had rehearsed for hours into the mirror the night prior, she immediately dropped onto her knees and bowed, her body laying across the ground in a look of humility. "Hail, the great protector, the Immortal Emperor. With every ounce of my body and soul can offer, may our people prosper under your reign, my god and king." she called, word for word, what they had taught her to say.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera, whose daydreaming sent him to sleep quickly awoke at a mysterious sound and blinding light. Senera quickly got up and brought up his shield to protect his eyes from the light, and cursed himself for not buying a pair of sunglasses. The light began to talk. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me.", it said. Senera then took a deep breath and poked his head from behind the shield to gaze directly a the blinding light. It was bright and caused a great deal of damage to his retina, but he easily regenerated it. It was a magnificent sight. There, a great figure sat on the throne; undoubtedly the emperor. Senera was mesmerized by him. He had heard much about the Emperor, his heroics, kindness, power. Yet, seeing him, and feeling his power in person was a world of a difference. Senera stood there for a while gazing at him. After a while, Senera was able to tear his eyes off the Emperor and look at the men surrounding him. His guard stood around him, along with Zepheus and a few others near him. However, most of them were frowning at him. Senera didn't understand. What were they so upset about. He was just standing there and admiring the Emperor. Then the coin dropped. Standing! A quick look around the hall told Senera told his that he was the only one standing while everyone was kneeling with reverence to the Emperor. What's worse, he was still holding his shield at the Emperor. Senera quickly wore his shield on his back again, and kneeled, facing the dusty ground.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Whether my design, or through the restricted movement of his armour, Enoch is both the first to start kneeling and the last to finish kneeling. Even if - in the same way the Auxilia knew he would one day die and be replaced - this Emperor would eventually pass away and be forgotten through the unrelenting sands of time, as a new Emperor finds his throne. For the time being, he knew respect was demanded and it would be given no matter how difficult it would be. Such thoughts gave way to a metaphor for the mission ahead. No matter the difficulty, the Emperor's will shall be done.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia The Emperor sat for a moment in silence, then motioned for all to rise. "I have called you here, my warriors, to bring my wrath down upon those who would threaten our great Empire! The manufacturing world of Arnax has rebeled, their armies are up in arms, assaulting nearby loyalist worlds. I have already dispatched two full battalion of Marines to begin the siege of the traitorous world. You are to take a state of the art ship from my own personal stock... I want you to find the leader of the Rebellion, a powerful Psychic and aristocrat. Gaius Invictus, of the House Tyrius! My own blood, distant through many generation. this betrayal will not go unpunished... Now go, take the Feronia, my personal exploratory ship, my friend here will accompany you he motions to the silent figure by his side and kill the traitors!" He then suddenly vanished, fading from all detection in a mere instant. The Guards fled back behind the Throne without a word, disappearing from sight. The silent warrior remained, leading you to the docking bay of the great Imperial Spire, there you find a magnificent ship, ready and waiting. The docking bay is vast and cavernous, the great vaulted ceilings adorned lightly with murals of ancient spaceflight. The airlock is open, and the interior almost beckons you.</s>	<\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose looks around, and not seeing anyone else willing to step forward, enters the airlock, 'well come on comrades. Let's do this thing. Prove ourselves worthy of the Emperor's trust.' she finds her weapons in a weapons locker located in the airlock, and she equips her shield and sword</s>
<\|description\|>Senera Fernando Rank: Imortale Prelitor Primus STATS Strength:5 Endurance:10 Agility:5 Psyonic Power:5 Charisma:0 Perception:5 Intelligence:5 SKILLS Melee:100 Ranged:25 Heavy:50 Leadership:25 Acrobatics:25+50=75 Survival:75+25=100 Technology:50 Arcane Knowledge:50+25=75 Stealth:25 Psionic Powers: Forewarning: Increase reaction time by seeing threats before they happen. You see it mere seconds before. Requirements: Arcane(60) Healing Factor/Regeneration: Stave off wounds normally fatal by healing in moments. This can be negated by life drain powers and attacks that affect the soul. Instadeath attacks will kill you regardless. You can die due to blood loss. Requirements: Arcane(50) Supernatural Strength: Your strength is beyond normal limits, also making your endurance much higher. Requirements: Arcane(30) Life Drain: Drain the very life force from your foe, adding to your own. Requirements: Arcane(60) Weapons: Primary:PX3 Rifle: Automatic, medium range, great stopping power. Orange plasma bolts. 400 rounds per power pack. Requirements: Ranged(20) Melee: Fractal Edge Katana Grenades: 2 Plasma Grenades, 2 Smoke Grenades Special Equipment:Storm Shield(An unbreakable shield that has existed in Senera's family for generations) Personality: Senera is generally a kind person. And unless he is fighting an evil bastard, he is usually very merciful. He also trusts people, maybe a bit too much. Even though he is very good at fighting, Senera lacks charisma. So he doesn't talk much and usually avoids large social congregations and events. He would rather train or read a good book. This has led to him developing a stoic attitude. Even when he talks, he is very reserved and talks as less as possible. However when he interacts with people that he considers to be good friends, he talks a lot freely, and his inept social skills start to show. Needless to say, he has made only a few friends. He is also an idealist.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna held back her surprise with a short gasp when the room filled with immense psychic energy, feeling the shuddering waves warping around the throne before he even signaled his arrival. It was an aura she had never before felt, crippling yet soft and warm. Truly, even though they called her a prodigy, she was like a meager candle held against a raging bonfire. She could only appreciate this fact with a slight nod of her head and a faint smile. To serve, to have purpose meant more to her than anything. When He finally appeared physically, in a flash of brilliant light, she was forced to go 'blind', as to prevent her senses from getting overwhelmed by the sheer power. The young Savantus was almost at a loss, and normally she would be, but Vienna had been prepared for this encounter for a long time now. Doing what she had rehearsed for hours into the mirror the night prior, she immediately dropped onto her knees and bowed, her body laying across the ground in a look of humility. "Hail, the great protector, the Immortal Emperor. With every ounce of my body and soul can offer, may our people prosper under your reign, my god and king." she called, word for word, what they had taught her to say.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera, whose daydreaming sent him to sleep quickly awoke at a mysterious sound and blinding light. Senera quickly got up and brought up his shield to protect his eyes from the light, and cursed himself for not buying a pair of sunglasses. The light began to talk. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me.", it said. Senera then took a deep breath and poked his head from behind the shield to gaze directly a the blinding light. It was bright and caused a great deal of damage to his retina, but he easily regenerated it. It was a magnificent sight. There, a great figure sat on the throne; undoubtedly the emperor. Senera was mesmerized by him. He had heard much about the Emperor, his heroics, kindness, power. Yet, seeing him, and feeling his power in person was a world of a difference. Senera stood there for a while gazing at him. After a while, Senera was able to tear his eyes off the Emperor and look at the men surrounding him. His guard stood around him, along with Zepheus and a few others near him. However, most of them were frowning at him. Senera didn't understand. What were they so upset about. He was just standing there and admiring the Emperor. Then the coin dropped. Standing! A quick look around the hall told Senera told his that he was the only one standing while everyone was kneeling with reverence to the Emperor. What's worse, he was still holding his shield at the Emperor. Senera quickly wore his shield on his back again, and kneeled, facing the dusty ground.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Whether my design, or through the restricted movement of his armour, Enoch is both the first to start kneeling and the last to finish kneeling. Even if - in the same way the Auxilia knew he would one day die and be replaced - this Emperor would eventually pass away and be forgotten through the unrelenting sands of time, as a new Emperor finds his throne. For the time being, he knew respect was demanded and it would be given no matter how difficult it would be. Such thoughts gave way to a metaphor for the mission ahead. No matter the difficulty, the Emperor's will shall be done.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia The Emperor sat for a moment in silence, then motioned for all to rise. "I have called you here, my warriors, to bring my wrath down upon those who would threaten our great Empire! The manufacturing world of Arnax has rebeled, their armies are up in arms, assaulting nearby loyalist worlds. I have already dispatched two full battalion of Marines to begin the siege of the traitorous world. You are to take a state of the art ship from my own personal stock... I want you to find the leader of the Rebellion, a powerful Psychic and aristocrat. Gaius Invictus, of the House Tyrius! My own blood, distant through many generation. this betrayal will not go unpunished... Now go, take the Feronia, my personal exploratory ship, my friend here will accompany you he motions to the silent figure by his side and kill the traitors!" He then suddenly vanished, fading from all detection in a mere instant. The Guards fled back behind the Throne without a word, disappearing from sight. The silent warrior remained, leading you to the docking bay of the great Imperial Spire, there you find a magnificent ship, ready and waiting. The docking bay is vast and cavernous, the great vaulted ceilings adorned lightly with murals of ancient spaceflight. The airlock is open, and the interior almost beckons you.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose looks around, and not seeing anyone else willing to step forward, enters the airlock, 'well come on comrades. Let's do this thing. Prove ourselves worthy of the Emperor's trust.' she finds her weapons in a weapons locker located in the airlock, and she equips her shield and sword</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz "It should not only be the Emperor's trust you seek at this time." Enoch grumbles, slowly following her inside, heeding the ship's calling. Beneath his helmet he lets a brief period of glee overcome him. He cannot begin to imagine the technological marvels within one of the Lord Emperor's prized vessels. He hoped the pilot was around to ask about the ship's specifications.</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf Veovulf stood guard at the opening of the ship, watching silently as the new recruits filed inside one by one. He knew the ship well, for he had first gained consciousness within that ship, like a child borne of machines, with the emperor to serve as his father, seeing his smiling face as he took his first steps in life, although at that time, his world was dark and meaningless for he had not yet truly awakened. Veovulf stepped in front of the large enoch, slightly overshadowing the young optima with his mechanized, bio-synthetic stature. "Mind the halls, Prelitor Optima: Enoch...some walls may not accommodate free movement within that issued powered armor, caution is advised." He stepped out of his way again, to allow him free entry, his voice deep and heavily synthesized, sounding as if two were speaking at once. A slight breeze picked up, whipping the black silks about on his body.</s>	<\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera follows the rest of the Imortale Prelitors onto the Feronia, and obtains his Katana; on which the words "七転び八起き (nanakorobi yaoki)" are engraved, and PX3 rifle from the weapons locker. "Everybody seems too bloody eager to get into the fighting. I wonder if they find death appealing." He thinks. He then finds a quiet corner and begins to check on the details of the mission on his data slate; Estimated enemy strength and numbers, defenses, loyalist strength, and numbers, etc... "Gaius Invictus. I wonder why he rebelled. Idiot....."</s>
<\|description\|>Lillian Ketzerin Imortale Prelitor Savantus Arms: 1x MNR REGALIA SMG Special EQ: Powerfist + melee weapon + requires 10 strenght but no skill since it's just punching things. + strong impact on direct hit, capeable of breaking trough armour + shatters bones completly, absolutly lethal to unarmoured targets + cumbersome and slow, might be discarded and retrieved later to have better manuveability + lowers atletic and acrobatic skill by 1 to a minimum of 0 psy-power: Molten Beam Flaming Form Healing Factor/Regeneration Stats: Str: 10 End: 5 Agil: 5 Psy: 10 Char: 5 Percep: 0 Int: 0 Skills: Melee: (10+50+25+25) =110 Ranged: (20) = 20 Heavy: (0+50) = 50 Leadership: (0+25) = 25 Acrobatics: (20+25) = 45 Survival: (20+25) = 45 Technology: (0) = 0 Arcane Knowledge:(30+50)= 80 Stealth: (0+25) = 25 Personality: Impulsive, anarchistic, has some problems with authority. Prefers small groups of comrades over serving in large armies and activly tries to avoid going with the masses, instead Lillian often chooses to side with outcasts. She is neither greedy nor selfless, she seems to choose to do things especially then, when it's the less favored side. However, she does accept that she can be wrong and generally tries not to hurt or kill anyone unless neccessary. On the Contrary, when provoked seems to go into an almost sadistic killing spree among those that she deems 'enemies'. Doesn't seem to have a strict Moral code when it comes to breaking laws. She tends to become loyal to people that she likes instead of people of power or authority. This doesn't mean that she cannot follow orders, but she will question them loudly and often laughs at superiors. She prefers to follow example instead of word.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch returns the brisk nod toward the passing Rose; the electrical servos nestled within his armour plate grind and squeal as he elevates himself back to a standing position. His imposing 9ft frame is yet more dramatic with the application of the incredibly thick and heavy Power Armour he has adopted for this meeting. The sheer bulk of it rises him to at least another foot off the ground, and nearly twice as wide as any other Prelitor in the room. "Auxilia Optima: you remember correctly." Enoch makes no effort to even glance at anyone else. They are not deserving of neither his words nor his look, until the Prelitor can deem them worthy of his respect.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus keeps his eye on the solemn woman with the covering over her eyes. A Savantus of great power and greater potential... But would she have what it takes to be a part of this team? That had yet to be seen. In all his long years of service, eight centuries of life, he had seen countless warriors and sages like the ones around him. They had been young, strong, and full of youth just as these men and women are. And they were all dead. Broken by conflicts past, the mighty armies of religious zealots, the nawing hunger of the Great Swarm, the mindless violence of the Walking War. He was one of the oldest Imortale Prelitor left alive, many the elders had been slain, so to many of the younger warriors, barely baptized in their first war. He would now lead a new generation of warriors, sages, maniacs, and kind souls to war, and all of its horrors. He turned to the Furia that had introduced herself, and was now speaking to the Savantus. He had seen recordings of her training, and was impressed. She would make a fine warrior if she survived long enough. He looked now at the Auxillia Optima before him. A heavy weapons expert and defensive/offensive fighter that could suit many a situation. He stood, waiting for the others to reveal themselves.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Without anyone else who appears to require him, Enoch chooses to stand parallel to Zepheus, on his right flank, and glares behind harsh yellow lenses at the other Prelitors who litter the room. Various mumblings sound from within his helmet; the tips of the fingers across his left hand tap rhythmically against his chestplate, dancing beneath his folded arms.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera approaches and bows in front of Zepheus, the leader of this operation. Then he walks away to a silent corner and sits down, and used his shield which is now strapped on his back as support as he reclines on the wall behind him. A few take notice and make a few snarky comments, but Senera's reclining comfortably, while they're still standing. Too much noise. He thinks to himself. He would love to get some shut eye but, he has no idea what's going to happen next so he just stays there, daydreaming about some situations that he read in his novels.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Lillian looks at Zepheus, as if measuring him herself, for a short moment - about the time it takes to blink two times, then she bows forward with a straight back, lowering her gaze to the floor. Some seconds later, she looks up without a single word and into face behind the helmet, awaiting his words.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus looks back at the Savantus, the glare of his eyeless helm lending to an aura of unnatural uneasiness. "Savantus, state your name." he commanded in a cool, but firm tone</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna winced upon hearing the words, shoulders pushing up tensely. Her head darted back and forth as her mind scrambled to refocus, the shape of the figure registering in the darkness. She really was too absorbed within her own worries she didn't even notice this new arrival. She turned to face the approaching woman with a half-smile, embarrassed by her own skittishness. "Ah... my, don't worry about me... I am just thinking..." she paused. 'Wait. What kind of answer was that, Vienna? Hurry, you still have time to explain yourself! Choose words. She's going to think you've a mental disorder, or worse...!' But try as she might, all that came of her mouth were befuddled 'umms' and 'ahhs'. Her grin quickly faltered as she started panicking at the inability to find any real words. It was like the thoughts in her mind were just flushed down a drain, leaving her with complete blanks. Seconds felt like minutes as she struggled internally, mouth pinched as she squirmed in her boots. Vienna wanted to just back away into a dark corner and just die of embarrassment. But she couldn't just let the kind gesture go to waste, especially when they first initiated the interaction. This was the first time someone approached her on their own. Usually it was the opposite. No one wanted to even step anywhere near the ticking psionic bomb. She probably didn't even know about her dangerous reputation, so that's why. But still, to her, it was the thought was what mattered the most. Despite being strangers, they went out of her way to offer help to her, without even being asked. It might seem trivial to anyone who was even marginally socially adequate, but to Vienna, this woman appeared truly noble. Wait. A stranger! That's right, before every conversation was an exchange of names. She immediately bowed her head, hoping she could hide the darkness settling in her cheeks, "A-ah... where are my manners? I-I am Vienna Marx Sorielus... it is a pleasure to have you acquaintance, dear sister-in-arms..." Vienna remained this way, both awaiting a response while trying her best to keep her heart still. Blood was rushing into her face, the added heat making it feel like she was being cooked alive. She could faint from this unbearable stress at any moment. Her hands were shaking, she could feel them. What would her instructors think if they saw her now? She didn't want to disappoint them after all they did for her, not after the promise she made to herself and all the others. She had finally been given a chance to prove herself. She cursed herself. How would she even handle such an important duty as being an Imortale Prelitor if she couldn't handle something as simple as this? She didn't dare allow her mind to imagine the response this person would have to her odd mannerisms. ...</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia stroke through the hall not even glancing at the myriad of people around him. He has finally taken his rightful place as an Immortal and no longer would he have to pretend to smile and make nice with the people around him. He could finally revel in what he truly loved. Blood and violence. For years he had trained to master his powers and, although not born a women, his physic powers had become incredibly powerful. Nakinia struck his staff into the ground every step, small sparks flying from the impact point. His sword swayed gently at his hip as he walked. He finally reached the gathering of his 'comrades,' he sneered inwardly as he looked around at them. None of them were his equal save perhaps the leader himself. Towards him Nakinia's expression changed into one of indifference and a slight hint of respect for the ancient warrior. "Nakinia Orbalan reporting in sir." He places special emphasis on his last name to try and show those around him that he was greater than most of them. 'Still' her thought to himself 'I wonder if any of these other immortals will be worthy of one such as me.'</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s>	<\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s>
