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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"How the heck was I supposed to know?!" Ghent moved back, flinching at the brandished sword. He hated it when Elayra wielded anything sharp. Which was always. "You guys should've warned me!"
At the mention of allergies, he cocked a brow and sniffled once to make sure his nose wasn't running. It wasn't, but his throat still felt scratchy after hauling William around. Dumb cat.
"J-just calm down, okay?! Maybe he won't remember what happened," Ghent offered weakly, his troubled gaze flickering to the unmoving figure. The mere thought of Drust waking sent a cold shiver down his spine.
Just as Ghent started to wonder if they were better off leaving the man, Elayra mentioned the Safe Zone. The name itself was like a breath of fresh air, and he nodded to show he understood and wholeheartedly agreed.
"I like that idea," Ghent told her, watching as she relieved Drust of his katana. The boy was foolish enough to hope he would be given the weapon, but it was packed away into the very bag he envied.
"What about me?" Ghent hated being unarmed, especially with the possibility of Drust waking up. "Don't I get something?"
As if to answer his question, Elayra had tossed him her pack.
That's not what I meant. Ghent caught the pack by one of the straps. When in hand, he was surprised by how light it was compared to what he carried.
Slipping out of his backpack, Ghent stiffened when the threat reached his ears.
"I won't lose it," he mumbled quickly, irked that Elayra thought him to be that incompetent.
Dropping the backpack to the ground with a soft thud, Ghent crouched down next to it and brought Elayra's pack with him. Until that moment, he hadn't realized how badly he was trembling. His hands shook uncontrollably as he found the flap, pulling the material back to allow him a glimpse inside.
To Ghent's disappointment, there wasn't much to see. The opening of pack resembled the mouth of a cave; dark and uninviting. He was tempted to try getting a better look, but didn't dare with Elayra standing a few feet away.
Still shaking, Ghent pulled his backpack closer and attempted to shove it inside of the pack. The grinning skulls seemed to taunt him as his efforts were in vain. The backpack was too wide.
Undaunted, Ghent unzipped the backpack and shuffled a few items around. After that was done, he set the backpack on the ground and pushed down on it to help flatten the contents.
Satisfied that the appearance was slimmer, Ghent tried again. It took some effort and a bit of twisting and turning, but the pack finally accepted his belongings.
"Well, that's done..." Ghent didn't have time to be amazed, he was too busy worrying about Drust waking up. He slung Elayra's pack over his shoulder, looking disapprovingly at the pack she swapped hers for. Rather than comment, he turned his attention to the knight. Moving him wasn't going to be easy.
"Er..." Ghent glanced sideways at the girl. "You wouldn't happen to have a spell that would make him a little lighter, would you?"</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra snorted when Ghent asked about a weapon. She watched him impatiently as he struggled to put his backpack in hers. She gripped the bridge of her nose and took a few deep breaths, as she had seen Drust do to try calming himself, to reassure herself the negative voices in her head were wrong.
"It's not a matter of him remembering." Her voice came out strained from the effort to keep it even. "He wakes up outside a Safe Zone, and I guarantee it'll be the Curse in control from the get-go. Not him. No ifs, ands, or buts." She looked back up at him as he shifted the items around inside his pack to reshape it, wasting precious time. She glanced nervously to Drust, his back slumped once more against the tree, but he remained stationary.
Her gaze fell to Ghent's shaking hands. To his open, uncontrolled fear. She took another deep breath.
This isn't his world, she reminded herself, trying to ignore the quiet, He's going to get us killed, that crept into the back of her mind.
"Hurry up!" she barked, harsher than necessary, her own anxiety ever rising with her doubts.
At long last, Ghent managed to combine the packs. With his inside, it weighed a little under a pound more than it had before.
"No!" she snapped, her lips curling up in anger at Ghent's last question. "No magic! Not on him. Knights are weak against it, and a stink worm's better at controlling it than you."
Her back stiffened and her attention snapped behind her, sure she had heard a rustle, her hand instinctively moving to her sword. But there was nothing there. Nothing your average human could see, at least. All the same, the hair on the back of her neck prickled, sensing eyes on them that her other senses could not find.
"Grab his legs." She nodded jerkily toward Drust's legs as she moved his upper body so she could wrap her arms under his armpits. His hooded cowl bunched beneath her grasp, and his head lulled near her shoulder.
She shuddered, hating how lifeless he felt. The reassuring rise and fall of his chest was the only indication he still lived. Fourteen years of fighting against the Sorceress' men and magic, and it took one day, one attack from an inexperienced boy to knock him down.
She grit her teeth, her grip on him unintentionally tightening. "And keep an eye out for the tichari. Ghost foxes. They're our only chance at finding a Safe Zone."</s>
|
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"Okay, okay! I was only asking." Grimacing at the stink worm comment, Ghent stepped around Elayra and approached Drust. This was the first real look Ghent had of the man. Before it was either too dark to see, or he was too intimidated to stare.
Ghent's heart thudded in his ears as he studied the motionless figure. Seeing Drust without his katana was unusual, but it brought him little comfort. The knight appeared perfectly capable of killing them both, with or without his blade.
Seeing Elayra turn in his peripheral vision, Ghent's breath caught in his throat. He looked over her head and grit his teeth together, refusing to repeat the same mistake twice.
Magic will make it worse, he scolded himself, or it could save you, the second thought scared him. It scared him because he was truly tempted.
Thankfully, nothing was there. Not that it meant much when ghosts were involved.
Wishing to avoid being snapped at again, Ghent followed Elayra's newest order. He slid his hands underneath Drust's legs, lifting once he had a good grip. Drust wasn't as heavy as he expected, although this was only a portion of his weight. Ghent doubted he would get far trying to move him on his own.
"Great," Ghent huffed, readjusting his hold. The forest wasn't limited to human ghosts, now he had to worry about the ghosts of animals too. He waited for Elayra to get into position, but then he realized something. Not only was Elayra taking the heavier looking pack, she was lifting Drust from the heavier side.
"We should switch," Ghent told the girl, his expression serious. "He's lighter from this end, and..." his eyes lingered on her shoulder for a split second, but he stopped himself from voicing his concerns. He knew better than to point out she was still wounded.</s>
|
<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra snorted when Ghent asked about a weapon. She watched him impatiently as he struggled to put his backpack in hers. She gripped the bridge of her nose and took a few deep breaths, as she had seen Drust do to try calming himself, to reassure herself the negative voices in her head were wrong.
"It's not a matter of him remembering." Her voice came out strained from the effort to keep it even. "He wakes up outside a Safe Zone, and I guarantee it'll be the Curse in control from the get-go. Not him. No ifs, ands, or buts." She looked back up at him as he shifted the items around inside his pack to reshape it, wasting precious time. She glanced nervously to Drust, his back slumped once more against the tree, but he remained stationary.