<\|description\|>Lillian Ketzerin Imortale Prelitor Savantus Arms: 1x MNR REGALIA SMG Special EQ: Powerfist + melee weapon + requires 10 strenght but no skill since it's just punching things. + strong impact on direct hit, capeable of breaking trough armour + shatters bones completly, absolutly lethal to unarmoured targets + cumbersome and slow, might be discarded and retrieved later to have better manuveability + lowers atletic and acrobatic skill by 1 to a minimum of 0 psy-power: Molten Beam Flaming Form Healing Factor/Regeneration Stats: Str: 10 End: 5 Agil: 5 Psy: 10 Char: 5 Percep: 0 Int: 0 Skills: Melee: (10+50+25+25) =110 Ranged: (20) = 20 Heavy: (0+50) = 50 Leadership: (0+25) = 25 Acrobatics: (20+25) = 45 Survival: (20+25) = 45 Technology: (0) = 0 Arcane Knowledge:(30+50)= 80 Stealth: (0+25) = 25 Personality: Impulsive, anarchistic, has some problems with authority. Prefers small groups of comrades over serving in large armies and activly tries to avoid going with the masses, instead Lillian often chooses to side with outcasts. She is neither greedy nor selfless, she seems to choose to do things especially then, when it's the less favored side. However, she does accept that she can be wrong and generally tries not to hurt or kill anyone unless neccessary. On the Contrary, when provoked seems to go into an almost sadistic killing spree among those that she deems 'enemies'. Doesn't seem to have a strict Moral code when it comes to breaking laws. She tends to become loyal to people that she likes instead of people of power or authority. This doesn't mean that she cannot follow orders, but she will question them loudly and often laughs at superiors. She prefers to follow example instead of word.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna held back her surprise with a short gasp when the room filled with immense psychic energy, feeling the shuddering waves warping around the throne before he even signaled his arrival. It was an aura she had never before felt, crippling yet soft and warm. Truly, even though they called her a prodigy, she was like a meager candle held against a raging bonfire. She could only appreciate this fact with a slight nod of her head and a faint smile. To serve, to have purpose meant more to her than anything. When He finally appeared physically, in a flash of brilliant light, she was forced to go 'blind', as to prevent her senses from getting overwhelmed by the sheer power. The young Savantus was almost at a loss, and normally she would be, but Vienna had been prepared for this encounter for a long time now. Doing what she had rehearsed for hours into the mirror the night prior, she immediately dropped onto her knees and bowed, her body laying across the ground in a look of humility. "Hail, the great protector, the Immortal Emperor. With every ounce of my body and soul can offer, may our people prosper under your reign, my god and king." she called, word for word, what they had taught her to say.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera, whose daydreaming sent him to sleep quickly awoke at a mysterious sound and blinding light. Senera quickly got up and brought up his shield to protect his eyes from the light, and cursed himself for not buying a pair of sunglasses. The light began to talk. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me.", it said. Senera then took a deep breath and poked his head from behind the shield to gaze directly a the blinding light. It was bright and caused a great deal of damage to his retina, but he easily regenerated it. It was a magnificent sight. There, a great figure sat on the throne; undoubtedly the emperor. Senera was mesmerized by him. He had heard much about the Emperor, his heroics, kindness, power. Yet, seeing him, and feeling his power in person was a world of a difference. Senera stood there for a while gazing at him. After a while, Senera was able to tear his eyes off the Emperor and look at the men surrounding him. His guard stood around him, along with Zepheus and a few others near him. However, most of them were frowning at him. Senera didn't understand. What were they so upset about. He was just standing there and admiring the Emperor. Then the coin dropped. Standing! A quick look around the hall told Senera told his that he was the only one standing while everyone was kneeling with reverence to the Emperor. What's worse, he was still holding his shield at the Emperor. Senera quickly wore his shield on his back again, and kneeled, facing the dusty ground.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Whether my design, or through the restricted movement of his armour, Enoch is both the first to start kneeling and the last to finish kneeling. Even if - in the same way the Auxilia knew he would one day die and be replaced - this Emperor would eventually pass away and be forgotten through the unrelenting sands of time, as a new Emperor finds his throne. For the time being, he knew respect was demanded and it would be given no matter how difficult it would be. Such thoughts gave way to a metaphor for the mission ahead. No matter the difficulty, the Emperor's will shall be done.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia The Emperor sat for a moment in silence, then motioned for all to rise. "I have called you here, my warriors, to bring my wrath down upon those who would threaten our great Empire! The manufacturing world of Arnax has rebeled, their armies are up in arms, assaulting nearby loyalist worlds. I have already dispatched two full battalion of Marines to begin the siege of the traitorous world. You are to take a state of the art ship from my own personal stock... I want you to find the leader of the Rebellion, a powerful Psychic and aristocrat. Gaius Invictus, of the House Tyrius! My own blood, distant through many generation. this betrayal will not go unpunished... Now go, take the Feronia, my personal exploratory ship, my friend here will accompany you he motions to the silent figure by his side and kill the traitors!" He then suddenly vanished, fading from all detection in a mere instant. The Guards fled back behind the Throne without a word, disappearing from sight. The silent warrior remained, leading you to the docking bay of the great Imperial Spire, there you find a magnificent ship, ready and waiting. The docking bay is vast and cavernous, the great vaulted ceilings adorned lightly with murals of ancient spaceflight. The airlock is open, and the interior almost beckons you.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose looks around, and not seeing anyone else willing to step forward, enters the airlock, 'well come on comrades. Let's do this thing. Prove ourselves worthy of the Emperor's trust.' she finds her weapons in a weapons locker located in the airlock, and she equips her shield and sword</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz "It should not only be the Emperor's trust you seek at this time." Enoch grumbles, slowly following her inside, heeding the ship's calling. Beneath his helmet he lets a brief period of glee overcome him. He cannot begin to imagine the technological marvels within one of the Lord Emperor's prized vessels. He hoped the pilot was around to ask about the ship's specifications.</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf Veovulf stood guard at the opening of the ship, watching silently as the new recruits filed inside one by one. He knew the ship well, for he had first gained consciousness within that ship, like a child borne of machines, with the emperor to serve as his father, seeing his smiling face as he took his first steps in life, although at that time, his world was dark and meaningless for he had not yet truly awakened. Veovulf stepped in front of the large enoch, slightly overshadowing the young optima with his mechanized, bio-synthetic stature. "Mind the halls, Prelitor Optima: Enoch...some walls may not accommodate free movement within that issued powered armor, caution is advised." He stepped out of his way again, to allow him free entry, his voice deep and heavily synthesized, sounding as if two were speaking at once. A slight breeze picked up, whipping the black silks about on his body.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera follows the rest of the Imortale Prelitors onto the Feronia, and obtains his Katana; on which the words "七転び八起き (nanakorobi yaoki)" are engraved, and PX3 rifle from the weapons locker. "Everybody seems too bloody eager to get into the fighting. I wonder if they find death appealing." He thinks. He then finds a quiet corner and begins to check on the details of the mission on his data slate; Estimated enemy strength and numbers, defenses, loyalist strength, and numbers, etc... "Gaius Invictus. I wonder why he rebelled. Idiot....."</s>	<\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Lillian looks arround but fails at finding her locker. "I guess I'll have to punch him to death then." Seeing Veovulf and Enoch talk, she joins them, after all, maybe they know where her locker is.</s>
<\|description\|>Nakinia Orbalan If this is still open here is my take at a character. Rank: Imortale Prelitor Savantus Stats Strength: 3 Endurance: 3 Agility: 6 Psy Power: 10 Charisma: 3 Perception: 3 Intelligence: 7 Skills Melee: 15+15+30=60 Ranged Weapons: 15+10+40=65 Heavy Weapons: 15+15=30 Leadership: 35=35 Acrobatics: 30+20+20=70 Survival: 15+35+10=60 Technology: 15+35=50 Arcane Knowledge: 50+35+15=100 Stealth: 30=30 Psyonic Powers: Lightning: Shoot torrents of lightning at foes. Requirements: Arcane(30) Teleportation: Teleport short distances in an instant, overuse could lead to you fading from existence. Requirements: Arcane(50) Molten Beam: You can project gouts of pure flame from your hands, melting even metal. Requirements: Arcane(40) Life Drain: Drain the very life force from your foe, adding to your own. Requirements: Arcane(60) Telekinesis: Manipulation of objects with ones mind. Barriers. Requirements: Arcane(50) Weapons Primary:MAW-23 Battle Rifle: 4 round burst, 2.4 second wait between bursts. Variable Zoom scope, infrared. Requirements: Ranged(45) Secondary:MNR REGALIA SMG: Light plasma bolts fire at rapid pace (Orange). 1000 rounds per power pack. One handed. Requirements: Ranged(15) Melee:Fractal Edge Short sword Grenades: Tactical: 3x Smoke Special Equipment: Ceremonial Staff of Orbalan:Given to him by his father, and given to his father by his father's father, this staff has been passed down through generations of this great family. It allows the focusing of Psy powers with greater ease and allows their use more frequently. Personality: Nakinia is arrogant and uncaring of most of those around him. Being brought up in one of the most powerful clans has made him see most of those around him as lesser. He is uncaring of who his actions harm and what they result in as long as they benefit him or the empire. Despite this he tends to be incredibly protective of those he deems as friends and will do anything to protect them no matter the cost. Becoming friends with him is greatly difficult as he views most as unimportant and had experienced betrayal which makes him wary of those around him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus keeps his eye on the solemn woman with the covering over her eyes. A Savantus of great power and greater potential... But would she have what it takes to be a part of this team? That had yet to be seen. In all his long years of service, eight centuries of life, he had seen countless warriors and sages like the ones around him. They had been young, strong, and full of youth just as these men and women are. And they were all dead. Broken by conflicts past, the mighty armies of religious zealots, the nawing hunger of the Great Swarm, the mindless violence of the Walking War. He was one of the oldest Imortale Prelitor left alive, many the elders had been slain, so to many of the younger warriors, barely baptized in their first war. He would now lead a new generation of warriors, sages, maniacs, and kind souls to war, and all of its horrors. He turned to the Furia that had introduced herself, and was now speaking to the Savantus. He had seen recordings of her training, and was impressed. She would make a fine warrior if she survived long enough. He looked now at the Auxillia Optima before him. A heavy weapons expert and defensive/offensive fighter that could suit many a situation. He stood, waiting for the others to reveal themselves.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Without anyone else who appears to require him, Enoch chooses to stand parallel to Zepheus, on his right flank, and glares behind harsh yellow lenses at the other Prelitors who litter the room. Various mumblings sound from within his helmet; the tips of the fingers across his left hand tap rhythmically against his chestplate, dancing beneath his folded arms.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera approaches and bows in front of Zepheus, the leader of this operation. Then he walks away to a silent corner and sits down, and used his shield which is now strapped on his back as support as he reclines on the wall behind him. A few take notice and make a few snarky comments, but Senera's reclining comfortably, while they're still standing. Too much noise. He thinks to himself. He would love to get some shut eye but, he has no idea what's going to happen next so he just stays there, daydreaming about some situations that he read in his novels.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Lillian looks at Zepheus, as if measuring him herself, for a short moment - about the time it takes to blink two times, then she bows forward with a straight back, lowering her gaze to the floor. Some seconds later, she looks up without a single word and into face behind the helmet, awaiting his words.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus looks back at the Savantus, the glare of his eyeless helm lending to an aura of unnatural uneasiness. "Savantus, state your name." he commanded in a cool, but firm tone</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna winced upon hearing the words, shoulders pushing up tensely. Her head darted back and forth as her mind scrambled to refocus, the shape of the figure registering in the darkness. She really was too absorbed within her own worries she didn't even notice this new arrival. She turned to face the approaching woman with a half-smile, embarrassed by her own skittishness. "Ah... my, don't worry about me... I am just thinking..." she paused. 'Wait. What kind of answer was that, Vienna? Hurry, you still have time to explain yourself! Choose words. She's going to think you've a mental disorder, or worse...!' But try as she might, all that came of her mouth were befuddled 'umms' and 'ahhs'. Her grin quickly faltered as she started panicking at the inability to find any real words. It was like the thoughts in her mind were just flushed down a drain, leaving her with complete blanks. Seconds felt like minutes as she struggled internally, mouth pinched as she squirmed in her boots. Vienna wanted to just back away into a dark corner and just die of embarrassment. But she couldn't just let the kind gesture go to waste, especially when they first initiated the interaction. This was the first time someone approached her on their own. Usually it was the opposite. No one wanted to even step anywhere near the ticking psionic bomb. She probably didn't even know about her dangerous reputation, so that's why. But still, to her, it was the thought was what mattered the most. Despite being strangers, they went out of her way to offer help to her, without even being asked. It might seem trivial to anyone who was even marginally socially adequate, but to Vienna, this woman appeared truly noble. Wait. A stranger! That's right, before every conversation was an exchange of names. She immediately bowed her head, hoping she could hide the darkness settling in her cheeks, "A-ah... where are my manners? I-I am Vienna Marx Sorielus... it is a pleasure to have you acquaintance, dear sister-in-arms..." Vienna remained this way, both awaiting a response while trying her best to keep her heart still. Blood was rushing into her face, the added heat making it feel like she was being cooked alive. She could faint from this unbearable stress at any moment. Her hands were shaking, she could feel them. What would her instructors think if they saw her now? She didn't want to disappoint them after all they did for her, not after the promise she made to herself and all the others. She had finally been given a chance to prove herself. She cursed herself. How would she even handle such an important duty as being an Imortale Prelitor if she couldn't handle something as simple as this? She didn't dare allow her mind to imagine the response this person would have to her odd mannerisms. ...</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia stroke through the hall not even glancing at the myriad of people around him. He has finally taken his rightful place as an Immortal and no longer would he have to pretend to smile and make nice with the people around him. He could finally revel in what he truly loved. Blood and violence. For years he had trained to master his powers and, although not born a women, his physic powers had become incredibly powerful. Nakinia struck his staff into the ground every step, small sparks flying from the impact point. His sword swayed gently at his hip as he walked. He finally reached the gathering of his 'comrades,' he sneered inwardly as he looked around at them. None of them were his equal save perhaps the leader himself. Towards him Nakinia's expression changed into one of indifference and a slight hint of respect for the ancient warrior. "Nakinia Orbalan reporting in sir." He places special emphasis on his last name to try and show those around him that he was greater than most of them. 'Still' her thought to himself 'I wonder if any of these other immortals will be worthy of one such as me.'</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s>	<\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s>
<\|description\|>Veovulf Rank: Imortale Pretors Ceorcitor STATS Strength:5 Endurance:10 Agility:5 Psyonic Power:5 Charisma:0 Perception:5 Intelligence:5 SKILLS Melee:100 Ranged:25 Heavy:50 Leadership:25 Acrobatics:25+50=75 Survival:75+25=100 Technology:50 Arcane Knowledge:50+25=75 Stealth:25 abilities regen forewarning exalted blades: move set channeling energy into enhanced blade attacks. move subset: slash dash: surge forward with the exalted blade, slashing at anything in the way. exalted blade: manifest power into summoning the exalted blade, a blade of pure light energy capable of casting ranged energy slash attacks Weapons: MAW-P assult rifle MAW-P pistol</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia stroke through the hall not even glancing at the myriad of people around him. He has finally taken his rightful place as an Immortal and no longer would he have to pretend to smile and make nice with the people around him. He could finally revel in what he truly loved. Blood and violence. For years he had trained to master his powers and, although not born a women, his physic powers had become incredibly powerful. Nakinia struck his staff into the ground every step, small sparks flying from the impact point. His sword swayed gently at his hip as he walked. He finally reached the gathering of his 'comrades,' he sneered inwardly as he looked around at them. None of them were his equal save perhaps the leader himself. Towards him Nakinia's expression changed into one of indifference and a slight hint of respect for the ancient warrior. "Nakinia Orbalan reporting in sir." He places special emphasis on his last name to try and show those around him that he was greater than most of them. 'Still' her thought to himself 'I wonder if any of these other immortals will be worthy of one such as me.'</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her. Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus: "My Name is Lillian Ketzerin." Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice. The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Zepheus grins beneath his helm "Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..." he turned to Nakinia "Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared... The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me." his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all. Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne "Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever." [End of turn one, turn two begin]</s> <\|message\|>Veovulf The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else. He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.</s> <\|message\|>Lillian Ketzerin Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing. Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.</s> <\|message\|>Nakinia Orbalan Nakinia did not even hesitate as the great emperor appeared in front of him, he knelt. Though they were both of the great houses there could not be more of a difference between both their houses and themselves and the power the emperor held demanded obeisance. Nakinia did not dare to look at the emperor the importance of obeying the emperor drilled into his mind during his childhood. The aura that radiated from the emperor only served to increase the awe that Nakinia already felt.</s> <\|message\|>Vienna Marx Sorielus Vienna held back her surprise with a short gasp when the room filled with immense psychic energy, feeling the shuddering waves warping around the throne before he even signaled his arrival. It was an aura she had never before felt, crippling yet soft and warm. Truly, even though they called her a prodigy, she was like a meager candle held against a raging bonfire. She could only appreciate this fact with a slight nod of her head and a faint smile. To serve, to have purpose meant more to her than anything. When He finally appeared physically, in a flash of brilliant light, she was forced to go 'blind', as to prevent her senses from getting overwhelmed by the sheer power. The young Savantus was almost at a loss, and normally she would be, but Vienna had been prepared for this encounter for a long time now. Doing what she had rehearsed for hours into the mirror the night prior, she immediately dropped onto her knees and bowed, her body laying across the ground in a look of humility. "Hail, the great protector, the Immortal Emperor. With every ounce of my body and soul can offer, may our people prosper under your reign, my god and king." she called, word for word, what they had taught her to say.</s> <\|message\|>Senera Fernando Senera, whose daydreaming sent him to sleep quickly awoke at a mysterious sound and blinding light. Senera quickly got up and brought up his shield to protect his eyes from the light, and cursed himself for not buying a pair of sunglasses. The light began to talk. "Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me.", it said. Senera then took a deep breath and poked his head from behind the shield to gaze directly a the blinding light. It was bright and caused a great deal of damage to his retina, but he easily regenerated it. It was a magnificent sight. There, a great figure sat on the throne; undoubtedly the emperor. Senera was mesmerized by him. He had heard much about the Emperor, his heroics, kindness, power. Yet, seeing him, and feeling his power in person was a world of a difference. Senera stood there for a while gazing at him. After a while, Senera was able to tear his eyes off the Emperor and look at the men surrounding him. His guard stood around him, along with Zepheus and a few others near him. However, most of them were frowning at him. Senera didn't understand. What were they so upset about. He was just standing there and admiring the Emperor. Then the coin dropped. Standing! A quick look around the hall told Senera told his that he was the only one standing while everyone was kneeling with reverence to the Emperor. What's worse, he was still holding his shield at the Emperor. Senera quickly wore his shield on his back again, and kneeled, facing the dusty ground.</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz Whether my design, or through the restricted movement of his armour, Enoch is both the first to start kneeling and the last to finish kneeling. Even if - in the same way the Auxilia knew he would one day die and be replaced - this Emperor would eventually pass away and be forgotten through the unrelenting sands of time, as a new Emperor finds his throne. For the time being, he knew respect was demanded and it would be given no matter how difficult it would be. Such thoughts gave way to a metaphor for the mission ahead. No matter the difficulty, the Emperor's will shall be done.</s> <\|message\|>Zepheus Synia The Emperor sat for a moment in silence, then motioned for all to rise. "I have called you here, my warriors, to bring my wrath down upon those who would threaten our great Empire! The manufacturing world of Arnax has rebeled, their armies are up in arms, assaulting nearby loyalist worlds. I have already dispatched two full battalion of Marines to begin the siege of the traitorous world. You are to take a state of the art ship from my own personal stock... I want you to find the leader of the Rebellion, a powerful Psychic and aristocrat. Gaius Invictus, of the House Tyrius! My own blood, distant through many generation. this betrayal will not go unpunished... Now go, take the Feronia, my personal exploratory ship, my friend here will accompany you he motions to the silent figure by his side and kill the traitors!" He then suddenly vanished, fading from all detection in a mere instant. The Guards fled back behind the Throne without a word, disappearing from sight. The silent warrior remained, leading you to the docking bay of the great Imperial Spire, there you find a magnificent ship, ready and waiting. The docking bay is vast and cavernous, the great vaulted ceilings adorned lightly with murals of ancient spaceflight. The airlock is open, and the interior almost beckons you.</s> <\|message\|>Rose Iris Rose looks around, and not seeing anyone else willing to step forward, enters the airlock, 'well come on comrades. Let's do this thing. Prove ourselves worthy of the Emperor's trust.' she finds her weapons in a weapons locker located in the airlock, and she equips her shield and sword</s> <\|message\|>Enoch Kenz "It should not only be the Emperor's trust you seek at this time." Enoch grumbles, slowly following her inside, heeding the ship's calling. Beneath his helmet he lets a brief period of glee overcome him. He cannot begin to imagine the technological marvels within one of the Lord Emperor's prized vessels. He hoped the pilot was around to ask about the ship's specifications.</s>	<\|message\|>Veovulf Veovulf stood guard at the opening of the ship, watching silently as the new recruits filed inside one by one. He knew the ship well, for he had first gained consciousness within that ship, like a child borne of machines, with the emperor to serve as his father, seeing his smiling face as he took his first steps in life, although at that time, his world was dark and meaningless for he had not yet truly awakened. Veovulf stepped in front of the large enoch, slightly overshadowing the young optima with his mechanized, bio-synthetic stature. "Mind the halls, Prelitor Optima: Enoch...some walls may not accommodate free movement within that issued powered armor, caution is advised." He stepped out of his way again, to allow him free entry, his voice deep and heavily synthesized, sounding as if two were speaking at once. A slight breeze picked up, whipping the black silks about on his body.</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Tōnan Gyakuten --- It was a somewhat dreary afternoon. It wasn't raining, but the weather hadn't been predicted to be particularly pleasant. It didn't take some trained professional to be able to tell that there was going to be rain today. The dark clouds, the heavy air, even that strange smell that permeated the atmosphere, it all spoke of a storm. Toshiko lit a cigarette, and inhaled. The smoke rushed in, and she took the cigarette from her mouth and blew it out. She raised an eyebrow at the paper before her. She'd received the phone call, and then a fax. The family seemed quite desperate to retrieve what had been taken... To say nothing of what had been stolen, the circumstances were curious. The room wasn't so much a room as a heavily-protected vault, yet nothing had been destroyed. The walls were intact, so was the door... and it was tightly locked. The spells in place to protect the item were still intact, or at least that's what the family believed. There was no sign of... well, anything, really, as far as the family had been able to tell. The only difference in the entire house was that the stolen item was missing. Toshiko took another drag on her cigarette, and blew the smoke out. This... this was, to begin with, an undeniably supernatural case. And the family was quite willing to pay very well... To be honest, Toshiko currently found herself utterly without any spending money. A well-paying case, a curious case like this... Her employee would be downstairs by now, or at least on their way to the agency. It was time to speak to them about this case. Getting to her feet, Toshiko walked through her dimly-lit office, passing stacks of paper and the single old television. She walked to the door and pulled it open, before beginning to head downstairs. It was time to solve a theft.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Downstairs, the agency's current sole employee was lounging on a saggy and faded couch, bare legs draped over one armrest. Its out of the way spot was perfect for Ryuuko's uses: good sight of the staircase if Toshiko came down, a sight of the door should some customer miraculously find the building, and in a straight line from a window. Even in her brief time here so far, the beaten-up couch had shown to be a wonderfully warm spot on a sunny day. Entirely unlike today. The thick air spoke of rain and a grey pallor hung over everything. The heiress had turned on the lights, and resolved once again to get a better lampshade for Toshiko's seemingly endless supply of incandescent bulbs, before taking her usual spot and reading through everything she'd so far learned about the way magic worked. It wasn't very encouraging reading, at least with her affinity in mind: all the simple demonstrations seemed to involve actively doing something. From the get-go, she was disadvantaged in even doing that. No lighting a candle, no breeze through the hair... not without more work. She sighed, putting the binder aside and falling back. A sound from the stairs caught Ryuuko's attention and she sat up again, looking in Toshiko's direction, "Tea? You're earlier than normal."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko paused for only a moment when she saw the girl lying on her couch. Ah, her... currently single employee, and rather ironically part of an organized crime family. However, that was not the sort of crime that the redheaded mage had formed this agency in order to counteract. Besides, she was hardly about to protest at being employed to teach someone magic, especially if it allowed her to have assistance on cases. She eyed the tea for only a moment before responding. "I think I'd enjoy a cup of tea," she said, simply, before putting her cigarette in her mouth and taking another long drag. After a moment, she took it out, and the smoke curled into the air. Ah, such a grey, dreary day... not at all reflective of the relative optimism that had risen in the woman's heart. After all, she had a case, at last. Funds were running particularly thin... "But aside from that," she continued, raising the case file, "We've got a new case. They've been in contact since last night. It's a theft, and they're pretty eager to get us down there." She offered the file to the yakuza princess.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Certain parts of Toshiko were more notable than others but they were quickly ignored through a veil of professionalism. Reading the same things so much was boring, even if it had the potential to reshape her skills entirely. Even the ritual of making tea, brought from a fine art to a simple, crass process of making a drink, was a welcome respite from trying to work out the "simplest expression of your affinity": what was simple about an absence? Ryuuko swung her legs off the couch and set the water to boil, smoothing down today's simpler, green kimono whilst waiting. They had a case? That was a welcome development, since she'd always expected a detective agency to be more interesting. The gaps between cases were certainly teaching her a childhood's worth of lessons on being lazy. It was almost disappointing that it was only a theft... The detective offered her a file whilst the tea was starting to brew and she glanced through it, noting the oddities. She placed it on a table before removing the leaves and handing the cup over, then looked again in more detail. Stolen without a trace... "If the security was defeated without being disabled, then only someone who knew the security intimately could be responsible. I expect a family member or someone in their employ, as no spy with enough skill would lower themselves to mere thievery," the heiress stated, her own cup clasped between two hands.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko took a sip of her tea, and decided to elaborate a bit more on some matters that the case file didn't exactly clarify. "Now, I'm not sure if you're aware of the history of the Daidouji family, but I'll give a quick rundown just in case you're not. The Daidouji Mage family has splintered into many, many branches. Every single last one of these branches hates the other. And when I say hates, I mean backstabbing and murder aren't out of the realm of possibility when it comes to one branch to another. Our suspect may be the member of another branch," she explained. It was certainly the case. Toshiko had once met one of the Daidouji heirs. She was a gorgeous girl, short, deep black hair. She had told Toshiko her ultimate goal was to kill her uncle, who had apparently stolen her mother's magic grimoire. She didn't know if the girl had succeeded, but regardless of if she had or not it was rather clear to Toshiko what kind of family she was dealing with. The fierce rivalries between each of the branches had only grown more and more violent as time went on. Ah, such was the Daidouji. "Your guess at the perpetrator being a family member is hardly an unlikely one," she concluded, taking another sip of tea.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko's eyes narrowed as the family was described. Old enough to have splintered repeatedly and yet every branch was claiming equal importance... yet owing none of the loyalty to one another that such a description would suggest. To her, someone that placed her family's wishes before anything else, such a self-interested approach to the rest of one's relatives was abhorrent. Well, maybe the Miura's lack of fragmentation helped--for instance, she had no siblings--but to intentionally set out to kill one another as a matter of course... This wasn't her detective agency, however, and dealing with unsavoury sorts was part of her education. No matter that such a group offended her sensibilities, Ryuuko would stomach them for the sake of their contract. If any information might present itself that might aid her father... well, she'd ask Toshiko when the time came. The girl took another drink of the cooling tea, looking once more at her teacher: "If this family cannot trust their kin, I hope that we shall not rely on their hospitality. I will be bringing my sword but there is little I can do against magic."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Trust their kin? My, the prospect of that was... interesting. Toshiko's own family had once attempted to murder her, simply because she rejected what she saw as a fool's errand. Even now, as her sister's efforts had cooled their rage, they still sought to punish her for what they saw as a betrayal. Even her sister thought she needed some kind of punishment... and for what? It wasn't as if she was the one who had been cheated out of learning ancient magic from the time of Babylon. It wasn't as if she was the one who continued to believe in an impossibility. Humans could quite simply no longer obtain the Origin of All. That bloody ritual that promised the origin to the one who claimed the white night was nothing less then the act of fools. Toshiko took another sip of tea. "It's not as if I'm unfamiliar with an untrustworthy family," the redheaded woman commented, simply, in an off-hand fashion, "In any case, we should probably get moving. The sooner we reach them and solve this case, the sooner we can get paid."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The swordswoman set aside her remaining tea and began preparing to go out. It wouldn't make sense to visit a crime scene unarmed and unshod, and she always made sure to have another knife as backup in case things got out of hand. Most people would let their guard down if they saw someone visibly disarmed, no matter how supernatural. It was as she was picking up the sword, now properly dressed for going outdoors--not that the addition of socks was really that large of a change--that the inevitable downside of Toshiko deciding 'the sooner we reach them' reared its head. Particularly because speed was not of the essence to Ryuuko, as the money made no difference to her... "Ah, Toshiko-san, could you possibly allow me to drive?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ah?" As Toshiko headed for the door, she glanced back over her shoulder. Ryuuko wanted to drive? Why was that? After all, Toshiko felt that she always made incredibly decent time when driving. They always arrived far under the projected time of arrival, didn't they? Of course. So what was the reason for Ryuuko had for wanting to drive? "Why do you ask, Ryuuko-kun?" Toshiko answered the question with one of her own.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It amazed Ryuuko that Toshiko couldn't see how bad her driving was. Even magi didn't seem to be so insular that "everyone else in the world considers doing it that badly to be a terrible idea" and yet Toshiko had gained a car and used it for years without the slightest bit of trouble. More than her magical abilities, it was her ability to get away with such driving that was truly frightening. But that couldn't be said to her face. "I believe that we might make a better impression if we arrive in less of a visible hurry." And if she didn't arrive suppressing the urge to throw up.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko was rather quick with a counterpoint of her own. "Ah, but if it looks like we just took our time, wouldn't that make the clients believe we aren't taking things seriously?" she asked. Toshiko was, in general, rather pleased with her driving abilities. She never hit anything, she didn't think anyone was in danger, and the police never got after her. All in all, it was pretty good for someone with no driver's licence who had never taken a single lesson. Self-taught driving was just as good as anything else, right?</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The swordswoman set aside her remaining tea and began preparing to go out. It wouldn't make sense to visit a crime scene unarmed and unshod, and she always made sure to have another knife as backup in case things got out of hand. Most people would let their guard down if they saw someone visibly disarmed, no matter how supernatural. It was as she was picking up the sword, now properly dressed for going outdoors--not that the addition of socks was really that large of a change--that the inevitable downside of Toshiko deciding 'the sooner we reach them' reared its head. Particularly because speed was not of the essence to Ryuuko, as the money made no difference to her... "Ah, Toshiko-san, could you possibly allow me to drive?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ah?" As Toshiko headed for the door, she glanced back over her shoulder. Ryuuko wanted to drive? Why was that? After all, Toshiko felt that she always made incredibly decent time when driving. They always arrived far under the projected time of arrival, didn't they? Of course. So what was the reason for Ryuuko had for wanting to drive? "Why do you ask, Ryuuko-kun?" Toshiko answered the question with one of her own.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It amazed Ryuuko that Toshiko couldn't see how bad her driving was. Even magi didn't seem to be so insular that "everyone else in the world considers doing it that badly to be a terrible idea" and yet Toshiko had gained a car and used it for years without the slightest bit of trouble. More than her magical abilities, it was her ability to get away with such driving that was truly frightening. But that couldn't be said to her face. "I believe that we might make a better impression if we arrive in less of a visible hurry." And if she didn't arrive suppressing the urge to throw up.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko was rather quick with a counterpoint of her own. "Ah, but if it looks like we just took our time, wouldn't that make the clients believe we aren't taking things seriously?" she asked. Toshiko was, in general, rather pleased with her driving abilities. She never hit anything, she didn't think anyone was in danger, and the police never got after her. All in all, it was pretty good for someone with no driver's licence who had never taken a single lesson. Self-taught driving was just as good as anything else, right?</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Such a counter-argument was easily dismissed: "Arriving within a time obeying all speed limits would have us looking punctual. Rushing would make us appear desperate whilst costing more in fuel." Maybe the monetary argument would sway Toshiko into letting someone else drive for once? Looking up to see near miss after near miss... if she could find where Toshiko's keys were kept, she would have tried to bribe or blackmail her employer into taking proper lessons.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko was about to protest... but then she paused for a moment. To be honest, it was hard to argue with that logic. While speedy driving that the redheaded mage preferred was efficient, it did burn more fuel... and at the moment, Toshiko's funds were remarkably thin. That crystal ball had cost a lot for something that turned out to be a total dud... Therefore, doing something that would save them money would help a lot. But the concern about the possibility of being seen as not taking it seriously still worried her... however, desperation was another thing to consider... "You have a point there," she said, simply, "I'd like to avoid spending too much money right now... but I'm still worried about seeming like we're not taking this seriously."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "How would it seem that we're not taking it seriously if we arrive as soon as reasonably possible? Even police forces can take longer to respond to reports of theft," the heiress stated, glad that she'd found some chink in Toshiko's desire to drive there at hair-raising speeds. "If I drive, you can explain what the magical protections are that might have been bypassed. Being distracted in control of a high-speed vehicle could be costly in more ways than fuel."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko After a few moments of silence, Toshiko sighed. Yes, there was a lot of logic in that statement... and the mage's biggest concern, the money, weighed rather heavily on her mind. In the end, it was quite simply a fact that she could not deny. It would take less money to go more slowly, no matter how much she wanted to drive as quickly as she possibly could to get there. "Fine, Ryuuko-kun," relented the woman, at last, "I'll let you drive just this once."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Without even a second's delay, the purple-haired swordswoman held out one hand expectantly: "Keys." Toshiko had relented, so she wasn't going to wait on her to unlock everything. Aside from being demeaning, Ryuuko couldn't shake the feeling that the mage would change her mind once in the car and undo the brief effort. Besides, she did want some idea of the potentially bypassed protections instead of acting as a complete novice on arrival...</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko After a fair amount of hesitation, Toshiko finally handed over the keys. She had almost changed her mind in those few moments, but at last she handed over the keys. It was with great reluctance, after all.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Graciously taking the keys, Ryuuko lead the way outside and to the car... wondering once again how Toshiko had so few dents on its red paintwork with the way she drove. Thankfully, the saloon wasn't a sports model or brand new, since with her employer's driving there was even more a guarantee that she'd hit something unexpected... Once the car was open and the younger of the two seated firmly in the driver's seat, not forgetting the seatbelt, she waited for the detective to get in as well. Fortunately, she didn't need directions: the file had included the location of the crime and she'd made sure to learn the local area pretty well when she'd joined the agency. It would be no good to not know where any jobs the agency was hired for were going to happen.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "I don't think I need to tell you the directions since you know the area and you read the file," said Toshiko as she climbed in and belted herself into the front passenger seat. For a few moments, her eyes almost mournfully lingered on the keys, but she was quick to look away. "Besides, it's not as if it's really likely that you'll simply miss the Daidouji mansion." Really, it wasn't as if there was a wealth of old, stately, western-style mansions around the city. It was only natural that a building like the Daidouji mansion stood out rather clearly given its location. That being said, someone entirely unfamiliar with the area would probably have had some trouble getting to it. But that wasn't a concern today.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Silence reigned aside from the humming of the engine. For once in a blue moon, Toshiko's car was being driven with all due respect to the law--and not pushing its components to their absolute limit. It wouldn't be long before the tires needed replacing, as well as the brakes... let alone all the essential maintenance running a car nearly as old as either of them entailed before you decided to push it as much as possible. Ryuuko suspected magic was involved, though Toshiko didn't seem that knowledgeable about mechanics... After a few minutes, she started the conversation again: "What protections could mages use against theft? Onmyoudo is traditionally used for barriers and protection even without real magic. Though not in the sense of stopping thieves..."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Well, there's quite a few different options," Toshiko began, without a moment's pause. After all, defensive spells were something any self-respecting mage should have a good working knowledge of. "The most obvious of these is to use barriers that project a physical 'wall' that can block things from passing through it. Enough power can break something like this, but according to the file there was no sign of any sort of attack. So, it's rather unlikely that any barriers were damaged, if they were present. The same goes for field spells that would achieve a similar effect." Toshiko paused to take another drag on her cigarette, the window rolled down to let the smoke out as she exhaled. "There could also be field spells that cause a specific effect on those that enter them," she continued, "The most advanced of these are known as closed spaces, and are effectively a magically enclosed space that affords the one projecting it certain advantages. However, there doesn't seem to have been one in place here. Runes, however, are very likely to have been in place." Another pause for another drag on the cigarette. "Runes are basically a way of storing a spell, and then triggering it. They can be inscribed on paper or even carved into a surface, or written with chalk," she added, "Similar methods can be used to create circles that trap intruders or do any number of different things. There were probably wards in place, too, to detect if there was anyone who wasn't permitted to be on the premises." Toshiko paused for a moment. "Anything else?"</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Is there a range limitation to runes? Someone with the permission to be there and knowledge of the defences could take an unorthodox entrance like the roof and bypass the defences that way," Ryuuko wondered, doing her best to memorise the magical information whilst translating it into more mundane terminology. Barriers presented an analogy to walls and doors themselves, simply improved, and area wards had a similarity to biometric identification or even simply cameras. Runes of a limited range could represent even more focused cameras... or traps triggered around them, perhaps the patrols of guards. The heiress pulled away from the red light, considering where a flaw could be. The important thing was to work out if magic innately protected against unexpected methods of entry. The floor and ceiling when you had up to date plans of the building would be easily exploited if not covered for. Even a few good protections around the target with a mage able to break them were meaningless if the alarms were silenced and the outer defences skipped.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "A limitation on range largely depends on the spell being used with the rune," replied Toshiko, leaning back in her seat. "Though it's unlikely they would have much range outside of the room they've been placed in, if they're placed indoors." She considered this fact for a moment. From the roof... that wasn't an impossible proposal. However, it was reliant on the Daidouji family also failing to consider that possibility. And, well, if they were anything like what she expected, well... "It's not impossible they didn't mark everything," she began, "But the Daidouji probably considered that fact already. Still, it's worth checking out once we get there."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Do you think that they will have disabled the defences for us?" she asked, not wanting to contend with automated magical defences with the entirety of her magical ability coming down to 'make herself slightly tougher'. Where did you even start to go about neutralising these things with nothing more than a sword? But if the defences were down, then anyone with knowledge and access could take them apart and restore them... which made the prospect of an inside job seem all the more likely.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "... I would assume they will have," replied Toshiko, after a moment's pause. At least, she hoped so. She could never be certain how paranoid a client would be, to be entirely honest, and when it came to someone like the Daidouji family, well... there was no real question of how dangerous that sort of thing could be. But at the same time, they had hired them willingly. So it could be assumed they would rather not risk harming the people they'd asked to help. Besides, Toshiko would be... irritated if something like that occurred. The Daidouji mansion was a large, stately building. It was mostly dark wood, a vast western-style building as opposed to any eastern designs. The windows were thin and tall, and the mansion itself was a huge building. It was quite clear that the Daidouji family was very, very rich. And it rather quickly came into view, not much of a distance from Toshiko's detective agency. "We're here," Toshiko said, simply, pointing to the mansion.