Her gaze fell to Ghent's shaking hands. To his open, uncontrolled fear. She took another deep breath.
This isn't his world, she reminded herself, trying to ignore the quiet, He's going to get us killed, that crept into the back of her mind.
"Hurry up!" she barked, harsher than necessary, her own anxiety ever rising with her doubts.
At long last, Ghent managed to combine the packs. With his inside, it weighed a little under a pound more than it had before.
"No!" she snapped, her lips curling up in anger at Ghent's last question. "No magic! Not on him. Knights are weak against it, and a stink worm's better at controlling it than you."
Her back stiffened and her attention snapped behind her, sure she had heard a rustle, her hand instinctively moving to her sword. But there was nothing there. Nothing your average human could see, at least. All the same, the hair on the back of her neck prickled, sensing eyes on them that her other senses could not find.
"Grab his legs." She nodded jerkily toward Drust's legs as she moved his upper body so she could wrap her arms under his armpits. His hooded cowl bunched beneath her grasp, and his head lulled near her shoulder.
She shuddered, hating how lifeless he felt. The reassuring rise and fall of his chest was the only indication he still lived. Fourteen years of fighting against the Sorceress' men and magic, and it took one day, one attack from an inexperienced boy to knock him down.
She grit her teeth, her grip on him unintentionally tightening. "And keep an eye out for the tichari. Ghost foxes. They're our only chance at finding a Safe Zone."</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"Okay, okay! I was only asking." Grimacing at the stink worm comment, Ghent stepped around Elayra and approached Drust. This was the first real look Ghent had of the man. Before it was either too dark to see, or he was too intimidated to stare.
Ghent's heart thudded in his ears as he studied the motionless figure. Seeing Drust without his katana was unusual, but it brought him little comfort. The knight appeared perfectly capable of killing them both, with or without his blade.
Seeing Elayra turn in his peripheral vision, Ghent's breath caught in his throat. He looked over her head and grit his teeth together, refusing to repeat the same mistake twice.
Magic will make it worse, he scolded himself, or it could save you, the second thought scared him. It scared him because he was truly tempted.
Thankfully, nothing was there. Not that it meant much when ghosts were involved.
Wishing to avoid being snapped at again, Ghent followed Elayra's newest order. He slid his hands underneath Drust's legs, lifting once he had a good grip. Drust wasn't as heavy as he expected, although this was only a portion of his weight. Ghent doubted he would get far trying to move him on his own.
"Great," Ghent huffed, readjusting his hold. The forest wasn't limited to human ghosts, now he had to worry about the ghosts of animals too. He waited for Elayra to get into position, but then he realized something. Not only was Elayra taking the heavier looking pack, she was lifting Drust from the heavier side.
"We should switch," Ghent told the girl, his expression serious. "He's lighter from this end, and..." his eyes lingered on her shoulder for a split second, but he stopped himself from voicing his concerns. He knew better than to point out she was still wounded.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra's back stiffened. She focused on Ghent, doing her best to ignore the phantom wind that had decided to pick up once more. It toyed with a couple free strands of her debris-littered hair. A faint whisper floated to them on it, its words indecipherable. Whatever reprieve Ghent's magic use had provided, was fading.
Elayra carefully timed standing with Ghent. Though Drust's looser clothes hid them, there was no mistaking the hard musculature beneath. As she had expected, his deadweight was not as severe between the two of them. At the least, he would be movable. All the same, between the pack and Drust, a pain flared in her shoulder, reminding her of the abuse it had recently received.
She tried to hide a grimace, but failed. Drust dipped slightly. She ground her teeth and readjusted her hold, lessening the burden on her right arm. Alas, Ghent noticed.
Why is it he always notices what he shouldn't? she thought bitterly.
She opened her mouth to snap out, 'No. Stop wasting daylight,' but the irritating throb remaining in her shoulder stopped her. She looked aside to the ground with a heavy exhale through her teeth and nose.
"Fine," she bit grudgingly instead. It sounded as if the word itself was painful to say.
As much as she hated it, he was right. Just the thought created a sour taste in her mouth. She carefully lowered Drust back to the forest floor. Not looking up at him, she stepped to swap places with Ghent. "But be quick about it."</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent tensed underneath the chill of wind. He bit his bottom lip, his grip on Drust tightening.
It's just a trick, he used Elayra's words to reassure himself, desperate for his inner voice to drown out the whisper he heard drift so dangerously close. A harmless, little trick.
When the wind died down, Ghent exhaled with a weak sounding sigh. He would never get used to Hollow Forest.
Fighting to keep his body from trembling all over, Ghent turned his attention back to Elayra. He guessed she would snap at him, but she didn't. To his shock, and perhaps to the shock of any ghosts secretly present, she agreed.
The look of disbelief on Ghent's face was almost comical. He was so used to bickering and being turned down, he didn't know how to react. Unwilling to give her time to change her mind, he set Drust down and moved to swap places with her.
"As you may remember, I used to work at a book store." While Ghent spoke, he slid his hands underneath Drust's armpits and hoisted him up from the ground. As expected, the knight's top half was heavier.
"Drust weighs about as much as a shipment of books," Ghent rambled, as if she would care. The forest's silence disturbed him. Talking was the only thing he could do to cancel out the quiet.
After becoming satisfied with his grip, Ghent nodded to show Elayra he was ready to move.
Keeping his eyes and ears alert for the slightest movement or sound, he did his best to match Elayra's pace. He couldn't see her feet, he could only feel each time she took a step.
"A shipment of hardcover books, though...definitely hardcover," Ghent mumbled, readjusting his hands so they locked across Drust's chest. The last thing he wanted was to drop their guardian.</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
First Elayra would step, and then Ghent would. Eventually, their steps fell into a predictable, repetitive pattern.
Ghent kept a diligent eye on their surroundings, craning his head back every so often to see if a tichari happened to be trailing along behind them. The irregular flickers of light tricked him several times, but nothing was there. His efforts were in vain.
The teenagers continued to trudge ahead. The silence offered a void for conversation, but Ghent didn't say a word. His mention of Frank's Book Barn had him thinking back to the world he left behind.
I should've said goodbye. He could no longer focus on their task. His thoughts blinded him to his surroundings. The moan of a ghost sounded dangerously close, prompting him to quicken his pace. They'll never know what happened to me.
It wasn't long before Ghent's muscles began to protest against Drust's weight. His arms tingled past the elbow, a staticky feeling soon followed by numbness. Slowly but surely, the knight slipped closer to the ground.
Grumbling something unintelligible about books, Ghent braced his knee against Drust's upper back. He fixed his arms around him again, hoping to prevent the man from hitting the ground. For a while, he managed. Drust slipped again.
Finally, Ghent had to admit defeat. He needed a break.
"I t-think I need a sec," he announced, startled by how loud yet pathetic his words sounded. He couldn't seem to master the art of keeping his voice down, nor could he hide how terrified he was to be in such a horrible place.