</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Oh, Miura-san!" Daidouji Yuuno nodded confidently that the introduction. Toshiko could surmise the girl had heard of the Miura family before, given they were another local mage family. Mage families were often aware of those with relatively high standings, and the Miura's rather unique situation perhaps posed for more awareness then was otherwise usual. "Right, right! You want to check out the scene of the theft, right?" The girl was rather chipper, for someone whose family had so recently suffered a serious threat. Perhaps she was just optimistic in the face of hardship? Or did she not really realize the gravity of the situation? Regardless of the explanation, Toshiko couldn't help but notice that the girl was rather cute. "It's pretty annoying, they didn't even set off the spells I set up!" complained Yuuno, pouting as she turned on her heel to lead them out of the room and towards the scene of the crime. "What were the spells you set up?" asked Toshiko as she followed along. "Ah? Oh, just a couple," Yuuno replied brightly, "My family's affinity is Destruction, so it was a set of runes that would atomize the bodypart closest to them and one that made their heart explode!" Toshiko nodded. Those spells were relatively complex, but for a competent student not impossible to handle for a stationary spell tied to a rune. Still, it was relatively impressive given the Daidouji girl's age. "You're quite accomplished for your age." "Thanks!"</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It was quite disturbing to hear words like that out of a younger girl's mouth, though not as much as it would have been for somebody unused to the more unsavoury sides of life. It was more the fervent cheerfulness with which she had declared creating such destructive spells: taking pleasure in slaughter was unseemly and the spells were unnecessarily deadly. Why would you, with magic, destroy instant death defences rather than incapacitation? It was wasteful to not know who was targeting you. Maybe this was why they had been stolen from: killing anyone that might have been able to let the Daidouji know what was going to happen. "Are the other defences of a similarly dangerous nature?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ah? Well... it depends!" replied Yuuno brightly, "I got to put spells that are pretty far in, for someone who's pretty nasty and might have hurt some of our maids getting there. It'd be dumb to put the spells that kill people out further, right?" Toshiko shrugged. It depended largely on what your goals were when it came to how lethal you made a trap. "My mother placed one of the earliest ones. It just makes you think you're in the wrong place and need to go to another place in the mansion," Yuuno continued as she lead the detective and her employee further down the hall. As they went, it was hard not to notice the number of maids keeping an eye on them rather closely, and many of them keeping an eye on the daughter of the Daidouji family as well. "The further they get, the more dangerous the spells are. I placed some of the last ones, because by that point they're probably going to have killed someone getting there. I don't know all those less flashy spells yet." The girl waved her hand rather dismissively. "You know, those 'less flashy spells' are pretty useful," Toshiko responded, her voice rather level. It was kind of obvious, by the girl's attitude, that she was infatuated with the more active and deadly side of magic. But wards and other less dangerous spells were quite useful. Fu Sonzai no Genso itself was surrounded by a field that made anyone without a usable supply of mana incapable of seeing or interacting with it. That was quite the opposite of flashy. "Setting up traps that don't kill can be pretty useful too." The girl shrugged. "It's not like I don't know that," replied Yuuno, "But if they've hurt some of our maids, they're unforgivable, aren't they?" The black-haired young girl paused for a moment. "Only... they didn't hurt anybody or trigger any of the defenses..."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko had to disagree with the assessment that you put more lethal traps deeper in simply because that was where they were likely to have harmed or killed someone with loyalty to your family. That seemed like the obvious place to put the nasty but not fatal defences. If you didn't teach your enemies that clandestine attempts to harm your family would be meet with extreme retribution, why would they ever stop trying? The information angle was still relevant if they penetrated so far, as well... The sound of that first defence and the lack of triggering raised an interesting possibility. There was no reason for anyone to interfere with the library defences... but if they hadn't meant to end up in the library in the first place... "Could the misdirection ward have sent someone to the library?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "... Hmm." Yuuno looked thoughtful for a few moments. Toshiko suspected she didn't know, but Ryuuko raised an interesting possibility. However, it relied on the ward having been triggered in the first place. "From what we've heard, Ryuuko-kun, it doesn't seem like any defenses were triggered, including those wards," Toshiko interjected. "However, if they somehow refreshed the activated ward... it's not like it's not impossible. But still, it's a possibility to keep in mind." Yuuno shrugged, and lead them further. And soon enough... "Here it is!" declared the girl. Ahead stretched a long hallway, seemingly empty and without windows. Hands in her pockets, Toshiko strode forward. Indeed, even with the spells inactive as they were, Toshiko could discern some of the more obvious defenses. It was easy to assume most of them were rather more thoroughly hidden. "... Incidentally," Toshiko began, turning to face Yuuno, "What's the outside of this hallway like?" "Oh? One of the walls is open to the outside, but it's reinforced and there's no windows. You'd need a lot of power to get through it, and it's not damaged at all!" "Hmm..." The redheaded mage looked around. Perhaps there was... something more complicated at work here... checking the walls seemed like a good start.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The defences weren't triggered, the exterior was an impenetrable wall... and to have triggered the library ward after activating the defences would have meant resetting them. Presumably, then, someone who could have pulled off hiding their tracks that well would have fixed the library barrier before even getting around to this one. Or was it an unrelated incident, or even something meant to throw them off their trail? "Which wall is the exterior?" the Yakuza heir questioned, stepping forwards into the corridor and looking for anything that seemed out of place in a more mundane manner. She might not have the skill to detect magical anomalies yet, but somewhere more damaged or disturbed than another point, or a region strangely free of dust if the place was regularly cleaned... she could look at that. Though with no trace at all, another possibility came to mind... "Might we be looking at a 'phantom thief'? Could someone have magic to pass through physical barriers undetected, or could ghosts do so?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Yuuno pointed, quickly, to the right hand side of the hallway when asked about the exterior. "It's not impossible that they could be using some strange method to bypass the security," Toshiko responded. There was a wide variety of spells for an enormous amount of magical affinities, all developed by magi all over the world for so many different purposes. Certainly, there could be some methods that would prove to be useful at bypassing these spells. But so perfectly, and all of them... certainly, something was amiss. "As for a ghost, it's possible, but a ghost would still be effected by the defenses. Toshiko followed Ryuuko, investigating the hallway. As Ryuuko looked over the walls, she might notice what looked like a scrap of paper attached to one...</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Are ghosts common enough that defences against them would be employed as a matter of course?" Ryuuko wondered, homing in on something out of place in the otherwise immaculate, but empty when compared with the rest of the house, corridor. Paper? No, more than paper--it was only a fragment but the hints of its original shape and the characters on one side were more than enough. "Master, it seems that the infiltrator is an onmyouji or styling themselves as one. "Unless your family would use ofuda in their defences, of course, Yuuno-san."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Mental defenses, at least, would affect a ghost capable of coherent thought," replied Toshiko, approached Ryuuko as her apprentice made a beeline for something on the wall. Ghosts were beings with human thought patterns, and as a result spells designed to effect those thought patterns would still effect them. Even if they didn't set off the more physical defenses, the ones targeting the mind would still be able to detect them. When Ryuuko discovered that scrap of paper, however... "You're certainly right, Ryuuko-kun," she commented, eyes travelling over the piece of paper. There was no denying what it appeared to be, it was definitely a piece of ofuda. That was only something that an onmyouji would use. Yuuno stared for a few moments. "Ehhh? There's... we never use ofuda!" the smallish girl exclaimed, "That's not how a proper magi does magic!" As Toshiko glanced down the wall, she noticed spots on the wall that seemed slightly... scuffed? As if something had been attached to them... "... Oi, Yuuno-chan," Toshiko said, turning towards the girl, "Is there any way that these spells could be disrupted without direct magical interference?" Yuuno paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "... I guess if the pattern was interrupted, but that's tied to the walls, and the walls are still there..."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Not how a proper magi does magic? Sometimes, the attitude of western-style magi to to onmyoudo irked Ryuuko: why did they insist on treating their own country's magical style as some secondary and inferior art. As far as she and her family were concerned, it was nothing more than one style, even if a heavily specialised one, that their affinities tended to work poorly with. But unlike alchemy, there was enough similarity with the magical mainstream that they should really approach it as something less exotic... That onmyoudo could interfere with defences like this was a prime example of why. "Might it be possible that a charm could match the defences from the outside and then insert it in place before temporarily disrupting them? Onmyoudo is almost a specialisation in the application of barriers."</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "It's not impossible..." Toshiko frowned as she looked down the wall. Unfortunately, not enough of the ofuda remained to determine what the spell may have been. Whatever the case was, it looked like quite a few of them had been deployed, up and down the wall... And all but this one had been completely removed. It was a shame, if some others had been left behind they may have been able to piece together exactly what spells were being utilized here. But at the moment, there was no way to be certain what was going on. "... Yuuno-chan, was there anything unusual in the library when your family found out that the barrier had been disrupted there, or do you not know?" Toshiko asked. Perhaps something that happened here had somehow caused the barrier to fail? "... There was some white dust? That's about it," Yuuno said, after some thought, with a shrug. "Since nothing was taken or changed there, we didn't look into it too much!" "Hmmm..." Toshiko turned to face the wall once more. Oddly enough, there seemed to be some... damaged plaster on one of the walls?</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "... I think we may have hit upon exactly what happened, though it's not what you think it is, Ryuuko-kun," said Toshiko, finally, turning away from the wall. Funnily enough, it was what the girl had said that had finally put two and two together in the redheaded mage's mind. If her guess was true, that also meant that this did narrow down who may have done this. At the very least, they knew what kind of abilities they were dealing with. "You're well aware that one of the affinities for magic is air, correct?" Taking the scrap of paper in her hand once more, she looked it over. "One of varieties of spells traditionally associated with air is known as displacement. It allows the caster to move an object without 'severing' it from its location. For example, you could cut a table in half with this spell, but upon restoring it the table would be one solid object once again. You could even transport limbs and other body parts and still have full control over them when you do so." Scanning the wall once more, eyeing the spot the paper had been taken from, she continued. "If I'm correct, they may have displaced this wall in segments to disrupt the defences, then replaced it when they were finished. See how they evenly spaced the ofuda?" Toshiko gestured to the evenly-spaced spots where it looked like something had been attached. There were marks of how the charms had burned away from their use, even. "But one of the walls went to the wrong place, breaking the library barrier and becoming lightly damaged in the process."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "So they moved the wall and used that to bypass or disrupt the defences," Ryuuko said, following the logic. Well, the logic that existed in something inherently magical that allowed connections to remain despite objects being in an entirely different area or cut into pieces, "But is this really enough of a clue for us to find out the one behind the theft?" By this point, Yuuno was pretty superfluous--except for keeping an eye on her to see if she reacted unusually to any of the mentioned terms. Toshiko had made it clear that anyone could be a suspect in a family like this, even if the methods employed would seem to rule them out...</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "It's enough to give us some clues on our perpetrators' methodology," replied Toshiko, looking back down the hall. It was fairly clear to her that they were dealing with someone who had done this before, knowing where to place the ofuda to avoid magical reprisal and still move the walls to a different location wasn't something an unskilled amateur would be capable of doing. Or, for that matter, a first-time thief. And indeed, it ruled out a member of the Daidouji family being responsible for bypassing the defense spells, at least. After all, the Daidouji didn't practice onmyodo. "Given the Daidouji's habits, we can determine that they weren't responsible for breaching the defenses, at least." It was at this point that Yuuno chimed in. "I don't understand it, but don't you want to see where the vase was?" she asked, walking ahead and looking back at the detective and her employee. "Ah, of course, Yuuno-chan," replied Tokyo. Really, the young Daidouji girl was quite cute. With that, she proceeded onward, and Toshiko followed. It wasn't much longer before they reached the room in which the vase was held. It was circular, with a pedestal in the center upon which a glass case sat. Right now, it was empty.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko So instead of being able to isolate some actual thief, they could just rule out a family member performing the actual theft. It helped that there was more to go on in terms of what clues might be around--paper where it shouldn't be or some measure of misplaced damage--but any actual indications as to who might have made off with the vase... The "how" answered itself when it came to escaping with what was doubtless a rather cumbersome item: take the exact same way of removing it that had been chosen with the wall. Or keep reapplying the same trick in reverse. Nevertheless, along with Toshiko, Ryuuko wished to see the scene of the crime rather than the approach to it. "Daidouji-san, was the case protected against being displaced in some manner? It seems unlikely to me that your defences were constructed to be defeated by a single skill."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Any attempt to touch the case would have made anything placed against it get atomized," responded Yuuno, swiftly. Her expression becoming a pout, she glared at the case. "I don't know how they got past that one, I made sure the spell was applied perfectly..." "Hmm..." Toshiko looked around the case carefully, eyeing it from every angle. It wasn't particularly small, the case's insides were more then large enough to accommodate the vase and... quite possibly something else. Judging from the size of the case, in fact, the vase was rather large itself. "How big is the vase, exactly?" she asked again. "Ah? It's taller then me!" replied Yuuno, quickly. Toshiko's attention returned to the case. A whole other person could fit in there... "... Is there any defenses inside the case?" Yuuno looked at the case again, and frowned, folding her arms. "I don't... think so..."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Your case is not fused with the flooring," Ryuuko stated, eyeing the vase's ultimate defence carefully. Having considered how their thief had bypassed all the other defences, here presented one avenue in that took even less work than moving the wall away: at least the wall was a single continuous structure, "Which leads me to assume that the thief could have removed the floor and worked their way beneath the vase. Or they could have displaced merely a part of their own body to be able to access and move the vase. Even without cancelling the defences on this case, they have displayed a potential ability to move the mansion's walls out of the way and I doubt that a clear container would be much impediment."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ehh? But beneath the floor is where mother's traps are," Yuuno protested, frowning, "They couldn't even get an arm down there, that's for sure. It triggers the moment it finds anything down there and melts them like acid." "Still," Toshiko replied, "Isn't there a chance that they could have displaced a limb in there? Or..." The redheaded mage narrowed her eyes. Hold it a moment, what was... Leaning in closely, Toshiko eyed the porcelain beneath the glass case. There was something curious there... It was a dark print. Too wide and thick to be a fingerprint... a toe-print? The blood, if that is what it was, was dried, and from the shape it seemed like a big toe on a small foot. And alongside it, a couple of blonde hairs... "... Someone was inside the case, with an injured foot," Toshiko concluded. Sadly this did not exactly help too much, but those blonde hairs... blonde hairs an an injured foot. Unless the culprit had fled quickly enough that at least narrowed down their potential suspects...</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Once again, Ryuuko found herself examining closely something that Toshiko had already noticed. In this case, the blood stain. If there was one, then surely there would be more or a sign of a cut? Then... if she followed their path backwards towards the door she would have to find some clue: anyone that had removed all the previous bloodstains would have solved the last one. Sure enough, back by the door, there was another print that they had missed, a too-wide print that indicated quite a small culprit. "I am going to trace this further back," the heiress stated, straightening from her position, "And head to the library if I lose the trail to examine it once again." And maybe she could ask for the maids to not clean up any bloodstains that they found.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "In that case, I'll question Yuuno-chan to see if she knows anything else," Toshiko said with a nod, watching Ryuuko walk away. Soon enough, she turned to face the young girl. Right, it was time to get to work and see if she knew anything else that might be helpful. Meanwhile, for Ryuuko, the trail of blood was not a long one... but it ended at a point that was easily overlooked, yet obvious if you really looked for it. It's likely they would have caught it on the trip back regardless. It was a strip of fabric, looking like it had been part of a sock, perhaps, judging by the texture and appearance. So the suspect(or one of the suspects) had taken off their shoes before making there way inside? And... somehow taken an injury to their foot... though it only took a moment to see what had caused it. A nail sat nearby, long enough to easily(and painfully) penetrate someone's foot, though not enough to go entirely through it. But why was there a nail sitting on the ground, exactly? There were a few maids a few meters away. Oddly enough, one of them was fiddling with a nail as she spoke to the others.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko coughed politely as she drew closer to the maids, the trail that she was following ending at a conspicuous nail. For one, it was just there on the floor rather than in anywhere befitting a nail. It was even more inexcusable when one considered the state of the rest of the mansion; a misplaced nail should have been removed or restored to its proper position in minutes rather than unintentionally injuring a thief. Deliberate, then? The maid holding a nail encouraged a view such as that. "I am Miura Ryuuko, here to investigate the recent theft. Could you please explain why it is that you are carrying a nail?" the girl asked, gesturing with one hand towards the bloodied nail for an indication of why she cared. Her other hand was careful not to stray far from the katana's handle: something about this family made the idea of rebellious servants seem quite likely.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Eh?" the maid looked away from her conversation partner and immediately her gaze zeroed in on the nail. "You found it! I was missing one!" Immediately she made to grab the nail, but paused for a moment, eyes on the bloodied tip. Her face became an expression of mild confusion at the sight of the clearly-bloody nail. What had happened, exactly? She didn't recall anything unusual... "I had meant to set them up last night, but I was missing one and-" Her shorter, brown-haired friend quickly struck her sharply on the back of the head, causing the former maid to yelp in surprise. "Do you really think you should just blab about that to anyone? Really now..." The maid sighed. "Let me explain. You're... Miura-san, right? One of the detectives? The maids under the employ of this branch of the Daidouji family have more skills then doing the chores." She paused for a moment, and took a deep breath, before gesturing towards the dark-haired maid. "But this blabbermouth idiot seems like she can't keep her mouth shut about it." "H-hey!" protested the first maid, frowning. "In any case, it's not as if you aren't here to help, so I feel safe telling you about it," continued the brunette maid, "Besides, I need help convincing this moron that there was a theft at all." "But there wasn't!" cried the black-haired maid, "Was there?" A chop was brought down on the maid's head once more, making her yelp. "Stupid. You were so concerned about your missing nail that you didn't even realize the vase was gone." Something seemed fishy about this. A nail belonging to the black-haired maid had injured one of the thieves... and yet, somehow, that maid didn't remember the theft.</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Hu hu hu!" the black-haired maid seemed to suddenly be filled with pride on the subject of her nails. Behind her, the brunette softly brought a palm to her face. "My trap nails aren't ordinary nails! Look!" Pressing the top of nail, the tip suddenly collapsed inward, twisting as it did until there was simply, seemingly, a small flat disc of metal. When placed on the ground, it would be rather difficult to see it at all, even if you were a seasoned thief. "When something stands on top of it, it extends all at once and drills a hole right into whatever touched it! But... I didn't set any up last night, I was going to but... something happened..." The girl trailed off, frowning to herself as she did. "... I don't really remember, maybe I was tired? Er..." "As you can see, she's just an idiot," said the brunette with a sigh. "I have no idea how she doesn't know what happened."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The swordsman could see where such a nail would be more likely to wound someone--particularly if it was slipped under a carpet or otherwise hidden. Unless an infiltrator was wearing oddly thick or reinforced footwear, then simply walking normally could cause crippling damage. Not that their thief had been particularly stymied by the apparent injury but the thought was there. Though... why? "Why would you own or set up something like this?" Plus the black haired girl still seemed unable to remember her own trap-setting, maybe... "And is there someone else that could have placed the nail?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "We're not just maids, you know!" declared the black-haired girl with an air of pride in her voice. "Daidouji-sama picked us out for more then just cooking and cleaning." "You can't do either of those things," the brunette interjected with another sigh. "H-hey!" "Anyway, this branch of the Daidouji family hired maids from a bit of an unusual source, I suppose," the brunette maid continued, folding her arms, "In Japan we're known as the Eighth House." It wasn't a name that would be unfamiliar to anyone involved in organized crime, supernatural or otherwise. The Eighth House was an international organization of assassins, who could also be employed as guards or any other profession that potentially required the abrupt and violent death of others. A guarantee that came with the Eighth Houses's assassins was quality. "The Daidouji are concerned other branches of their family may attack them," the smaller of the two maids continued, "So they take extra measures to ensure they aren't targeted." "As for the nails, I'm the only one who uses them!" declared the black-haired maid.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Why, why, would you seek to employ assassins as a large component of your domestic help? Whilst it might guarantee a defence against unexpected assailants, it was a glorious avenue for someone inserting their own assassin into your midst. Without simply having more money than anyone that might ever want you dead or some other means of earning loyalty from an amoral business, you were doomed in the long term. Wondering about this family branch's apparent desire to be eventually stabbed in the back aside, there was something strange about the black haired maid's insistence that it had to have been her because they were her nails and yet continuing to claim that she didn't remember setting them up. That left one thing to check: was she ill. The heiress stepped into the maid's reach, one hand placing itself on the girl's forehead.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "... Ah...?" The black-haired maid stared in blank confusion as Ryuuko touched her forehead, before her cheeks colored slightly and she was left speechless for a few moments. Her head was not abnormally hot. Indeed, she seemed to be perfectly healthy, only... with Ryuuko's hand pushing the bangs out of the way, a rune was visible, in what was seemingly black ink, scrawled under her hair. Without deeper knowledge of runes it would be hard to decipher, but it could easily explain the maid's forgetfulness.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "... Miss, you are coming with me to your employer," Ryuuko stated, hand sliding down to take the maid's wrist. It was unlikely that she would resist too much but her other hand didn't stray from the handle or her blade, just in case, "I believe that she might be able to explain your memory problems." Normally, the purple-haired girl would have turned around and gone to Toshiko instead but the redhead was conducting her own investigations. Moreover, there were still some questions that needed to be asked of Daidouji and they were closer to the library, if she recalled the way correctly. Maid in tow, Ryuuko continued on her initial path.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ehhhh? What's going on?" The black-haired maid stumbled along behind Ryuuko, confused. Why, exactly, was this happening? She really couldn't say that she understood. However, she didn't really resist. After all, there must have been some reason this was going on, right? And therefore it was time to follow the other girl, even if she didn't really understand what was happening. The library wasn't too far away. Within, Daidouji Tomoko was continuing to repair the damaged barrier spell, remaining where she was as she carefully restored it to full function.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "I have come to report on the progress of our investigation," the purple-haired girl said, "It appears that the thief made their way past the defences by displacing the walls. Moreover, one of their displacements failed in a manner that brought the wall into contact with the library. We have also found indications that the infiltrator was an onmyouji, blonde, and most likely barefoot." So far, Ryuuko had simply stated everything that their investigation of the vase's defences had yielded. "By tracing the bloodstains that our thief left, I came across this maid and her nails. She seems to have no recollection of having placed the nails but if you inspect her forehead..." the heiress continued, pushing the maid towards Tomoko.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Aoyama-san?" Tomoko asked, tilting her head slightly to the side as Ryuuko made her explanation, eyeing the maid. All of that made... far too much sense to her, and explained the white dust in the library if it had come from the wall, and just why the barrier had broken when the thieves had never actually entered the library. As for the maid, Tomoko was well aware of the maid's usage of trick nails for weaponry, traps and various other purposes. But if she didn't remember... Tomoko reached towards the awkwardly-shifting maid, brushing her bangs back. There was the black rune, seemingly written in ink. For a few moments she stared, then narrowed her eyes. "This rune is designed to suppress and eventually destroy specific memories," she commented, "Which means that the thief must have..." She paused for a moment, while the maid fretted over the fact that her mind had been messed with. "... But you said the thief was an onmyouji? Runecraft is a mage's work."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko paused, not having considered that. To her limited knowledge, the arts seemed more or less the same: you drew specific symbols, imbued them with mana, and that had some effect. But from Tomoko's answer, it seemed that there was more of a separation than she had assumed? In that case, perhaps here assumption that the same person was behind both was misinformed... had someone been trying to surreptitiously sabotage the theft? Or maybe they had been wrong and there wasn't an onmyouji at all? "Though the evidence found at the site was undoubtedly a fragment of ofuda, I cannot say for certain whether it was indeed a traditional design or whether some foreign rune was imprinted upon it," the purple-haired girl admitted, "Or it might be that a second magic user was at work here, though the thief's injury and your maid's lost memories hide whose side they were really on."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "There's no way of knowing..." Tomoko replied with a sigh, trailing off... before she looked at her maid's forehead again. "Unless we can break the spell. I'm afraid I can't help due to my role in reestablishing this barrier, but if I'm not mistaken you could destroy it, possibly, by overloading the rune with mana to break it." "Er... wh-what would you be doing to my head exactly?" asked the maid, nervously, taking a step back. It appeared that she really didn't like hearing that they would be shooting mana into her forehead. "It's not a complicated process," Tomoko responded. This seemed to do little to soothe her maid's concern.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "A rune has been placed on your forehead and I am going to remove it," the apprentice mage stated, not waiting for the maid's consent. For all she knew, the girl would be obliged to try and stop her because of whatever else the rune was doing. One hand blurred into position under black hair and the other got ready to stop anything that she might choose to do. Maybe a more experienced magic user could have done this with no mental preparation or elaborate symbolism. Ryuuko had no such shortcuts available and split the simple operation into two parts: first establish a link with the target. Her fingers formed the physical bridge and from there made a path for the mystical. Then visualise a void within the rune, drawing down mana through the link, consuming all until the fragile symbol would be unable to take any more and the gaping emptiness would devour it as well. The inefficiency of such an operation was clear; a spiky corona of darkness--coloured mana--engulfed her hand and the top of the girl's head, but she was sure that some of it was going into its destination and--hopefully--would remove the rune to continue their investigation.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko For a few moments, nothing seemed to happen... and then the maid shut her eyes tightly and clapped her hands on her head. "Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow headaaaaache..." she whined, trembling with effort to stay on her feet. However, once the process was complete, the rune itself seemed to have grown... hazy. Moments later, it flaked away entirely from the black-haired maid's skin... and she fell to her knees, wincing. Obviously, the experience of having something pulled out of her mind had caused some level of discomfort. Still, she didn't seem as if she was in actual danger... yet, and the rune had been removed.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Do you remember what happened last night? It seems that someone barefoot must have trod upon one of your nails," Ryuuko stated, not wanting to waste time waiting for the maid to get around to it herself. Her magic might have been successful for now but there was no guarantee that it would stay this way: she wanted to get the information out of the trap-laying black-haired girl and then let her go and try to recover from what had happened.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko For a few moments, the black-haired girl rubbed at her temples and winced, not finding the strength to do anything other then try and sooth the throbbing ache in her skull. However, as those moments passed, it seemed like the pain must have been lessening, and slowly she opened her eyes... and then they widened as memories came flooding to her. "Blonde hair! One was little and she had blonde hair!" she cried, waving her hands in the air, "She looked kind of like... like a doll! She was like... a little doll? Not literally but she looked really fragile! She only had socks on too and she stepped on my nail when she was coming in and then I jumped out to stop them! But then the bigger one, she had black hair, and she got really mad and hit me in the face!"</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko For a few moments, the black-haired girl rubbed at her temples and winced, not finding the strength to do anything other then try and sooth the throbbing ache in her skull. However, as those moments passed, it seemed like the pain must have been lessening, and slowly she opened her eyes... and then they widened as memories came flooding to her. "Blonde hair! One was little and she had blonde hair!" she cried, waving her hands in the air, "She looked kind of like... like a doll! She was like... a little doll? Not literally but she looked really fragile! She only had socks on too and she stepped on my nail when she was coming in and then I jumped out to stop them! But then the bigger one, she had black hair, and she got really mad and hit me in the face!"</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Do you have any more details?" she said. This was a small step forwards--there had been two thieves, one having left the bloodstain behind and presumably removed the stained sock (or used it as a bandage?), for certain. There was little useful new information, though. Their second intruder was able to hit you in the face and disable somehow, possibly through force or through the rune that she had just removed, "For instance, were they known to your group or your employers? Did they have other distinguishing features?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ummm.... I don't think we know them at all..." the maid looked thoughtful for a few moments, before glancing at Tomoko. The older woman shook her head, seeming just as surprised at the appearance of the two thieves as the maid was. Indeed, things seemed like they were really rather confusing in this circumstance, as far as the Daidouji household was concerned. There wasn't any recognition from either the family members or the maid. At least, not Tomoko and this specific maid. "Er... Oh, I think the blonde one had... blue eyes?" she said, "I can't remember what color the black-haired ones' eyes were... even though she hit me in the face..." The maid seemed rather sour about that last part.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It seemed that neither of the mansion's residents had any idea who the invaders could be--a pity, since Ryuuko had no more idea herself and pink eyes were more unusual than indicative of any further abilities. The most that could be achieved with this information was to possibly ask after anyone of a matching description fleeing the mansion the previous night. "I shall go inform Ando-shishou of further discoveries. It would be beneficial if you could search the mansion for anybody matching those descriptions, as the thieves may not have left yet," the purple-haired girl stated, bowing perfunctorily and walking back towards the entrance. Provided that she didn't get lost, it should be easy to find the vase-storing room and her teacher within short order.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko While the vase-storing room was easy enough to return to, it seemed as if something had perhaps gone amiss. Neither Toshiko nor the daughter of the Daidouji family remained there. Just where had they gone, and what were they doing?</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko As if tracing her steps once wasn't enough, both her employer and their current guide had gone elsewhere in the mansion without warning. With a sigh, Ryuuko began to look around the room once again, this time for any trace of runework--on the case, nearby it, or even on the walls and ceiling. Though with the Daidouji's own brand of magic being western, it wouldn't be out of place at all... and Yuuno wasn't around to explain whether that should be there or not. When she was done, if they hadn't already returned, the purple-haired girl rose up and turned to leave the room again. If she could find a maid, which shouldn't be hard at all, they ought to know where the hell the other two had gotten to... or anywhere that Yuuno might like to hang around, at least.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Eventually, the maid directed Ryuuko to the dining hall, where she had seen both Toshiko and Yuuno heading to. She hadn't disturbed them, as it was likely they were busy with something relating to the case. Regardless of just what it was, Toshiko had seemed in quite a hurry. Perhaps there had been some sort of revelation regarding the case? Either way, it was clear where they were. Upon arriving there, Ryuuko would see Toshiko and Yuuno seated beside one another. Toshiko seemed rather pleased with herself, so there must have been some kind of development.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It was definitely strange that the pair of them had relocated into the dining hall but, given that her own sources of information had stemmed from accosting an unfortunate maid in the hallways, Ryuuko wasn't one to judge. She announced her arrival into the room and bowed perfunctorily--it was somewhat annoying to have found no more information on further examination of the room. "Ando-san, Yuuno-chan, I have been able to learn more information about our thief. Firstly, calling them a thief is inaccurate, there were two partners in this crime. Secondly, we are dealing with both a western mage and an onmyouji."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ah, good work, Ryuuko-kun," said Toshiko, rising to her feet with a smile. Indeed, it was more then Toshiko had managed to find. Outside of those few clues that they had already discovered already, there hadn't been much of anything. But now... that was interesting. A western mage and an onmyouji? It was a shame to interrupt her little talk with Yuuno, who was now rather nervously shifting in her seat and looking back over her shoulder at Ryuuko, but this was important. "Both a Western Mage and an onmyouji, huh? That's interesting..." she trailed off for a few moments. "And one was blonde, too... do you know anything about the other? One was small and blonde... was the other taller and with black hair? Toshiko was having growing suspicions in regards to the nature of the theft.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "According to the maid, her partner matches that description, though she couldn't provide more details because of being knocked out right away," Ryuuko said. So these people were already known to Toshiko? It was hardly enough clues to construct a legal case but when you were dealing with magic that had never been an option in the first place. It seemed that their job might already be finished despite the relatively short time that had been spent here. She was a bit confused by Yuuno's reaction. Was her sword more prominent than it had been before or was her backup knife showing? The younger girl had seemed perfectly comfortable around her earlier in the day...</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "... Then I have a feeling I know exactly who was behind this," Toshiko replied, "Though I have no idea what end they might be seeking, this doesn't sound like their normal fair." After a moment's pause, where the redheaded mage thought over exactly how to reveal what she knew. "The thieves are, most likely, a pair of girls known as Kitty and Bunny," she said, finally, "They're typically known for stealing high-profile items using magic, then return them roughly a day later without any explanation. They're in it for the sport, in other words, rather then to keep whatever it is that they've taken. The mundane media regards them as phantoms, and to be honest so does quite a bit of our community as well. However, that doesn't mean we don't know what they look like. Kitty is a short, doll-like girl from Italy with blonde hair. Bunny is a taller Japanese girl with short black hair. Kitty is a mage, Bunny is an onmyouji." After a moment's pause, Toshiko continued. "I'm not certain it's them, but the more I hear about these details the more I suspect it's the case. Yuuno remained silent, giving an occasional nervous glare towards Ryuuko.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko From the sounds of it, the thieves would normally be returning the stolen item sometime tonight, which would make this whole theft nothing more than an elaborate test of the mansion's security and payment for doing absolutely nothing useful on their part. They could simply identify the perpetrators to Tomoko and be on their way. "What makes you think that this is any different from a normal theft? We can simply wait for tonight and for the return of the vase." "Have I done something, Yuuno-chan?" Ryuuko asked, smoothing her kimono in case it was something about her appearance, even though the girl didn't seem the type. Being looked at so harshly for no apparent reason was quite unnerving...</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Well... their thefts are normally high-profile, mundane items," Toshiko explained, adjusting her glasses as she did. "They take it long enough to generate a buzz and speculation, then return it just like that. They're not in it for anything more then the sport, the entertainment. They want to see people run about in a panic, only for the stolen item to be returned as if it had never disappeared in the first place. So a theft like this, for them, is very strange... strange enough that I'd suspect someone else if not for those descriptions. Something strange is going on." Meanwhile, Yuuno simply averted her eyes and let out a huff, blushing faintly. "I-I was talking with Toshiko-san, I don't like being interrupted!" she said, quickly. Toshiko simply smiled. "Of course you don't. In any case, the we can't count on the vase being returned."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "If they wouldn't normally do this, do you have any idea how to contact or trap them? My family has a lot of reach and we might be able to arrange buying it off them if we can supply a reason for knowing they have it... then just take it," Ryuuko suggested, treating the idea of robbing the thieves entirely too easily. She'd extort them without a second's thought, too. "Though I would rather deal with this without falling back on my connections." Yuuko's explanation, as shallow as it had been, was accepted without question: there were more important things to deal with right now than how angry a teenager was at someone walking into the room. She might be able to find out the real reason why later but the job took precedence.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "I don't think that will be necessary. Given the circumstances, the time since the item was stolen, and the size of the item, it's likely they haven't left the local area," Toshiko replied. Before she hadn't been so certain, but even the phantom thieves were unlikely to be able to take an object that large particularly far this quickly. And to be frank, she expected that they were being paid, or perhaps extorted, to steal this item. It was after all out of the realm of their usual operations. "It means our next move is to attempt to locate them. If I'm correct, it might be possible to scry their location." She paused for a moment. "Not by looking for the vase, but by using that scrap of ofuda."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Is my help required for this, or should I prepare for possible violence?" the apprentice asked, thinking back to the maid's statement about being... well, hit in the face. If they actually went out to recover the vase in person and one of the thieves was injured, it seemed quite likely that things would get out of hand.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Scrying is something any mage worth their salt should know how to do," replied Toshiko. Yuuno shuffled in her seat and grumbled to herself, giving Ryuuko another look for a few moments as the redheaded mage approached her apprentice. "It's only natural to introduce you to it when it's become relevant. You'll need to participate in the spell," continued Toshiko, producing the ofuda scrap again, "By using this scrap of ofuda, we'll be able to trace their location. This was pretty clumsy of them, when you think about it, leaving something like this behind." She paused for a moment. "More specifically, we'll be tracing Bunny's mana. There's still traces of it inside this piece of paper, which means that by using scrying we should be able to lock onto her. I can't imagine Kitty will be far away."</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "I don't think that will be necessary. Given the circumstances, the time since the item was stolen, and the size of the item, it's likely they haven't left the local area," Toshiko replied. Before she hadn't been so certain, but even the phantom thieves were unlikely to be able to take an object that large particularly far this quickly. And to be frank, she expected that they were being paid, or perhaps extorted, to steal this item. It was after all out of the realm of their usual operations. "It means our next move is to attempt to locate them. If I'm correct, it might be possible to scry their location." She paused for a moment. "Not by looking for the vase, but by using that scrap of ofuda."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Is my help required for this, or should I prepare for possible violence?" the apprentice asked, thinking back to the maid's statement about being... well, hit in the face. If they actually went out to recover the vase in person and one of the thieves was injured, it seemed quite likely that things would get out of hand.