Thankfully, Elayra didn't deny him a moment to rest. Relieved of his burden, Ghent gave his arms a chance to regain feeling. He remained put, silent as he observed Elayra pace. The pacing wasn't of someone who was impatient, but nervous.
Shivering involuntarily, Ghent adverted his gaze. Elayra was scared, and so was he.
---
After what felt an eternity to Ghent, he felt Elayra stop. Without being told, he eased Drust to the ground and plopped down to sit alongside him. Ghent was sore, tired, and discouraged. Not a tichari in sight.
As Elayra demanded his attention, he sat up straighter, shoulders slumping at the news. He didn't want to imagine Hollow Forest at night. Daytime was bad enough.
"That's just great," he sighed, his eyes following along the line of looming trees. They looked like all the others. If not for the vines on the ground, he would have thought they traveled in a perfect circle. "Isn't there some way to bribe one of them into coming out?"
Before he got an answer, Drust seemed to stir. Fearing for his life, Ghent scrambled to regain his footing and practically dove behind Elayra for protection.
"He seriously needs to stop doing that!" he hissed, peering around his human shield. Drust didn't seem far from waking up. "That's the sixth time! I've counted!" He did indeed count, for every time Drust threatened to move, Ghent felt himself age ten years.
Shaking like a leaf, he turned to face Elayra as she approached. As usual, the girl held something sharp, but this time the sharp end was pointed away from him. Slow to understand what the gesture meant, Ghent waited for clarification.
"W-wait, really?" Despite his earlier request for a weapon, Ghent didn't actually believe he would be given one, and definitely not one from Elayra's personal arsenal. He looked the weapon over with curiosity, reaching to accept it.
"Why the heck would I try to kill him?" Ghent drew his hand away, aghast. Even in self defense, he couldn't imagine killing the knight. He didn't think himself mentally or physically capable.
His eyes shifted back to Drust. He could have sworn he saw him stir for the seventh time.
"L-look, I promise, okay?" Impatient and panicked, Ghent motioned for her to surrender the dagger. "I won't hurt myself, and I won't kill him. I swear!"</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra snorted at Ghent's question about trying to kill Drust. "Because you're a featherhead, Featherhead," she snapped, her fear forming bitterly on her tongue.
She flinched when a flash of light sparked to life only a yard away. A wicked chortle reached her ears, sending a chill down her spine. An unnerving electric sensation tickled her skin, making the hairs on her arm prickle. The spirits moved ever closer.
Her head snapped toward Drust when his body stiffened and shifted subtly.
Despite his reassurance and hasty promise, she stared at Ghent a moment more, her eyes narrowed. Finally, she nodded and relinquished the dagger to him.
"'Bribe them out,'" she muttered at the ridiculous suggestion as she returned her full attention to the greater threat at the moment. The spirits could wait. They still had a bit of time before they became more than a nuisance. "Think I have the ghost of a rabbit hidden somewhere, do…?"
Elayra's head raised slightly as exactly who she was traveling with struck her. Or, rather, what. She scowled. How could I be so stupid?
She slapped her free hand to her forehead, disgust at herself in her eyes. "You're a vinifcium!" She looked to Ghent, glowering. "You can communicate with the Spiritayum."
Drust would've thought of that hours ago! She glanced nervously to the surrounding trees, the darkness gathering with alarming swiftness.
Her grip on her sword tightened as Drust exhaled heavily. "And the tichari are messengers of the Spiritayum. You can bribe them out!"</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
At long last, a weapon. Ghent could scarcely believe it when he felt the weight of the dagger in his hand. Had he not been so afraid, his face may have lit up with excitement. As it was, he inspected it, only half satisfied.
Brows furrowed, Ghent held the dagger out at arms length and brought it back to his side. He did this twice, as if measuring the distance necessary to stab Drust.
"Don't you have anything else?" Ghent wasn't usually so ungrateful, but he had his own skin to think about. The blade was very short, and that meant he had to be very close if he needed to defend himself.
"Don't get me wrong, it's nice," he turned the dagger over, examining the blade in a sliver of light peeking through the trees. "But it's kinda small, don'tcha think?"
Elayra smacking her own head wasn't quite the reaction he expected. Ghent shifted his weight to his other foot, annoyed she should repeat what the ghosts chose to taunt him with. Life was a lot easier when he was a human.
"Pretty sure we covered this earlier, Blondie." Grumbling, Ghent poked at a dust mote with the dagger. It bobbed along its chosen path, bringing Elayra back into his line of vision again.
"I can what?" Ghent balked. His list of possible skills grew stranger by the second. Elayra seemed determined this was possible, so he went along with it. She had been right with everything else, he had no reason to doubt her now.
"O-okay...well...how do I do that?" Ghent's voice shook with uncertainty. Hearing Drust's heavy breath, he angled himself to keep the knight in sight. "Is there a spell, or...I don't have to meditate for this, do I?"</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
At long last, a weapon. Ghent could scarcely believe it when he felt the weight of the dagger in his hand. Had he not been so afraid, his face may have lit up with excitement. As it was, he inspected it, only half satisfied.
Brows furrowed, Ghent held the dagger out at arms length and brought it back to his side. He did this twice, as if measuring the distance necessary to stab Drust.
"Don't you have anything else?" Ghent wasn't usually so ungrateful, but he had his own skin to think about. The blade was very short, and that meant he had to be very close if he needed to defend himself.
"Don't get me wrong, it's nice," he turned the dagger over, examining the blade in a sliver of light peeking through the trees. "But it's kinda small, don'tcha think?"
Elayra smacking her own head wasn't quite the reaction he expected. Ghent shifted his weight to his other foot, annoyed she should repeat what the ghosts chose to taunt him with. Life was a lot easier when he was a human.
"Pretty sure we covered this earlier, Blondie." Grumbling, Ghent poked at a dust mote with the dagger. It bobbed along its chosen path, bringing Elayra back into his line of vision again.
"I can what?" Ghent balked. His list of possible skills grew stranger by the second. Elayra seemed determined this was possible, so he went along with it. She had been right with everything else, he had no reason to doubt her now.
"O-okay...well...how do I do that?" Ghent's voice shook with uncertainty. Hearing Drust's heavy breath, he angled himself to keep the knight in sight. "Is there a spell, or...I don't have to meditate for this, do I?"</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra's gaze darkened at Ghent's request for a different weapon. Her hand twitched, wanting desperately to reclaim the weapon and demonstrate exactly what damage a 'kinda small' dagger could inflict.
The kris dagger's wavy blue blade glinted indignantly at the comment as he examined it, turning it over just right so it caught a brave spear of remaining light.
"How slow are you?" she growled when he questioned what he could do. His disbelieving expression made her want to punch him. But, then, practically everything he did made her want to punch him.