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Scrying is something any mage worth their salt should know how to do," replied Toshiko. Yuuno shuffled in her seat and grumbled to herself, giving Ryuuko another look for a few moments as the redheaded mage approached her apprentice. "It's only natural to introduce you to it when it's become relevant. You'll need to participate in the spell," continued Toshiko, producing the ofuda scrap again, "By using this scrap of ofuda, we'll be able to trace their location. This was pretty clumsy of them, when you think about it, leaving something like this behind." She paused for a moment. "More specifically, we'll be tracing Bunny's mana. There's still traces of it inside this piece of paper, which means that by using scrying we should be able to lock onto her. I can't imagine Kitty will be far away."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The apprentice studied the scrap, then took Toshiko's recently vacated seat, one arm propped up to support her head. "So because your affinity colours your mana when it's used, it can be linked back to you. How, though? Most scrying in western traditions seems to use water or mirrors... something that can hold an image." Maybe a magic circle of some sort? Was scrying the sort of thing that could be improved by having multiple people working on it? Not that they seemed to be a trio with particularly useful affinities for this sort of thing, with all of them tending towards spells that would be better at causing damage than actually finding something out...</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Yuuno-chan, you might want to go and tell the maids there's going to be a bit of a mess to clean up shortly," said Toshiko, giving a glance towards the girl. After a moment's hesitation, and a huff, the girl hopped to her feet and left the room, leaving the redheaded mage and her pupil alone. This was mostly an exercise in trying to teach her student a basic skill of many magi. Scrying was, of course, a skill possessed by almost every mage. Rummaging through her bag, Toshiko produced some chalk and what appeared to be a small, portable blackboard. "This is a skill any mage should possess," she began, as she turned to face Ryuuko, "Most accomplished magi can scry, and I'm certain you don't want to be left out." Toshiko pulled out a sheet of paper. On it was a magic circle, intricately designed and featuring a variety of different symbols. "I need to to replicate this on the board. If you're struggling I can help. After you've done so, I'll begin to help you perform a successful scrying spell. It's not a complicated process, but if you get something wrong you're going to end up with a waste of mana and nothing more."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko took a look at the complicated design, then the sheet of paper and pursed her mouth in thought. It was complicated, certainly, but some of the skills her family had pushed her to work more on made sense in light of her need for magical as well as mundane education. Calligraphy, for instance, not only served to indicate her refinement but to make the replication of a design like this simply an extension of abilities she already had. Not that she was entirely happy about having to do it with something like chalk. Soon enough, the sound of chalk clicking against the blackboard replaced the opulent quiet of the dining room, the humble sound of the circle's faithful replication being almost entirely out of place in such lavish surroundings. Pouring molten gold into marble etchings would really have been a better flavour for this house.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko watched her pupil carefully. Indeed, this seemed like a case of Ryuuko's skills perfectly playing into the task at hand. Replicating a magic circle was really not far outside of calligraphy. As a result it wasn't too long until they had a full circle. "Now, Ryuuko-san," Toshiko began, "Our first order of business is to place the scrap of ofuda in the center of this circle. The scrying circle will be able to take the information it needs from it in order to locate our target, but you'll need to provide the activation mana." There was no vocal component to this spell, as the circle did most of the invocation work itself.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko All she had to do was feed mana to the circle? Hopefully, Toshiko would get around to some explanation of the design at a later point; knowing how to use a spell but having no idea what it was--or how to tell it apart from something of similar operation but vastly more danger--seemed to be a rather big risk to take. So, place the ofuda in the circle--a quick flick of her wrist was enough to pull the shred of paper from Toshiko's fingers and allow it to float into position--and then feed mana to it. Repeat the same visualisation exercise from earlier, her fingers forming a bridge for mana to be sucked down into the circle. The circle that, in its own way, knew more about what was going on than the apprentice herself did... Hopefully, this worked in a manner she could make sense of the results.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Admittedly, we're relying on some assumptions here, that they haven't somehow placed defenses to block scrying. But if they're attempting to avoid too much attention..." The chalk was suddenly filled with a silvery light, travelling slowly along each line. Eventually, the entire chalk outline was glowing silver, and the symbol seemed to be pulled inward from the center, each layer of the circle descending further then the previous. Finally, at the bottom, the center circle grew translucent... and was abruptly filled with greyness. "It's attempting to pinpoint their location," Toshiko explained, helpfully. "Any moment now... and..." The grey was quickly proven to be a cloud layer, as their viewpoint rapidly rushed through it. It gave an unnerving sensation of falling when directly looked at. Below was what was an obvious aerial view of the city, becoming larger and larger as the scene rushed up to greet them. Suddenly, their viewpoint halted, and jerked to the left sharply, before giving the both of them a view of what appeared to be a somewhat dilapidated apartment building. It was in a rather more run down area of the city, buildings that were due for, but had not yet been, demolished. The viewpoint sank lower, sinking through the roof... "When is our client going to be here already?!" one voice, squeaky and high-pitched, whined. The Japanese was fluent and there was no hint of an accent, but it belonged to a short blonde girl. She was resting on what was a remarkably preserved couch, one foot bare, elevated, and bandaged. "Waiting this long in a crappy place like this is just ridiculous. We can't even get any good wards set up here! Jeez!" "They said they might not be able to come very fast," responded the other girl, taller and with black hair, "So just try and relax. You should be glad this room has a nice couch." "Hmph, relax... my foot still hurts..." the short blonde continued to complain, "Stupid maid..." The taller black-haired girl paused for a moment. "... Do you feel like you're being watched?" she asked, looking about. The blonde sighed. "What, do you think there's ghosts now or something?!" "No, I-" It was about then that the scrying spell reached its limit, fading away into regular chalk once more.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Confirming the identity of their culprits was nice, though Ryuuko wasn't paying too much attention to them (or even the successful spell, though it was nice to succeed) instead focusing on their surroundings. The scrying hadn't given an aerial view for long but she was confident that it was enough... she'd seen enough maps of Kawa. It helped to keep up to date on where her family was doing business and one of their more legal ventures was specifically in buying up and replacing dilapidated property. Not that everything that happened in the meantime was legal. "Ando-san, I know where this building is. It's certainly in the New Development district." the purple-haired girl stated, referring to a place that had been 'new'... after the war, though the name was going to be accurate again. Not the exact street address but finding a large apartment wouldn't be difficult at all--if their quarry was even in the same building when they got there, "Will you need directions?" For once, Toshiko's horrifying driving would work in their favour.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "No, I think I know where this is, too." Toshiko quickly informed the family of what they were doing, and hurried out of the mansion. There was no time to lose, the longer they took, the more of a chance there would be that the client who had hired the thieves might show up, and that would mean there would be much less of a chance of recovering the vase. The trip to the New Development district was... intense. Toshiko's remarkable ability not to get pulled over for dangerous driving was absolutely a factor in their safe arrival, as was the fact that many other drivers were terrified to be near the vehicle that could quite possibly kill someone at any moment. And yet, the made it their casualty-free. The building was tall and decrepit. An apartment, most likely, that had never had any real inhabitants. Though someone had lived their at some point, if the couch was any indication. Toshiko swiftly pulled her car up, and moments later got out. From what she could detect, there was nothing out of the ordinary. However, this was a conflict between those people who could use the existence known as magic. Caution could not be forgotten. Toshiko placed one hand in her pocket as she approached the front door. The chains keeping it shut had been broken. "Ryuuko-san, stay back until I've checked the entrance," Toshiko began, as she approached the doorway, "There's no guarantees that it's not tra-" Suddenly a series of symbols lit up around the doorway! Toshiko barely had time to tug something from her pocket before there was a high-pitched whine and- The doorway exploded, and flames immediately engulfed Toshiko. Her form vanished in fire and sound, entirely obscured from view for a few scant moments... even after the fires cleared, smoke and dust rendered what had happened completely invisible for a moment... Until a reddish glow became visible as the smoke cleared. Toshiko stood, one arm covering her mouth, the other holding up a burning piece of paper. A rune was scrawled on the charm, and soon enough it burned away. With it, the red-tinted cage of light that had formed around the redheaded mage flickered out of existence. "Damn it, it was longer range then I thought!" she snapped, craning her neck to look back at her student. "Ryuuko-san, there's no time for us to take it slow any longer, they must know we're here! Follow me!"</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ah, sorry, sorry," Toshiko said, waving her hand, "It doesn't really make sense not to let you go forward, now, does it?" Still, Toshiko kept a close watch on her student as they hurried inside. So far, it seemed as if the response wasn't immediate, which likely meant there was more traps. The lobby was decrepit, and with no power there was no way the elevators would work. That meant heading for the stairs! Once they reached the stairs, it was easy enough to look up and see the strange spiraling structure as it went upwards. It was an unusual design for an apartment building, to see the stairs at the center of the building spiral upwards. Perhaps that was one of the reasons that the apartment now laid abandoned. The moment they stepped onto the stairway, there was a rush of wind from above, and a greenish blur seemed to rush down the center of the stairway! Frantically, Toshiko swiftly drew one of her shield runes as swiftly as she could, just in time for the shield that blazed to life to block a sudden blow from a black-haired girl. However, the force of the punch was not fully deflected, and Toshiko found herself rocketing backwards into the lobby, skidding along the ground on her feet before catching herself barely, the rune burning away. "Bunny, huh?" Toshiko commented, as the onmyouji used several ofuda to propel herself a little further before landing in the lobby herself. "Displacement and air onmyodo seems like it perfectly suits you, after that stunt." "I don't know who you are, but I'm not going to let you interefere," commented the thief, simply, raising her fists. Before Ryuuko could attempt to join the fight, however, there was a humming sound ahead of her. An unseen ofuda lit up, and directly ahead of her appeared the second figure that had been seen during the scrying spell. Her blonde twintails bobbed as she huffed, placing her hands on her hips. "Hmph! So you're the intruders?" she asked, cocking her head to one side. Her feet were bare, and one bandaged. "I'm not going to let you gang up on Bunny! Your opponent is me!"</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The lack of traps on the way to the stairwell was more unnerving than another explosion would be: it could mean too many things. Maybe they were too late and the first trap had just been to dissuade them, or maybe they'd already missed it and the whole building was about to come crumbling down around them. The less expected outcome was for one of the thieves to drop down the stairwell--something even a swift cut wasn't able to react to in time--and force space between Ryuuko and Toshiko. It was still two on one, though--until the injured girl showed up. What was she even thinking? After the nail, there was no way that she was going to be able to keep up if Ryuuko got in close. In an area like this, the one that couldn't move was going to lose before the attack was even made. "One theft gone wrong and so many thieves will turn to violence to clear up after themselves," the purple haired girl mused, meeting the blonde's eyes with her own sharp gaze, then darting forwards without further warning. Though the girl herself was a threat, it was the area around them that was taking more of her attention: someone had rigged the entry to explode and someone had sealed the maid's memories with a rune, and it wasn't the onmyouji. There could still be any number of traps.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Hmph," the twintailed girl let out a huff, "It's only when people like you try to interfere. Why are you even here?" She didn't take a step as Ryuuko suddenly rushed forward, seemingly not intending to do anything herself at all. At least, until a yellow-red light suddenly blazed to life on the wall just ahead of the mage's apprentice. In less then a second's time, it erupted outward with a blast of noise and heat, a small explosion ripping its way right into Ryuuko's path! The rush of air hit Toshiko before the blow did, and that was the only thing that let her draw another shield rune to deflect it. Down three already?! The sheer force of the blow sent her skidding backwards once more, towards the exit. "No wonder you took out a trained assassin so easily," Toshiko commented, tossing aside the burning rune as it dissipated into ashes. "Air synergizes well with hand to hand combat." "Flattery's not going to get you anywhere," replied the onmyouji, squaring herself up for another attack, "You're working for the victims of the theft, that's easy enough to assume. So I won't let you get any further." Suddenly Bunny rocketed towards her once more. This time, however, Toshiko was a little quicker on the draw, dodging. The air rushed past her as Bunny's fist smashed through plaster and concrete, debris scattering into the air from the impact. It was clear she was using ofuda on her body to boost her physical abilities, to say the least. And as Toshiko moved behind her, even as Bunny swiftly began to turn... Ofuda on her shoes as well?</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko When the explosion came roaring out, Ryuuko reacted the same way that she had planned for traps: try and pump mana into it and overload the spell, and failing that hope that her outstretched hand would divert the magic so that the damage would go off to one side and leave her unharmed. Unfortunately, this wasn't a trap and didn't work the same way the maid's runes had and the attempt could at best be described as 'barely successful'. Instead of being significantly disrupted, the explosion was merely weakened slightly and drawn towards her arm--leaving light but noticeable burns and down one sleeve. Her hand got the worst of it but, though the heiress' grip didn't slack. Pain was too little reason to let herself be weaker. "You're lucky that wasn't worse. My father would never let you go if I were to die to some common criminal," she said, annoyed at being even further back than her initial position. She would have to take this with more seriousness, even though the idea of striking with full force at a seemingly defenceless girl was nauseating. This time, when she darted forwards, it was with magic reinforcing her base abilities and moving faster than any human had good reason to be. In a race between Ryuuko and Kitty's reactions, she planned to delay the blonde by working out what she was doing. Step one: cut the previous explosion's origin mid-dash. If that forced her to do something else, she just had to outlast the mage.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Cutting the wall didn't appear to do anything of note. Instead, directly ahead of Ryuuko, a series of explosions erupted outward across the stairs, forming a fiery barrier of sound and force right in the path of the kimono-clad girl. Kitty had taken a step back further up the stairs, folding her arms firmly across her chest. "You're a complete idiot, thinking you can just rush me like that!" Kitty declared, a hint of pride entering the small girl's voice, "As long as I can touch the walls and floor, there's no way you'll make it to me!" Bunny's fist tore towards Toshiko once more. The mage could feel the air pressure, the blast rushing past her as she just barely managed to dodge. As it stood, this type of combat put her at something of a disadvantage. Quite simply, she needed to slow the onmyouji down in order to be able to generate distance better. It seemed as if ofuda attached to the bottom of her shoes were what was making her difficult to counter, making her so fast she was hard to do anything to defend against her... Toshiko packpedaled dragging one foot back along the floor as she adjusted her position and swung it back, and Bunny swifly lowered herself, ready to put on another air blast for speed. And just as she began to move...! "Ignite!" Toshiko cried. A simple fire spell never the less ignited along the same path as she moved her body, as Bunny moved forward. The onmyouji attempted to stop herself, but the air blast carried her forward... and the ofuda on one of her feet ignited. "Ah?!" She stomped her foot frantically, now through the fire, but it was too late. One of her ofuda had burned into an unusuable state.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It was true: so long as Kitty was in contact with some surface through which she could transmit the magic or however she was doing this, there was nothing that Ryuuko's highly limited skillset could do to counter the explosions. What she did have was an assuredly better reaction time and enough observational ability to recognise that if the explosions were being set off to specifically block her, rather than just firing off with far more risk of danger, then Kitty had to be watching her movements. An observation that would be blocked for just enough time after a previous explosion to get in close. That was Ryuuko's hope, otherwise this could go far more wrong than anticipated. The purple-haired apprentice took up her stance again and moved forwards nearly silently in comparison to the sounds of Toshiko and Bunny's fight or the explosions themselves. She took the inevitable explosion gracefully, reinforcing primarily her legs to land and recover--then dashed forwards as soon and fast as able, despite the head and risk of burns. If she could get through then her blade would find a nice spot on the blonde's neck... And it would be over.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Hmph, you should just pack up and leave!" Kitty declared, triumphantly, assuming that the explosion had blocked her opponent's progress. "Don't you get it? As long as some part of my body touches any surface of this building, I can set off an explosion! I've placed a network of explosive sigils on every single surface, event the ceiling! All it takes is-eh?!" She was not, however, prepared for Ryuuko's landing, nor the sudden dash towards her. Damn it, she was so close...! "La Re-" Before she could attempt to cast a spell, however, she felt a blade at her throat. As Bunny spun to continue her attack, she caught sight of her partner as well and immediately stopped. "Kitty?!" Toshiko came to a halt. "Good work, Ryuuko-san," she said, craning her neck to look back at her student and employee, before her focus returned to the onmyouji. "Now, I'm certain your partner won't come to any harm, but it'd be better for everyone if you would guarantee that by surrendering." Bunny clenched her fists.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Don't make the mistake of assuming that I won't cut you down if I have to. I am Miura-sama's sole heir and he made certain of my ability to finish an enemy before I was left to live away from constant bodyguards," Ryuuko stated helpfully, moving the blade closer for a second so that Kitty could feel the cold steel, "I doubt your magic is enough to break this blade in any timespan to escape alive." It was of course her employer's prerogative to begin any interrogation over the location of the stolen vase--or who might be behind the pair's unusual choice of theft. Once Kitty accepted her defeat, of course.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "..." Kitty's shoulders sagged with defeat. "... You jerk," she spat, a remarkably tame insult spoken in the most biting way possible, as she simply stood there and waited for Ryuuko to stop threatening to cut her head off in the wake of her surrender. Bunny, too, slumped and let out a sigh. "... Just... let her go and we'll talk, okay?" the black-haired onmyouji began, "Please don't hurt her." Toshiko folded her arms. It seemed as if Ryuuko's tactics had worked out, certainly... and perhaps that the two girls weren't entirely committed to this theft. There were several ways Toshiko could see displacement being utilized in this scenario, and yet the thieves had decided to cut their losses and surrender rather then keep fighting.</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Hmph, you should just pack up and leave!" Kitty declared, triumphantly, assuming that the explosion had blocked her opponent's progress. "Don't you get it? As long as some part of my body touches any surface of this building, I can set off an explosion! I've placed a network of explosive sigils on every single surface, event the ceiling! All it takes is-eh?!" She was not, however, prepared for Ryuuko's landing, nor the sudden dash towards her. Damn it, she was so close...! "La Re-" Before she could attempt to cast a spell, however, she felt a blade at her throat. As Bunny spun to continue her attack, she caught sight of her partner as well and immediately stopped. "Kitty?!" Toshiko came to a halt. "Good work, Ryuuko-san," she said, craning her neck to look back at her student and employee, before her focus returned to the onmyouji. "Now, I'm certain your partner won't come to any harm, but it'd be better for everyone if you would guarantee that by surrendering." Bunny clenched her fists.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Don't make the mistake of assuming that I won't cut you down if I have to. I am Miura-sama's sole heir and he made certain of my ability to finish an enemy before I was left to live away from constant bodyguards," Ryuuko stated helpfully, moving the blade closer for a second so that Kitty could feel the cold steel, "I doubt your magic is enough to break this blade in any timespan to escape alive." It was of course her employer's prerogative to begin any interrogation over the location of the stolen vase--or who might be behind the pair's unusual choice of theft. Once Kitty accepted her defeat, of course.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "..." Kitty's shoulders sagged with defeat. "... You jerk," she spat, a remarkably tame insult spoken in the most biting way possible, as she simply stood there and waited for Ryuuko to stop threatening to cut her head off in the wake of her surrender. Bunny, too, slumped and let out a sigh. "... Just... let her go and we'll talk, okay?" the black-haired onmyouji began, "Please don't hurt her." Toshiko folded her arms. It seemed as if Ryuuko's tactics had worked out, certainly... and perhaps that the two girls weren't entirely committed to this theft. There were several ways Toshiko could see displacement being utilized in this scenario, and yet the thieves had decided to cut their losses and surrender rather then keep fighting.