Her eyes narrowed at his following questions. "Seeing as you've knocked out the only person" her head jerked irritably toward Drust, "who could've probably answered that, you'll have to shut your eyes and wing it. That's what you did earlier, isn't it?" she scoffed. "So stop gawking and—" Her attention snapped to her right. She stumbled away, ready to push Ghent back with her if he did not move fast enough, as a translucent, wispy figure blinked into existence only a couple feet from them.
Its back hunched forward, it gripped its midsection as if in pain. Its body spasmed as its form glitched in and out of existence. A powdery pallor coated its garments, its form covered in leather armor. Dark streaks dripping down half its face made it impossible to get a decent look at its features.
Elayra turned and raised her sword, her thundering heart jumping into her throat.
The masculine form tilted its head back and let out a long, pained howl that merged into manic laughter. Another series of spasmic blinks wracked its form, like a video game character gone wrong. It vanished as suddenly as it had appeared, making the eerie silence it left in its wake that much more unnerving.
"Get trying!" Elayra hissed with a new panic. "Unless you want to be skinned alive by earthbound ghosts!"</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent's expression soured as Elayra reminded him of his most recent blunder. In is opinion, she was partially responsible for failing to prepare him for the 'trick' ghosts swooping in out of nowhere.
"That was fifty percent winging it, fifty percent luck." With an aggravated groan, Ghent rubbed his pointer finger and thumb over his eyelids. His lack of training troubled him. Mistakes were becoming more and more common; it was a miracle he and Elayra were mostly unscathed by his last few endeavors.
"I need you to walk me through thi--" Ghent's mouth fell open. He staggered back with the help of Elayra, eyes wide and unblinking. Before them stood the largest figure of a ghost yet, one that appeared mortally wounded.
Ghent couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. The dagger slipped from his clammy hand and pierced the earth, just as a blade may have pierced the man's body. The figure was doubled over, his pain evident in body language alone.
When the apparition flickered out, Ghent hoped it would not return, but that was not the case. The howl from the deceased was unlike anything Ghent had ever heard in his life. The sound was laden with agonizing pain and suffering. Without meaning to, Ghent felt sympathy toward him and almost wished he could help, ghost or not.
The feeling didn't last. The howl morphed into a laugh so sinister and horrifying, Ghent screamed and didn't stop until it was gone.
A single leaf fell from a nearby tree. The forest fell quiet once more. Time was at a standstill, at least for Ghent. Face ashen, he slowly turned to face Elayra.
"What. Was. THAT?!" Ghent's voice cracked. He knew darn well what it was, he just didn't want to believe it. It was the ghost of man slain in battle. Possibly one of the three from the story Elayra shared.
Hugging himself as if he wore an invisible straitjacket, Ghent shook his head adamantly and paced, wishing to convince himself what he saw -- and heard -- was another trick. He wouldn't spend a night in Hollow Forest. He couldn't.
Amazingly, Elayra's words had enough power to stop him. Being skinned alive by ghosts was about the worst death Ghent could possibly imagine. At least in that moment.
Trembling, he nodded once to show he understood. Without a word, he dropped down to sit beside the abandoned dagger. Legs folded in a pose better suited to meditate, Ghent shut his eyes. Unlike before, he didn't bother telling Elayra to turn around. An audience was the least of his concerns right now.
Focus. That was the first step. Elayra told him to envision unlocking the gate earlier, and it worked. Hopeful that reaching the Spiritayum was similar, Ghent took a few deep breaths to help calm himself.
If we reach the Safe Zone, we'll be alright. Ghent longed for anything even remotely protected. If we don't, we'll die.
Ghent never released himself from the hug. His grip was so tight, he could feel the pressure of his nails through his hoodie. Calm down, focus, wing it. That was his plan.
It was in Ghent's favor that he had a wild imagination. With no effort at all, his mind conjured up a hazy image of a small, somewhat transparent fox. The only benefit of seeing a ghost up close was that it took little effort to guess what the ghost of a fox would look like.
Seconds turned into minutes. Ghent's body was tense and rigid to fight against his shaking. Dozens of thoughts flooded his mind, each with a fear tacked onto it. The fear fought for control, making his mission increasingly difficult.
Ghent's brows furrowed. Simply imagining a tichari wasn't enough. He needed to communicate.
Hello? Ghent hated how uncertain he sounded in his thoughts. "Is anyone there?"</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Using Smaya's promise as his source of motivation, Ghent made progress in freeing himself from fear. The freedom offered his mind the ability to focus on what he needed to, granting him an escape from the between world.
He shivered involuntarily, the cold chill spreading from his spine to every part of his body. Leaving the ghostly realm was working far sooner than he expected it to.
Any inner peace Ghent experienced was disrupted by the return of the voices and whispers. Distressed by their pain, Ghent pressed his hands against his ears in a futile attempt to block them out. He couldn't feel what they felt, but he could still hear their suffering, and that was almost just as bad.
Reminding himself of Smaya's promise, Ghent took a deep breath and lowered his hands. He couldn't dwell on the dead anymore, he had to worry about the living. Elayra needed help.
As the voices mingled and changed, he became increasingly disoriented. He didn't feel himself move, but he felt as if the world was reshaping itself around him. It was a strange, bizarre sensation, somewhat similar to how it was when traveling through the portal.
Elayra's voice cut through the darkness, her tone different than what he was used to. She sounded distressed, or at least close to it. The words weren't directed at him, but someone else. Ghent shivered as another chill raced down his spine. Drust was definitely conscious.
Ghent was afraid, but he didn't open his eyes. He wasn't ready. He was hardly an expert on how the Spiritayum worked, but his inner voice told him he wasn't where he needed to be.
Eventually, the earth seemed to fall away from him, replaced by the familiar roughness of entangled vines and grass.
"You. Know. Nothing!"
Gasping, Ghent's eyes shot open. Drust was awake, angry, and armed.
The knight stood across the clearing, sword in hand. His form blocked Elayra from immediate view, but Ghent knew she was there, cornered and pinned with no means of escape.
Ghent's stomach knotted. Keeping Drust in his line of vision, he moved his hand across the ground until his fingers brushed against cool metal. The dagger he dropped before entering the Spiritayum was still there.
Fingers wrapping around the hilt, Ghent rose with shaky legs, adrenaline pumping. He could hear the scuffle between them. Elayra was trying to push the madman away.
Time had officially run out. There was no time to think, there was only time to act. Ghent's first steps were wobbly. His sneakers barely made a sound as he moved forward, his pace quickening with each step.
Inexus. The focus word crossed his mind, but Ghent pushed the thought away. The spell was too unpredictable, and he didn't think Elayra would appreciate being thrown again. Magic wasn't the answer.
As Drust lifted his arm, Ghent sprinted toward him in one last, giant leap. From where he landed, he was in range to stop the knight. At least, that was his intention. He was hardly a match for Drust, but that didn't stop him from trying.
In a single movement, Ghent wrapped his arm around Drust's upper arm in an attempt to stop him from bringing the weapon down on Elayra. The difference in height was inconvenient, but the action was doable, even if Ghent practically had to stand on his tiptoes in order for it to work. Using the same hand, he pointed the dagger up towards Drust's throat.
"Alright, DROP IT!" Ghent pulled back on Drust's arm tighter, the blade he gripped moving half an inch closer from the movement. "I'm serious, Drust!"</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra grit her teeth and closed her eyes, bracing for an impact that never came.
Drust snarled loudly as Ghent's arm wrapped around his before he could bring the hilt down on Elayra.
At the sound of Ghent's voice, she gave a small gasp and opened her eyes. She almost wished she had kept them closed. The sight of his awkward, poorly balanced position lit by the tail of the green flash made her groan.
"You idiot!" she muttered, her words nearly drowned out by an echoic battle cry as a luminescent ghost rushed through the trees a couple yards away. It collided with another, and the two vanished in a puff of vapor.
Drust's arm scarcely moved when Ghent tried pulling further back on it, the Knight undaunted by the dagger pointed toward him.
"I'm serious, Drust!"
A menacing, twisted smirk jerked the corner of Drust's lips upward as another phantom light flashed by.
"Is that even possible?" Drust asked tightly, the Curse-induced grate in his voice sending a shiver down Elayra's spine.
In little more than the span of a blink, Drust attacked.
He leaned back from the dagger's point and took a single swift sideways stride away from Ghent, putting more space between them. He straightened his trapped arm as he moved, letting it slide between Ghent's pathetic hold. He shoved Elayra aside to the ground, shifted his weight onto his left leg, and struck out with a powerful side-kick aimed at Ghent's torso.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent's eyes shifted, the commotion of the nearby battle diverting his attention. Repeating Smaya's promise in his mind, he gripped the handle of the dagger tighter, focusing on Drust once more. He continued to hold the knight hostage, inwardly sighing at Elayra's less-than-enthusiastic response to his efforts.
"At least pretend you're glad to see me," Ghent grumbled to her, stiffening at Drust's reply. The icy, dangerous sound in his tone made it clear he was not intimidated nor willing to comply with the demand.
Before Ghent could muster the courage to respond, Drust reacted.
The agility of the man didn't seem possible. Shouting in surprise, Ghent made a move to stop him, but Drust had already shoved Elayra and retaliated with a kick impossible to dodge.
The kick sent Ghent sprawling backwards, creating a few paces of distance between them. The force of impact hurt, but it didn't compare to the feeling of having the wind knocked from his lungs. He managed to sit upright, leaning forward as he gasped for breath to return.
Staring down at the dagger he managed to retain, Ghent's mind spun. He wasn't a stranger to a brawl or two, but this was different. This was Drust. Armed or not, he didn't stand a chance.
Dropping the weapon against the ground with a gentle clink, Ghent decided to try what Elayra failed to do. He needed to make Drust listen to reason.
"DRUST!" Between gasps, Ghent shouted to get his attention. He wanted to keep the knight's attention away from Elayra. "LISTEN!"
Hoping Drust wouldn't go in for a second strike, Ghent pushed himself up to stand.
"Elayra's right, this isn't you," he paused, studying the feral appearance of the man driven mad by the Curse. "Well. It kinda is. But...you're worse than before."
Stealing a paranoid look behind his shoulder, Ghent faced him again, keeping Elayra in his line of vision as well.
"J-just listen, okay? I found a tichari. He'll lead to the nearest Safe Zone, and the guardian of the forest promised to help with the ghosts." Ghent spoke hastily, wishing to get his message across to the madman before it was too late.
"If you give in to the Curse...we'll never make it out of here. It isn't too late for us to work together."</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
The silence was deafening, and the suspense was excruciating.
While the knight considered the words, Ghent stood rigid, his focus trained on where he assumed Drust's eyes were. The shadows made it impossible to get an accurate idea of his expression, but the show of hesitation sparked a feeling of hope in Ghent. If he was lucky, he reasoned with what little sanity remained.
Please Drust, Ghent silently pleaded with him, his eyes flickering to Elayra again. Concern for her crossed his features, but he was quick to avert his attention. He didn't want to remind the knight of her presence.
Any remaining hope was shattered with two words.
"Adorable notion."
Ghent felt the air leave his lungs all over again. His mind screamed at him to run, but his feet were anchored to the ground. Shock robbed him of his senses and left him unable to react. In that heart stopping moment, he was convinced he would die.
Hollow Forest was denied another victim, thanks to Margen. The nimble creature showed up in the space between the males, acting as a barrier between sword and boy.
Ghent couldn't move. He acted as a useless bystander, gaping as the creature made quick work of their current foe. The tiny sneeze from Margen lead to Drust tripping, which ultimately ended with him falling unconscious again. It happened so fast and effortlessly, Ghent wondered if Margen was better suited to save Wonderland.
Silence fell over the group again. Trembling, Ghent approached slumbering knight and nudged his leg with the tip of his sneaker. The state of sleep hardly made Drust appear less threatening, but it was definitely an improvement.
"Margen..." Ghent whirled to face him. Overcome with gratitude and admiration, he knelt to be more level with his ghostly rescuer. "Good boy!" he praised the fox as one might praise a beloved pet. "Margen, you were incredible! You saved my life!"
Chuckling lightly at Margen's impatience, Ghent nodded and stood. His entire body felt shaky, but he didn't care. His body was still in one piece. "Alright, alright, we're..."
His voice faltered when the realization hit him. Caught up in the chaos, he had forgotten about Elayra.
Quickly, Ghent turned around, hoping to see the girl on her feet. She wasn't. She remained where Drust left her, her frame looking smaller than usual against the tall, looming tree.
Without another word, Ghent dashed past the knight and Margen, inwardly cursing himself for not leaving the Betwixt sooner.
"Elayra?!" When he was close enough, Ghent dropped to his knees beside her. To get an idea of her condition, he reached to brush some of her hair out of her face.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Margen watched Ghent as the boy went over to the slumbering Knight. The cushion of mist Drust had landed on, keeping him afloat a couple inches above the hard ground, flickered with the gentle motion caused by Ghent's nudge.
The fox cocked his head at the sound of his name. His tail swished slightly quicker. The tichari's brows rose and the corners of his long mouth pulled down at the simple, typical praise used for a pet. All the same, he perked up proudly, his large ears standing a bit straighter, at the compliment that followed.
When Ghent agreed, the fox turned, ready to traverse the forest. The fox paused when Ghent's words trailed off. He turned around, his ears ever twitching, and gave a curious, confused whine.
Its gaze flicked to the fallen girl. In understanding, Margen trotted to the side and sat to wait.