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko In one fluid movement, the sword was retracted and once again sheathed, albeit with a sigh. There was something plainly disappointing about a battle without the slightest bit of bloodshed, with only the light singes on her arm showing what had happened. All of that build-up and potential without any satisfying release of the tension. Hopefully, this whole investigation could be over soon so she could find something to practice on. "You know what we want to know."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Out of the two thieves, it was Bunny that spoke first. "We were paid," she said, simply, "And it was enough that we couldn't ignore it. Even though we're thieves, we can't exactly just run off with that much money without doing what we received it for, can we?" Grumbling, Kitty averted her eyes with her arms folded, making her feelings on the matter known before she even spoke. "I thought we could." "Who is paying you?" Toshiko asked. That explained why it was such an unusual theft the pair of girls. It wasn't something they had wanted to steal for the spectacle of it, it was something they had stolen because they wanted to be paid, and it was an amount of money that neither of them could simply ignore. "You must have some kind of name." "He was an older man," Kitty spoke up this time, with a huff, "Kind of a creep, I'm pretty sure he was a Daidouji himself, too. He knew an awful lot about the layout of that mansion. Like he'd lived there or something."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "Could you draw a picture of some sort? Did he have any distinguishing features?" the apprentice asked, wanting to do a thorough job... even though she wasn't sure that recovering a piece of stolen property and identifying the real hand behind the thefts extended to 'hunt down the mastermind and exact the appropriate punishment'. Unless they'd already gone ahead and delivered the vase. That would make retrieving it considerably more awkward... a mage and a mage-in-training trying to recover a magic-draining urn from somebody that had an active interest in it?</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "A picture?" Kitty asked, "Well, I guess I could try, but..." Bunny almost immediately picked up the slack when Kitty trailed off. "She's a terrible artist, so don't bother." "H-hey!" Kitty protested, stepping forward and pointing her finger at her partner, "That's not it at all! It's just because he's going to be here in about a half an hour! If they wait, they'll meet him anyway!" Well that was certainly some interesting and fortuitous information. "So, that means the vase is still here, then?" Toshiko asked. Bunny nodded. "It is, we were waiting for him to arrive," she explained.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "If the vase is still here, then it would be prudent to take us to it. We must insure that it is secured; to leave it in a state where your employer might be able to leave with or activate it would endanger all of us," Ryuuko surmised, resting her chin on one hand. It was true that they were all unfamiliar with the inner workings of the urn. This would make securing it more difficult; they didn't know how to use it themselves. Yet to do nothing with a magic-ripping artefact around and only her combat skills being entirely capable of functioning without the supernatural was just risky.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "I guess I'll take you to it..." Kitty complained with a sigh, before turning to look at her partner. "Bunny, carry me." "Carry you?" Bunny commented with a raised eyebrow, "You can walk on that foot, can't you? I thought-" "Carry me! It's your fault in the first place!" Kitty declared loudly, waving her arms in the air angrily, "Besides, you seem to want to get embarrassingly close every other time..." The small blonde blushed as she looked away. With a sigh, Bunny headed back up to the other girl and picked her up, proceeding up the stairs at a relatively slow pace. Eventually, all four of them reached the thief pair's room. It was exactly as Ryuuko had seen in the scrying spell, quite a mess and with a semi-intact couch. Bunny sat Kitty down carefully on the couch, and the blonde pointed. "There it is," she said, simply. Toshiko's gaze followed her arm. Indeed, there it was. The vase was tall and pitch black, looking all the world like some kind of hole in the air. It didn't even shine from the light filtering in the window. Just looking at it gave a sort of unnatural sensation. "Interesting... it's definitely an abominable thing," Toshiko commented, raising an eyebrow.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko, displaying a surprising degree of boldness, walked over to the vase. It was strange to imagine that something like this could be dangerous, though it looked wrong. Oh, she had seen pictures of a similar material made by far more mundane means. It didn't have the strange presence of a magic-ripping vase, even if it was deactivated. Not that the presence was going to stop her from sticking her hand inside to check that there was an inside; the opening could have been a flat top from the lack of shadows. "Could we simply put runes or ofuda inside the vase to disable him when he arrives?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Thankfully, the vase was inactive. Nothing happened when Ryuuko placed her hand inside of it. "I don't think that anything placed inside would be effective, without destroying the vase," Toshiko said, approaching to look the magical object over. "Or hoping he stuck his hand inside of it, I suppose." Admittedly, she wouldn't exactly have mourned the vase's destruction, if not for the fact that the Daidouji appeared to want it retrieved, and not obliterated. She wasn't exactly keen on the existence of an object that could perform such a thorough draining of mana. To put it simply, the existence of such an object was discomforting to Ando Toshiko. "He might notice the damaged doorway, as well," she added, giving a glance at Kitty, who let out a huff and looked away. "I think it's possible to trap him rather easily, however." Toshiko looked around the building. "There's plenty of places to put traps," she continued, "And I'm assuming that Kitty-san's explosive sigils are still set around the apartment." "... Can we keep the money he would have given us?" asked Kitty, folding her arms, "This was a stupid waste of time otherwise, and I got stabbed in the foot for nothing if we don't get to keep it." "... I have to agree with Kitty," Bunny added, "She was hurt because of this job."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko "The money belongs neither to us or our employer. As far as I'm concerned, if you can keep it then do so," Ryuuko stated, not seeing any particular reason to take the money off the thieves simply to give it back to those behind the theft in the first place. It was apparent that the Daidouji's wealth was distributed around the family anyway and, consequently, taking the payment wouldn't leave their current employer any worse off. Nor did they owe it to the family to do so. On the subject of trapping, she had little to say. It wasn't her speciality to plan such things or set up magical traps of some sort: lying in wait and ambushing was more in the vein of the girl's skills.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "It's not as if I care about where his money goes," Toshiko commented, "You can have it." "Great!" declared Bunny, pumping one fist in the air. Her level of enthusiasm had gone up rather sharply at that news, and she turned to face her partner with a smile. Kitty was smiling, too, if only for a moment. "He'll be here soon, though," continued Bunny, turning to face the detective and her apprentice. "So if you want to have Kitty-chan help you set up traps, we'll have to work fast." Toshiko nodded, before turning to face Ryuuko. A basic plan had formed in her head, now. Ryuuko was more suited for a rapid, close-range attack, something that couldn't be avoided in a room like this. And so, if the Daidouji man managed to bypass any traps and reach this room... he'd be ambushed by Bunny and Ryuuko. "Kitty-san, come with me," Toshiko began. Immediately, Kitty frowned. "Why do you get to make the orders?" she complained. Toshiko simply continued without pausing. "Ryuuko-san, you'll stay here with Bunny-san. Ambush him if he comes through that door." Bunny nodded. "It's alright, Kitty-chan, just go with her and help her set up the traps. We'll be rid of this guy, this vase, and we'll have a lot of money." Kitty huffed, but eventually relented. Toshiko helped her out of the room and down the stairs. The culprit's arrival could be moments away.</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Bunny cracked her knuckles, hopping from one foot to another. Ofuda were drawn out of her pockets and attached to her shoes, a few more attached to her arms as well as she stretched, and rolled her neck. Finally, she took up a fighting stance opposite the kimono-clad, katana-wielding girl, bracing herself in case anyone opened the door. There weren't many words to be said, at this point. Downstairs, Toshiko and Kitty were swiftly organizing as many traps as the could as quickly as they could. Most of these were situated around the ruined doorway, which would ideally still manage to catch him off-guard. After all, there wasn't exactly any other place to enter even if it looked like the building had been hit with an explosive. When a car pulled up outside, the small girl and the woman quickly hid themselves, just out of sight. It was difficult to see the figure that entered through the doorway, but almost immediately the automatic sigils around the door blazed red before igniting in a furious explosion, tearing it to pieces. After the blast, Toshiko could see just what had happened. Paper-like fragments, smouldering, fell to the ground before dissipating into mana. Familiars? That's what seemed likely to her. So the Daidouji man was suspicious already... well, that was hardly the end of it. Almost immediately, several dozen other figures, all paper-like creatures as well, rushed the entrance with no hesitation. Yes, indeed, it was clear that their enemy had sent ahead one familiar to activate any traps, before sending ahead the others to swarm the building in overwhelming numbers and kill everyone inside. Kittty stepped out of her hiding place, grinning, and winked. "Bye bye!" she declared, to the onrushing swarm of paper men, before snapping her fingers. The entire floor blazed red, and a column of fire erupted beneath the familiars, tearing each of them asunder. "Haaah, I guess I should give you credit, Ando-san," she said, watching the smouldering bits of paper descend to the ground before scattering into mana, "Predicting he'd try to flood us with familiars was a pretty good guess, especially since it let me blow them up!" As the smoke cleared, however... there was no-one in sight. Just an empty car. "... I have a feeling it wasn't enough." --- The moment the first familiar had been dispatched, he'd already made his move. The floating disc was a useful item, a magical tool that allowed him to quickly ascend. to the room he desired. His magic allowed him to silently eat a hole through the wall. Bunny released only when a hand was pointed at the back of her head that something was wrong. "Attempting to set an ambush for me?" said the voice. It was deep, and by looks the man was older, in his fifties or sixties, with dark hair. "If you surrender, I'll only destroy one of your limbs each. Your compatriots have already been overwhelmed by my-" It was at that moment that the second trap was triggered, an enormous explosion rocking the building. "What?!" he cried, eyes wide. In this moment of distraction, a furious Bunny grasped him by his arm and pitched him forward, hurling him over her shoulder and across the room.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The sound of flames downstairs was the signal to shift the grip on her blade, anticipating that the target would be coming through any moment now. Then he did--just not through the door, and not in a situation that she could have struck at him. Even with all the speed in the world, the most likely outcome would have been to cut Bunny's head off first; the situation wasn't desperate enough to start sacrificing allies in the name of victory. Bunny's brains were safely not blasted across the room by an unexpected explosion, the roar of which briefly made the yakuza wonder how on Earth they'd managed to get her mother to show up here--drunk. Reality asserted itself as the Daidouji went flying, being launched by necessity in her general direction. There was no chance of getting his head from here (and she didn't wish to try splitting his brains in two) but from the angle there was a chance... The old man had wanted to remove "only one" limb each? Let's see how he liked losing an arm before even reaching the floor.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko When the sword flashed towards the old man, a shower of sparks flew up centimeters before it actually cleaved into his flesh. Some sort of defensive spell? In a surprising show of physical prowess, as he hit the floor he caught himself with one hand, sliding back along the ground and straightening. "So it seems I miscalculated," he began, "Your allies will likely be here in moments, so I must end this quickly." Reaching to his side, her gripped his sleeve and tore it off, exposing a set of markings on his arm. "Runecraft?" Bunny asked, narrowing her eyes, squaring up as she did. "Exactly," the man began, "My body houses-" Almost immediately the onmyouji was on him while he was speaking, her firsts slamming relentlessly into the defensive barrier over his body, sparks flying. It seemed she'd concluded the best way to take out his defensive field was by overwhelming it. And seconds later, she was sent flying across the room. "... Reinforcement, enhancemenet, destruction," the Daidouji continued, lowering his hand as Bunny slammed into the wall, "The runecraft on my body far exceeds the skills of a young onmyouji." And yet, one could almost see the cracks in the barrier over his chest where the black-haired thief's fists had struck...</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Talking. Too much talking, and it was giving her the slightest seconds to weigh her chances. Reinforced and enhanced--a dangerous combo, he was almost certainly stronger through magic alone than she was despite her youth and athleticism. Yet his barrier had been pounded away at and was visibly showing cracks. A single strong blow might be enough to break it--or better, pierce right through. A normal katana would probably shatter first but hers, a blade forged by youkai and named for the mountains, was as rigid and durable as an oni's club. She'd seen the demonstration. Ryuuko's plan was set and her body already moving to it, committed to victory or death. Draw on everything, magic, muscle, or otherwise. Reinforce her abilities to their maximum extent, legs and arms both, and spring close the gap. Follow through with everything she can, a perfect rising arc straight out of iaijutsu though the blade wasn't sheathed-- And pray his defences can be cut through.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko The elder Daidouji held his ground. While his barrier was cracked, he was certain it would hold up against a mere blade. He raised his fists in preparation, eyes narrowing... wait. The gleam along the edge, the specific way the metal seemed to flash... was that...?! "A yokai blade?!" he cried, attempting to backstep out of the way as swiftly as he could. But it was far, far too late. The weapon flashed downwards, and in and instant there was a sound like shattering glass as cracks spiderwebbed out from the point of impact and spread through his already-damaged barrier. It splintered, shattering to pieces and fading away into nothing. "... How foolish of me," he admonished himself, raising one hand, "To have not perceived the true nature of your weapon until it was too late. Now my defenses are lost." He waved one hand over his bare arm, and the runes suddenly blazed crimson. "I won't allow you to take this opportunity from me," he continued, as the red aura swiftly spread from the runes to coat his entire arm. It was a field spell, and anyone who knew what the Daidouji family's affinity was could swiftly surmise what the field would do to what it touched.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Shit. The barrier had gone but without extracting a price in blood. "The Yama-no-Hone-no-Tsurugi," the purple-haired girl confirmed, sliding into a defensive stance. That arm... she wasn't going to risk a blade as old and venerable as any of Masamune's work in a contest of magic and strength. Yet all that she had to do was hold him at bay until the other two arrived with a more at-range method of putting this old fool down. She would have to treat his arm in all regards like a sword--and, as a sword, avoid crossing her blade with it unless it was a last resort. She would have to adopt the attitude that any clash of weapons at best risked mutual disarmament. But here his physical advantages meant nothing; strength and speed but no defences put him in the same boat as Ryuuko. With nothing but skill, the equation could be balanced... and the heiress was perfectly confident that an old magus wasn't as proficient in hand to hand as she was. And so, dodging and ducking and never quite removing the threat of being cut and probing openings, the dance began.</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Hm. Even a yokai blade can still be destroyed," mused the old mage, arranging his fingers and thumb in a flat manner to form a blade. "Either your weapon will be eliminated first, or you will be." The following attacks were aimed entirely at the katana. His fighting style was fast and vicious, but Ryuuko's guess had been correct: The Daidouji was not as skilled in hand to hand and was not capable of avoiding her slashes as well as he would have hoped, forced to dodge in and out in a bit to make his attacks. And yet, his assault was a ferocious one. He did not have time to cast any spells that would give him a clear advantage, but he did have time to activate the runes on his other arm, spreading a red aura across it as well, his sleeve seeming to dissolve as it was exposed to the destructive energy. His attacks became faster, more furious. And yet, he still struggled to land a hit. Every time he found a moment where he could, it also placed him at far too much of a risk. It was a violent dance, one where either opponent could be slain at any second. Trails of red energy followed the Daidouji mage's slicing hands, and it's likely neither of them would realize anything else had changed in the room. But soon enough, the mage caught a whiff... of cigarette smoke. "I was wondering when you'd notice," commented Toshiko, blowing out a stream of smoke. Suspended in the air was the burning shape of a theurgic sigil, one she had carved in place with her cigarette's smoldering tip. "Ando Toshiko...!" the man's eyes widened, but it was far too late for him to act. "Accendo," said Toshiko simply. The symbol suddenly blazed a deep shade of red. Almost immediately, the old Daidouji clutched his chest, letting out a wheeze... a horrible smell erupted from his mouth, a smell unmistakably that of burning flesh. Indeed, moments later, flames seemed to leap from his throat as he staggered, clutching at his body and stumbling to the side. He was burning from the inside out. Toshiko took a drag on her cigarette. "There's not much I won't do to defend my employees, and she's a student as well," she commented, as if explaining her actions to the rapidly burning man, "You should have suspected that much." The elder Daidouji's feet hit the side of the hole he'd made his way in throw, and as flames erupted out of his chest cavity he fell. "... Haah," Toshiko let out a sigh, "Good work, Ryuuko-san. I wouldn't have been able to do that if he'd been paying attention." At around that moment, Kitty too also made her way into the room... and almost immediately ran for the unconscious Bunny.</s>
<\|description\|>Ando Toshiko * Age: 28 * Appearance: "Anyone in my employ is under my protection." Toshiko has red hair, red eyes, and pale skin. * Personality: Toshiko enjoys spending life with people she cares about, and generally makes for fairly pleasant company. However, she will change her behavior depending on the situation. When talking to employees, she is friendly, calm, and kind. When speaking with a perpetrator, for example, she makes a drastic change, approaching cruelty. In addition, it is not difficult to rouse her to anger and she has a remarkable lack of patience for someone who has taken a profession as a detective. When sufficiently angered, she will remove her glasses and and begin taking things extremely seriously. She enjoys cigarettes and seems to have something against organizing her office. Toshiko's ultimate goal is to attain immortality, as well as ensure no-one causes too many problems that interfere with having a pleasant life. Toshiko is terrible with money and spends incredibly frequently, sometimes on magical items and other times on things she simply thinks are interesting. * Abilities: Toshiko's Affinity is Fire. As such, she is highly skilled in spells relating to fire. She is capable of casting spells by "carving" symbols in the air using a lit cigarette. Notable among her spells is an Instant Ignition spell. While it requires a full rune to be "carved" in the air, it will instantly ignite a target. As Toshiko's affinity is fire, she is also skilled with spells involving "consumption", "ignition", and "destruction". In addition, she has learned spells outside of her affinity. These spells are primarily wards and illusions, which she uses to conceal the Fu Sonzai no Gensō building from the eyes of regular humans. She is also capable of self-healing spells that can heal serious injury, though not something that will cause instant or very rapid death, and she must be conscious to use them. * Weapons/Equipment: Toshiko has a great deal of cigarettes with her at almost all times. Not only does she like them, but they aid her casting. * Brief Backstory: Toshiko was born into the Ando family, a family of magi with the goal of accessing Origin of All Magic, the wellspring from which all mana extends from that contains and infinite wealth of magical knowledge, all spells ever created, that ever will be created. Early in life, Toshiko was mentored in magic by her grandfather. When she reached her late teens, she was sent to a Mage Circle in London to train. It was here that she chose to abandon her family's goal, firmly believing it to be unattainable. While her family was initially outraged by her decision and desired to kill her, they eventually decided she would simply need punishment instead. This was, in part, because Toshiko's sister had not displayed the same desire to give up. Deciding to pursue the goal of immortality, Toshiko returned to Japan and founded the Fu Sonzai no Gensō detective agency in an effort to ensure pleasant life wasn't disrupted. Also to make money.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The sound of flames downstairs was the signal to shift the grip on her blade, anticipating that the target would be coming through any moment now. Then he did--just not through the door, and not in a situation that she could have struck at him. Even with all the speed in the world, the most likely outcome would have been to cut Bunny's head off first; the situation wasn't desperate enough to start sacrificing allies in the name of victory. Bunny's brains were safely not blasted across the room by an unexpected explosion, the roar of which briefly made the yakuza wonder how on Earth they'd managed to get her mother to show up here--drunk. Reality asserted itself as the Daidouji went flying, being launched by necessity in her general direction. There was no chance of getting his head from here (and she didn't wish to try splitting his brains in two) but from the angle there was a chance... The old man had wanted to remove "only one" limb each? Let's see how he liked losing an arm before even reaching the floor.