------- There was no doubt in Elayra's mind: she was unconscious. She struggled to force herself to awaken. There was no telling what Drust would do with her down for the count, to her or to Ghent. Especially to Ghent.
She stirred slightly as, all too slowly, the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant cries of lost souls returned to her. She swore she heard her name, but she could not be certain. She sensed movement around her, heard the gentle scrabble of hurried footfalls.
Something brushed against her face, snapping her fully back into awareness.
With a sharp gasp, she startled and her hand shot up and gripped Ghent's wrist. The other reached to draw her dagger, unsure what new threat she would face, but her fingers came up empty.
Breaths heavy in anticipation, it took her a moment to fully register her surroundings. Ghent kneeling beside her, half his face illuminated by silvery blue light. Drust laying on a bed of twinkling mist. A tichari watching them from a few feet away, impatiently padding at the forest floor.
How hard was I hit? She released Ghent and shook her head, unsure if she believed what she saw.
Her gaze settled on Margen. "You… actually… found one?" she asked incredulously, deciding to first address the easiest of the oddities before her. Her voice came out a bit weaker than she expected.
Margen's ears twitched toward her. He blinked, the white of his eyes winking out for a fraction of a second.
"And… took out Drust?" She had to still be unconscious. But the pounding in her head and ache in her back promised her otherwise. Her eyes narrowed as she remembered Ghent's ability with magic. Her attention snapped to him. "How?" she demanded curtly, pulling one leg toward her in preparation to stand.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"Whoa!" Ghent pulled his hand back, but wasn't quick enough to avoid Elayra's grasp. When she reached for an invisible weapon, he grabbed her arm in an attempt to stop her. "Elayra, it's okay!" he insisted, saying what he could to make her realize she was no longer in immediate danger. "It's just me!"
Once released, he dropped down to a seated position, blinking once at the question. "Found one what? You mean Margen?" He followed her gaze toward their ghostly guide, a light smirk tugging at his lips. Smaya had been the one to summon the creature, but he didn't have to tell Elayra that. Not immediately, anyway. "Would you be impressed if I said yes?"
He was startled out of his smugness by the intensity of Elayra's stare.
"I know what you're thinking, but I didn't use magic on Drust." Sensing the ever-present disapproval from her, he made sure to deny having any part in the knight's current condition. "Margen did."
With his name cleared and the blame foisted off on his rescuer, Ghent's expression turned unusually serious as Elayra moved to stand, an action he didn't think wise.
"This is the part where I offer to help, but you get angry and turn me down," he sighed at her stubbornness, speaking as if they were characters in a film. Slowly, he shifted his position so he was kneeling again, but he didn't stand.
"Let me help you, alright?" Being quite stubborn himself, he offered her his hand. "You're hurt, and we don't have much time. I'll explain on the way."</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Margen watched Ghent as the boy went over to the slumbering Knight. The cushion of mist Drust had landed on, keeping him afloat a couple inches above the hard ground, flickered with the gentle motion caused by Ghent's nudge.
The fox cocked his head at the sound of his name. His tail swished slightly quicker. The tichari's brows rose and the corners of his long mouth pulled down at the simple, typical praise used for a pet. All the same, he perked up proudly, his large ears standing a bit straighter, at the compliment that followed.
When Ghent agreed, the fox turned, ready to traverse the forest. The fox paused when Ghent's words trailed off. He turned around, his ears ever twitching, and gave a curious, confused whine.
Its gaze flicked to the fallen girl. In understanding, Margen trotted to the side and sat to wait.
------- There was no doubt in Elayra's mind: she was unconscious. She struggled to force herself to awaken. There was no telling what Drust would do with her down for the count, to her or to Ghent. Especially to Ghent.
She stirred slightly as, all too slowly, the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant cries of lost souls returned to her. She swore she heard her name, but she could not be certain. She sensed movement around her, heard the gentle scrabble of hurried footfalls.
Something brushed against her face, snapping her fully back into awareness.
With a sharp gasp, she startled and her hand shot up and gripped Ghent's wrist. The other reached to draw her dagger, unsure what new threat she would face, but her fingers came up empty.
Breaths heavy in anticipation, it took her a moment to fully register her surroundings. Ghent kneeling beside her, half his face illuminated by silvery blue light. Drust laying on a bed of twinkling mist. A tichari watching them from a few feet away, impatiently padding at the forest floor.
How hard was I hit? She released Ghent and shook her head, unsure if she believed what she saw.
Her gaze settled on Margen. "You… actually… found one?" she asked incredulously, deciding to first address the easiest of the oddities before her. Her voice came out a bit weaker than she expected.
Margen's ears twitched toward her. He blinked, the white of his eyes winking out for a fraction of a second.
"And… took out Drust?" She had to still be unconscious. But the pounding in her head and ache in her back promised her otherwise. Her eyes narrowed as she remembered Ghent's ability with magic. Her attention snapped to him. "How?" she demanded curtly, pulling one leg toward her in preparation to stand.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"Whoa!" Ghent pulled his hand back, but wasn't quick enough to avoid Elayra's grasp. When she reached for an invisible weapon, he grabbed her arm in an attempt to stop her. "Elayra, it's okay!" he insisted, saying what he could to make her realize she was no longer in immediate danger. "It's just me!"
Once released, he dropped down to a seated position, blinking once at the question. "Found one what? You mean Margen?" He followed her gaze toward their ghostly guide, a light smirk tugging at his lips. Smaya had been the one to summon the creature, but he didn't have to tell Elayra that. Not immediately, anyway. "Would you be impressed if I said yes?"
He was startled out of his smugness by the intensity of Elayra's stare.
"I know what you're thinking, but I didn't use magic on Drust." Sensing the ever-present disapproval from her, he made sure to deny having any part in the knight's current condition. "Margen did."
With his name cleared and the blame foisted off on his rescuer, Ghent's expression turned unusually serious as Elayra moved to stand, an action he didn't think wise.
"This is the part where I offer to help, but you get angry and turn me down," he sighed at her stubbornness, speaking as if they were characters in a film. Slowly, he shifted his position so he was kneeling again, but he didn't stand.
"Let me help you, alright?" Being quite stubborn himself, he offered her his hand. "You're hurt, and we don't have much time. I'll explain on the way."</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra's shoulders sank with a sigh of relief at Ghent's reassurance he had not used magic. One less thing she had to worry about. For the span of a breath, a shocked awe returned to her face at the impossible thought Ghent had subdued Drust without magic.
Maybe he's not so useless after—
"Margen did."
She blinked at him, confused. She opened her mouth to ask who Margen was, but quickly put it together. Her awe was replaced with a disappointed frown.
So much for that. Her gaze shifted to Drust, the gentle, steady movement of his chest just visible in the light of the cloud beneath him. She nodded as everything finally fully fit into place.
"Sleeping mist," she muttered. A mild magic even the Knight could shake off once broken.
She glanced to Ghent when he spoke. "Smarter than you look, Featherhead," she growled at his prediction.
She pulled her other leg in and tried to stand, Ghent's sigh sounding in her ear. She inhaled through her teeth when the shift in weight at fighting against gravity sent a spark of pain down her back and made her head throb harder. She fell back the few inches she had managed to rise. She leaned back against the tree trunk, glowering out into the forest night.
Elayra closed her eyes for just a moment as Ghent spoke again, her teeth clenched. She opened her eyes and looked to the hand he offered.
"Since when do you know how to take initiative?" She tried to offer a small grin, but it came more as a grimace. Without waiting for an answer, she grudgingly reached out with her better arm and gripped his offered wrist instead of hand for a more secure hold.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"Since two seconds ago," Ghent joked, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. It wasn't far from the truth. He never took the initiative if he could help it. It was easier to have somebody else in charge.
He didn't say anything when Elayra opted for his wrist rather than his hand, he was just glad she accepted help for once. Rising, he allowed her to hang onto his wrist as much, or little, as she needed to. He waited until she was on her feet, and even then he didn't move away. He nearly expected her to collapse.
"All good?" Ghent tried to sound casual, as if Elayra had merely skinned her knee. Inwardly, he was panicking. What if she had a concussion? Was she bleeding? Head injuries weren't something to be taken lightly.
"You took a bad hit," he reminded, his indirect way of telling her not to overdo it. "So...if it's hard for you to keep up, just say so...and, uh..." he rubbed the back of his neck. "We'll...figure something out."
For the sake of time and personal safety, Ghent left it at that. As far as he could tell, Elayra didn't have a concussion. She seemed a little banged up, but well enough to move. At least nothing had been broken. He didn't want to think about what would happen then.
"Sorry about the wait, Margen," Ghent gave him a thumbs up, thankful their guide's patience hadn't run out. "Lead the way, we'll be right behind you."</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent gripped his half of rope tightly, wincing every time the Knight moved.
"He's waking up!" he hissed the obvious, making a loop with the rope while Elayra tied Drust's hands. It should have been simple enough to do, but Ghent was shaking so badly he could barely get a knot started.
Unsurprisingly, Elayra finished first. Ghent expected her to take over for him, but she was returning to their abandoned woodpile.
"You're leaving me?" 'Whiny toddler' was beginning to fit. Fingers numb with cold, Ghent wrapped the rope around and above Drust's boots and pulled so it was taut. He bit his bottom lip as he worked, silently praying for the man to stay asleep as he tied the rope off in a lopsided, bulky knot.
"Let's see how tough you are now," Ghent muttered, pushing himself up to stand. He kept a wary eye on Drust's slumbering form as he retrieved the piece of wood from the ground. Either Drust was still out of it, or he was playing possum. Shivering at the thought, Ghent turned and hurried to regroup with Elayra.
As he neared her, Ghent overheard the repeated the focus word. He hoped for a spark, but nothing happened. He frowned at his sneakers, knowing what her failure meant. It meant the task fell to him.
"Do I have a choice?" Ghent set the magical log aside, squinting at what he assumed was a cotton ball. He looked to her for an explanation, but most of her face was covered in shadow. They were both being swallowed by the darkness.
"Any way to do this without burning the entire forest down?" Ghent ran a hand through his layered mess of hair, reluctant to conjure the element by the use of magic. He didn't like fire. Like Drust, it was deadly and unpredictable.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
"Of course you do, Featherhead," Elayra snorted. "You could always refuse and let us have to sit in the dark all night. With the moans of the ghosts to keep us company."
As if a spirit had heard her words, a quiet, muffled moan floated through the clearing. A ghostly form blurred from the clearing's magic flitted in and out of existence at the edge of the area, its pale body appearing to reflect the dimming blue light and set it aglow.
Elayra tensed, her empty hand clenching around the hilt of her sword.
"Sure. Control the magic," she answered his second question. Exhaling heavily, she stiffly forced her hand from her sword and reached into the center of the wood pile. She quickly created a small pocket amidst the kindling.
"This," she held up the small cotton ball between two fingers, "is a CottonTail fire starter. Can't find anything easier to light." She placed the fire starter in the kindling pocket. "But fire's the worst thing to start a beginner off on," she continued darkly, drawing once more on the few lessons in magic Drust had given her. "Igniculus is supposed to summon a small flame, but a spark's all Drust and I can ever manage even with stronger spells. And that's when we're lucky. For just a spark…"
She trailed off, her mouth twisting upward for a moment in thought. She tried to remember the spell for a simple focus word, one beneath even igniculus. She had known it once, but ill-use had faded the memory. Her scowl returned.
"I… can't remember," she admitted grudgingly. "You'll just have to try igniculus." She sighed, hating the idea of Ghent using fire magic at all with his track record. "Focus on the fire starter, and only the fire starter, and command just a tiny flame from the magic. Hold your hands over the wood if you think it'll help."
Drust groaned and shifted. Elayra's hand went again to her sword.
"Don't even think about Drust," she began without taking her eyes from her guardian. "If he wakes up Curse driven, I'll deal with him while you focus on not burning us all alive."
Without waiting for Ghent's response, she stood and took the couple strides to place herself between Ghent and Drust. She did her best to not show the fatigue that made her muscles complain against her movements.
Jaw tight, she drew her sword, the metallic hiss of the blade sliding free a reassuring sound to her. She stuck its tip in the ground and crouched behind it. Her left hand gripped the hilt, ready to pull it free.
"Extinguo puts fires out." She angled herself to keep Ghent in her peripherals, ready to either spring away from flames or to pacify Drust if he woke up with the Crimson Curse in charge. "Especially magic fires. Practice saying both before you try."</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"I wouldn't call that much of a choice," Ghent grumbled, yelping as he overheard the moan. He lifted the piece of wood over his head, ready to swing at the first thing that moved. The ghost sounded closer than the previous ones, leading him to believe one had managed to slip into the Safe Zone.
After the nonexistent threat passed, Ghent held the log against his chest, knuckles white. He wished Margen was there.
Ghent turned, startled as Elayra admitted she could no longer remember the name. He grimaced at the replacement word, shifting his weight to his other foot. He didn't like where this was going.
How could you forget?! Ghent wanted to scream. He tried to remind himself that Elayra was only human. She couldn't be expected to know and remember everything, no matter how dire the situation was. He closed his eyes and forced himself to remain calm. Panicking wouldn't solve anything.
"Okay. I'll give it a shot." Seeing no other choice, Ghent dragged his feet over to the pile of wood. He crouched in front of the structure, splaying his fingers out over the center pocket. "Igniculous summons the fire, extinguo puts it out," he repeated Elayra's instructions, speaking slowly and clearly. "Igniculous, fire. Extinguo, puts out fire. That's easy enough."