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko When the sword flashed towards the old man, a shower of sparks flew up centimeters before it actually cleaved into his flesh. Some sort of defensive spell? In a surprising show of physical prowess, as he hit the floor he caught himself with one hand, sliding back along the ground and straightening. "So it seems I miscalculated," he began, "Your allies will likely be here in moments, so I must end this quickly." Reaching to his side, her gripped his sleeve and tore it off, exposing a set of markings on his arm. "Runecraft?" Bunny asked, narrowing her eyes, squaring up as she did. "Exactly," the man began, "My body houses-" Almost immediately the onmyouji was on him while he was speaking, her firsts slamming relentlessly into the defensive barrier over his body, sparks flying. It seemed she'd concluded the best way to take out his defensive field was by overwhelming it. And seconds later, she was sent flying across the room. "... Reinforcement, enhancemenet, destruction," the Daidouji continued, lowering his hand as Bunny slammed into the wall, "The runecraft on my body far exceeds the skills of a young onmyouji." And yet, one could almost see the cracks in the barrier over his chest where the black-haired thief's fists had struck...</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Talking. Too much talking, and it was giving her the slightest seconds to weigh her chances. Reinforced and enhanced--a dangerous combo, he was almost certainly stronger through magic alone than she was despite her youth and athleticism. Yet his barrier had been pounded away at and was visibly showing cracks. A single strong blow might be enough to break it--or better, pierce right through. A normal katana would probably shatter first but hers, a blade forged by youkai and named for the mountains, was as rigid and durable as an oni's club. She'd seen the demonstration. Ryuuko's plan was set and her body already moving to it, committed to victory or death. Draw on everything, magic, muscle, or otherwise. Reinforce her abilities to their maximum extent, legs and arms both, and spring close the gap. Follow through with everything she can, a perfect rising arc straight out of iaijutsu though the blade wasn't sheathed-- And pray his defences can be cut through.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko The elder Daidouji held his ground. While his barrier was cracked, he was certain it would hold up against a mere blade. He raised his fists in preparation, eyes narrowing... wait. The gleam along the edge, the specific way the metal seemed to flash... was that...?! "A yokai blade?!" he cried, attempting to backstep out of the way as swiftly as he could. But it was far, far too late. The weapon flashed downwards, and in and instant there was a sound like shattering glass as cracks spiderwebbed out from the point of impact and spread through his already-damaged barrier. It splintered, shattering to pieces and fading away into nothing. "... How foolish of me," he admonished himself, raising one hand, "To have not perceived the true nature of your weapon until it was too late. Now my defenses are lost." He waved one hand over his bare arm, and the runes suddenly blazed crimson. "I won't allow you to take this opportunity from me," he continued, as the red aura swiftly spread from the runes to coat his entire arm. It was a field spell, and anyone who knew what the Daidouji family's affinity was could swiftly surmise what the field would do to what it touched.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Shit. The barrier had gone but without extracting a price in blood. "The Yama-no-Hone-no-Tsurugi," the purple-haired girl confirmed, sliding into a defensive stance. That arm... she wasn't going to risk a blade as old and venerable as any of Masamune's work in a contest of magic and strength. Yet all that she had to do was hold him at bay until the other two arrived with a more at-range method of putting this old fool down. She would have to treat his arm in all regards like a sword--and, as a sword, avoid crossing her blade with it unless it was a last resort. She would have to adopt the attitude that any clash of weapons at best risked mutual disarmament. But here his physical advantages meant nothing; strength and speed but no defences put him in the same boat as Ryuuko. With nothing but skill, the equation could be balanced... and the heiress was perfectly confident that an old magus wasn't as proficient in hand to hand as she was. And so, dodging and ducking and never quite removing the threat of being cut and probing openings, the dance began.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Hm. Even a yokai blade can still be destroyed," mused the old mage, arranging his fingers and thumb in a flat manner to form a blade. "Either your weapon will be eliminated first, or you will be." The following attacks were aimed entirely at the katana. His fighting style was fast and vicious, but Ryuuko's guess had been correct: The Daidouji was not as skilled in hand to hand and was not capable of avoiding her slashes as well as he would have hoped, forced to dodge in and out in a bit to make his attacks. And yet, his assault was a ferocious one. He did not have time to cast any spells that would give him a clear advantage, but he did have time to activate the runes on his other arm, spreading a red aura across it as well, his sleeve seeming to dissolve as it was exposed to the destructive energy. His attacks became faster, more furious. And yet, he still struggled to land a hit. Every time he found a moment where he could, it also placed him at far too much of a risk. It was a violent dance, one where either opponent could be slain at any second. Trails of red energy followed the Daidouji mage's slicing hands, and it's likely neither of them would realize anything else had changed in the room. But soon enough, the mage caught a whiff... of cigarette smoke. "I was wondering when you'd notice," commented Toshiko, blowing out a stream of smoke. Suspended in the air was the burning shape of a theurgic sigil, one she had carved in place with her cigarette's smoldering tip. "Ando Toshiko...!" the man's eyes widened, but it was far too late for him to act. "Accendo," said Toshiko simply. The symbol suddenly blazed a deep shade of red. Almost immediately, the old Daidouji clutched his chest, letting out a wheeze... a horrible smell erupted from his mouth, a smell unmistakably that of burning flesh. Indeed, moments later, flames seemed to leap from his throat as he staggered, clutching at his body and stumbling to the side. He was burning from the inside out. Toshiko took a drag on her cigarette. "There's not much I won't do to defend my employees, and she's a student as well," she commented, as if explaining her actions to the rapidly burning man, "You should have suspected that much." The elder Daidouji's feet hit the side of the hole he'd made his way in throw, and as flames erupted out of his chest cavity he fell. "... Haah," Toshiko let out a sigh, "Good work, Ryuuko-san. I wouldn't have been able to do that if he'd been paying attention." At around that moment, Kitty too also made her way into the room... and almost immediately ran for the unconscious Bunny.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The fighting was exciting, there was no denying that. One slip up meant death and with that on the line... ah, the blood was singing in her ears. Every step made deliberately to a tempo driven by the beating of her heart, every cut one with her breath. Despite her best intent, Ryuuko couldn't avoid cracking a grin as the old man produced another one of those tricks, making the other arm every bit as deadly--well, two could play at that game, and the knife took pride of place in her left hand. She toyed for an instant with sacrificing the tantō, it wasn't anything more than a traditionally forged blade. Force one arm out of position, lunge in for the killing blow... but it was too risky and from the corner of her eye, she took in her mentor arriving on the scene, cigarette lit. Step by step as she continued the dance, angling the fight back and away from the door. Was he not attuned to the battlefield? Was he so single-minded in his offence that the smoke was beyond him? He was. A shame, a series of feints would have been able to open him right up. "Some day soon, I will have to learn something more akin to that. A fight where I cannot get within striking distance of my foe is exciting but I wish for alternatives all the same," the heiress said, sheathing her blades, "I take it we return the urn, now?"</s>	<\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Indeed, let's get it back quickly," Toshiko nodded in asset, arms folded as she approached the vase in question. Thankfully it hadn't been activated. That could have made the ensuing fight quite a bit more difficult, to say the least. If it absorbed mana, that meant that it would have been difficult to use spells at all in its presence if it was activated. Still, it was best they packed it away and got it back to its rightful owners as soon as they could. "Do you care about anything other then that stupid vase?!" cried Kitty, suddenly. Toshiko glanced towards her, and noted that Bunny still seemed to be unconscious. "She's still breathing, isn't she?" Toshiko asked. As if on cue, there was a low groan from the bigger of the two thieves.</s>
<\|description\|>Miura Ryuuko * Age: 24 * Appearance: Her practically universal attire. Aside from that, Ryuuko is unusually tall for a Japanese woman, and the kimono only somewhat succeeds in hiding her surprisingly ample curves. What cannot be seen is the clearly defined muscles the girl has--nor the sprawling tattoo that prohibits her from going many places in Japan less dressed. * Personality: Superficially, Ryuuko appears to be a polite and congenial girl, mild in attitudes to a fault and a prime example of what every Japanese lady should aspire to be, by tradition. It isn't a fully manufactured façade; she places a high importance on her duty to her family and the skills demanded of a former head. It simply happens that one cannot be the future head of a yakuza family without some of that civility and good nature being a deliberate manufacture. Indeed, although she finds killing to be a matter of last resort, this is hardly from some moral consideration--all things considered, deaths attract suspicion and waste a potentially valuable resource. This affected attitude is more than just a social convention, it's a method for suppressing strong desires to act at the other end of the spectrum--violent, brash, and hedonistic. Though she denies the impulses and refuses to act on them, she still takes pleasure in fights and keeps a very tight reign on her temper. Maybe it would be easier to simply express herself, but that would cause a loss of face even before the trouble itself started up. Her likes and dislikes are simple: she dislikes shoes, hates roller-coasters and Toshiko's driving, and likes both sake and traditional styling in copious amounts. Outside of this and practising her skills, Ryuuko finds that little catches her interest and tends to be blatantly apathetic to it. * Abilities: Ryuuko's first and foremost skill is her swordsmanship. Without this, her offerings to Fu Sonzai no Gensō would be completely non-existent. She has the ability to win tournaments with ease, if she would restrict herself to using the correct forms, but finds them to be completely wasteful. Where other children had friends or hobbies, Ryuuko had training with the blade and for her future role. Predominantly accomplished fighting with the single long blade, she is also versed with a shorter sword, a dagger, paired blades, and iaijutsu. Rounding out the skill set--at her mother's insistence she hone all the skills of a samurai--she's also got basic competence with the spear and bow. Magically, she is a novice relying on Toshiko's training. Though an affinity for Void is an interesting, albeit highly negative, one with which to work, her presence at the agency is more for her own magical education than to provide her services--she has no need of the job. Her sole magical ability is the very most basic reinforcement. Her physique, impressive as it is, doesn't come from the same sort of diligent training most would have to put into it. Though her denial of the impulses that come with her heritage prevents her from benefiting in most manners, being a hanyou still causes her to retain a far better figure in most regards with only her normal practice. She also has a driving license. * Equipment: Unless she wishes to owe her father special favours and call in her family's resources, Ryuuko has a simple tanto hidden in her obi and an heirloom sword. Forged by youkai, her father passed it down early as it does not suit his fighting style, and the blade is near impervious to any form of damage. It goes by the name of Yama-no-Hone-no-Tsurugi, which hints somewhat at what might have gone into manufacturing it... * Brief Backstory: On one side of her family, she claims descent from the original Miura, and through them back to the Taira and Minamoto, and from there all the way back to imperial lines. On her mother's side she claims descent from... well, her mother claims to be the Shuten-Dōji but there's no way of verifying that. This is simply the most pronounced the family's mixed involvement in mundane and supernatural affairs, making her the first heir in the family with such direct involvement in both sides, though all have been raised in the knowledge that a supernatural world exists. However, she doesn't depart from tradition to not train the heir in magic or the supernatural until their basic education has completed--sufficient to run a major operation which works in the criminal underground on both sides of the border. Being the heir to a yakuza clan with such a traditional background has its advantages, even though it harmed her ability to make friends or the like. With private tutors and no distractions, she graduated from the top of her class and entered into Todai, studying classical Japanese literature and learning how to manage business affairs in her own time. It was upon graduation that it was considered time for her to embrace her magical heritage, with her father seeking out someone willing to train one with such a materialistic and unsavoury background in exchange for money or--in this case--her services to the agency. This delay in training is implemented for practical reasons, as any family head of theirs will need a wide set of skills to thrive in the difficult environment, but also from a belief that their affinity will show through stronger and manifest efficiently if left alone to adulthood. With Ryuuko's apathy to that beyond her narrow interests, it might be accurate indeed.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Downstairs, the agency's current sole employee was lounging on a saggy and faded couch, bare legs draped over one armrest. Its out of the way spot was perfect for Ryuuko's uses: good sight of the staircase if Toshiko came down, a sight of the door should some customer miraculously find the building, and in a straight line from a window. Even in her brief time here so far, the beaten-up couch had shown to be a wonderfully warm spot on a sunny day. Entirely unlike today. The thick air spoke of rain and a grey pallor hung over everything. The heiress had turned on the lights, and resolved once again to get a better lampshade for Toshiko's seemingly endless supply of incandescent bulbs, before taking her usual spot and reading through everything she'd so far learned about the way magic worked. It wasn't very encouraging reading, at least with her affinity in mind: all the simple demonstrations seemed to involve actively doing something. From the get-go, she was disadvantaged in even doing that. No lighting a candle, no breeze through the hair... not without more work. She sighed, putting the binder aside and falling back. A sound from the stairs caught Ryuuko's attention and she sat up again, looking in Toshiko's direction, "Tea? You're earlier than normal."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko paused for only a moment when she saw the girl lying on her couch. Ah, her... currently single employee, and rather ironically part of an organized crime family. However, that was not the sort of crime that the redheaded mage had formed this agency in order to counteract. Besides, she was hardly about to protest at being employed to teach someone magic, especially if it allowed her to have assistance on cases. She eyed the tea for only a moment before responding. "I think I'd enjoy a cup of tea," she said, simply, before putting her cigarette in her mouth and taking another long drag. After a moment, she took it out, and the smoke curled into the air. Ah, such a grey, dreary day... not at all reflective of the relative optimism that had risen in the woman's heart. After all, she had a case, at last. Funds were running particularly thin... "But aside from that," she continued, raising the case file, "We've got a new case. They've been in contact since last night. It's a theft, and they're pretty eager to get us down there." She offered the file to the yakuza princess.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Certain parts of Toshiko were more notable than others but they were quickly ignored through a veil of professionalism. Reading the same things so much was boring, even if it had the potential to reshape her skills entirely. Even the ritual of making tea, brought from a fine art to a simple, crass process of making a drink, was a welcome respite from trying to work out the "simplest expression of your affinity": what was simple about an absence? Ryuuko swung her legs off the couch and set the water to boil, smoothing down today's simpler, green kimono whilst waiting. They had a case? That was a welcome development, since she'd always expected a detective agency to be more interesting. The gaps between cases were certainly teaching her a childhood's worth of lessons on being lazy. It was almost disappointing that it was only a theft... The detective offered her a file whilst the tea was starting to brew and she glanced through it, noting the oddities. She placed it on a table before removing the leaves and handing the cup over, then looked again in more detail. Stolen without a trace... "If the security was defeated without being disabled, then only someone who knew the security intimately could be responsible. I expect a family member or someone in their employ, as no spy with enough skill would lower themselves to mere thievery," the heiress stated, her own cup clasped between two hands.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko took a sip of her tea, and decided to elaborate a bit more on some matters that the case file didn't exactly clarify. "Now, I'm not sure if you're aware of the history of the Daidouji family, but I'll give a quick rundown just in case you're not. The Daidouji Mage family has splintered into many, many branches. Every single last one of these branches hates the other. And when I say hates, I mean backstabbing and murder aren't out of the realm of possibility when it comes to one branch to another. Our suspect may be the member of another branch," she explained. It was certainly the case. Toshiko had once met one of the Daidouji heirs. She was a gorgeous girl, short, deep black hair. She had told Toshiko her ultimate goal was to kill her uncle, who had apparently stolen her mother's magic grimoire. She didn't know if the girl had succeeded, but regardless of if she had or not it was rather clear to Toshiko what kind of family she was dealing with. The fierce rivalries between each of the branches had only grown more and more violent as time went on. Ah, such was the Daidouji. "Your guess at the perpetrator being a family member is hardly an unlikely one," she concluded, taking another sip of tea.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Ryuuko's eyes narrowed as the family was described. Old enough to have splintered repeatedly and yet every branch was claiming equal importance... yet owing none of the loyalty to one another that such a description would suggest. To her, someone that placed her family's wishes before anything else, such a self-interested approach to the rest of one's relatives was abhorrent. Well, maybe the Miura's lack of fragmentation helped--for instance, she had no siblings--but to intentionally set out to kill one another as a matter of course... This wasn't her detective agency, however, and dealing with unsavoury sorts was part of her education. No matter that such a group offended her sensibilities, Ryuuko would stomach them for the sake of their contract. If any information might present itself that might aid her father... well, she'd ask Toshiko when the time came. The girl took another drink of the cooling tea, looking once more at her teacher: "If this family cannot trust their kin, I hope that we shall not rely on their hospitality. I will be bringing my sword but there is little I can do against magic."</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Trust their kin? My, the prospect of that was... interesting. Toshiko's own family had once attempted to murder her, simply because she rejected what she saw as a fool's errand. Even now, as her sister's efforts had cooled their rage, they still sought to punish her for what they saw as a betrayal. Even her sister thought she needed some kind of punishment... and for what? It wasn't as if she was the one who had been cheated out of learning ancient magic from the time of Babylon. It wasn't as if she was the one who continued to believe in an impossibility. Humans could quite simply no longer obtain the Origin of All. That bloody ritual that promised the origin to the one who claimed the white night was nothing less then the act of fools. Toshiko took another sip of tea. "It's not as if I'm unfamiliar with an untrustworthy family," the redheaded woman commented, simply, in an off-hand fashion, "In any case, we should probably get moving. The sooner we reach them and solve this case, the sooner we can get paid."</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko The swordswoman set aside her remaining tea and began preparing to go out. It wouldn't make sense to visit a crime scene unarmed and unshod, and she always made sure to have another knife as backup in case things got out of hand. Most people would let their guard down if they saw someone visibly disarmed, no matter how supernatural. It was as she was picking up the sword, now properly dressed for going outdoors--not that the addition of socks was really that large of a change--that the inevitable downside of Toshiko deciding 'the sooner we reach them' reared its head. Particularly because speed was not of the essence to Ryuuko, as the money made no difference to her... "Ah, Toshiko-san, could you possibly allow me to drive?"</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko "Ah?" As Toshiko headed for the door, she glanced back over her shoulder. Ryuuko wanted to drive? Why was that? After all, Toshiko felt that she always made incredibly decent time when driving. They always arrived far under the projected time of arrival, didn't they? Of course. So what was the reason for Ryuuko had for wanting to drive? "Why do you ask, Ryuuko-kun?" Toshiko answered the question with one of her own.</s> <\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko It amazed Ryuuko that Toshiko couldn't see how bad her driving was. Even magi didn't seem to be so insular that "everyone else in the world considers doing it that badly to be a terrible idea" and yet Toshiko had gained a car and used it for years without the slightest bit of trouble. More than her magical abilities, it was her ability to get away with such driving that was truly frightening. But that couldn't be said to her face. "I believe that we might make a better impression if we arrive in less of a visible hurry." And if she didn't arrive suppressing the urge to throw up.</s> <\|message\|>Ando Toshiko Toshiko was rather quick with a counterpoint of her own. "Ah, but if it looks like we just took our time, wouldn't that make the clients believe we aren't taking things seriously?" she asked. Toshiko was, in general, rather pleased with her driving abilities. She never hit anything, she didn't think anyone was in danger, and the police never got after her. All in all, it was pretty good for someone with no driver's licence who had never taken a single lesson. Self-taught driving was just as good as anything else, right?</s>	<\|message\|>Miura Ryuuko Such a counter-argument was easily dismissed: "Arriving within a time obeying all speed limits would have us looking punctual. Rushing would make us appear desperate whilst costing more in fuel." Maybe the monetary argument would sway Toshiko into letting someone else drive for once? Looking up to see near miss after near miss... if she could find where Toshiko's keys were kept, she would have tried to bribe or blackmail her employer into taking proper lessons.</s>