Despite his attempt at a pep talk, his nerves were on edge. He couldn't help himself and cut a glance toward the shadowy figure of Drust.
From what Ghent could tell, the Knight remained on the ground. That was a relief. Ghent faced the woodpile again, shaking his head. He needed to leave Drust to Elayra, no matter how difficult.
Taking a moment to plan, Ghent chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. He wondered if his volume had anything to do with the power of the magic. In the past, his panic lead him to practically shouting each focus word. He decided to try speaking calmly and carefully.
Ghent moved his hands closer to the woodpile, taking in a breath. He focused on what he believed the CottonTail looked like. Small, soft. A glorified cotton ball. It was the only thing he allowed himself to think about.
As he opened his mouth to speak, his throat constricted. He didn't want to cause another disaster, but he also didn't want to sit in the dark. Not to mention, it was cold. Much colder than even an hour before.
"Ig..." Ghent swallowed. He felt the magic answering him, the same excitable, undisciplined pulse he felt when he last reached out to it. He cleared his throat, determined to stay composed. He had to get rid of the magic before it grew unstable.
Scrunching his eyes shut, Ghent spoke hastily, but quietly. "Igniculous!"</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Understandably, the first question didn't go over well. Ghent waited anxiously, hoping he hadn't ticked them off enough to be denied answers. He silently begged Drust to give him another chance, and the Knight did.
Should. Ghent didn't like that word. It meant that there was a possibility the portal would remain broken even after Wonderland was saved. Or salvaged. It didn't sound like defeating The Sorceress would magically reverse over a decade of damage. It made sense, but it was disappointing. There was no easy solution.
His brows lifted a notch when Drust mentioned the other portals. Miles had rambled something about being a World Jumper, but Ghent never really stopped to consider what that meant. The thought of new worlds should have excited him, but it made his stomach churn with uncertainty. If the worlds were anything like Wonderland, he wanted nothing to do with them.
He nodded slowly, expression contemplative as Drust addressed the differences between the world's magic. The explanation rang true to what Ghent had experienced so far. He continued to absorb the information, reminding himself to stay quiet until Drust was finished. It wasn't easy; each answer opened doors to more questions.
Despite the heat of the fire, a shiver radiated through Ghent as Drust made eye contact. Underneath his gaze he felt transparent, like the Knight could see straight into his soul. He put his attention back to the fire after Drust did, realizing it was his turn to speak.
"Wow..." The weight of the truth was heavy. Ghent scratched behind his ear, inexplicably nervous. So much was riding on his being a vinifcium. He was mostly scared, but angry too. The responsibility didn't seem fair.
"I guess I'll just have to practice some more." Ghent plucked a few pieces of grass from the earth, far from convinced. Magic wasn't the same as learning to ride a bicycle; a bicycle couldn't combust or throw people in three different directions. Or whatever magic did when it felt like misbehaving.
He glanced to Elayra when she spoke up, sensing contempt in her last comment. You jealous? Ghent wanted to ask, but he stayed quiet. He didn't want to test his luck anymore than he had, especially after the stare down from Drust.
"So...is there anything else I should know about being a vinifcium? Is magic the only thing that sets me apart from you guys?" Ghent wondered, thinking it odd that he was categorized underneath a completely different race. He didn't feel that different; his connection to magic was just stronger than average.
"And did you ever use any of the other portals?" he added as an afterthought, genuinely curious now. He knew Elayra couldn't have, but Drust was older than they were. Maybe he world jumped when he was their age.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
You guess? Elayra thought with a snort, a loud pop from the fire drowning out the sound.
When Ghent glanced to her, she did not miss the look that flashed over his face with his thought.
With a steely expression, she drew her dagger from her boot. She pointed it in a warning denial at Ghent, its wavy blue blade glinting in the fire. Before Drust could notice, she quickly disguised the action by using the tip of the blade to aid in loosening the knot of the bundle's twine.
Drust paused again when Ghent finished his newest round of questions, the man's breaths forcefully deep and even.
"Vinifcium typically possess a natural prowess in combat as well as magic." He frowned. "But I suppose there's the possibility that gene didn't get the chance to develop," he added darkly with a subtle twitch.
Elayra looked up to him at his new tone, her untied bundle put on hold.
"Or it's just gone dormant until he needs it," she offered, scowling at the unwanted doubt that swelled in her voice. "But magic's what we need now, anyway," she continued quickly, trying to amend the emotional slip. "We've already got two fighters."
Drust took another deliberate breath, then gave a stiff nod. "And your aging will slow. Once you're a bit older."
Elayra sighed, relieved he had at least changed the subject. Keeping one eye on Drust, she unwrapped the cloth, revealing a few slabs of jerky. She began gnawing on a thicker piece. In the firelight, the dried meat looked an unusually vibrant red speckled with orange.
"I've traveled to other worlds twice," Drust continued, keeping pace with Ghent's rabbiting topics. "Once with Hatter and Elayra's mother in the White Queen's youth." The corner of his mouth twitched fleetingly in an almost-smile.
Elayra's grip tightened on her piece of jerky at the mention of the White Queen. Her expression hard, her full interest turned to her bit of food rather than the conversation. She once more tried to tune out all but Drust's tone.
"Then again when Hatter and I surveyed the worlds. It was necessary to determine the best one to keep you two safe. There were multiple possibilities. We chose Earth for its lack of magic users. The fewer magic threats, the better." He snorted in disgust at the plan that had backfired.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Elayra's threat went unnoticed by Drust, but not Ghent. He lifted his head to stare at her, mentally recoiling at the sight of the dagger. He could have sworn the flames grew larger and more menacing, reacting to her movement.
Discretely as he could, -- which wasn't discrete at all -- Ghent scooted closer to Drust, turning their former seating formation to one of an acute triangle. Better to be safe than sorry.
"Combat, huh?" Ghent dusted leftover grass from his palms, hoping Drust wouldn't notice he was suddenly half a foot closer. "Y'know, I think I've noticed that before," he poked at nonexistent muscle on his forearm. "Back on Earth, I…"
Drust hadn't finished. As he added onto his original statement, Ghent's voice faltered. He squinted at Elayra, daring her to comment. She did, but not in the way he anticipated. She stood up for him, though Ghent suspected her only intention was to keep Drust calm.
Three fighters, princess, Ghent growled in his head. No way was he going to sit by and allow a girl pass him up in combat. If Elayra could learn to fight, he could too. He was determined to try, even if the thought of training made his body ache worse than it already was.
"My...what?" Ghent's competitive thoughts were put on hold. He stared at Drust, unsure what to do with the information. It wasn't the worst news in the world, but it was definitely weird. Would aging slower stunt his growth? He didn't dare ask, but at least that would explain why his height hadn't changed in the past year. He sat up straighter at the thought, squaring his shoulders. He didn't want to let Elayra sit taller than him.
The fact that Drust traveled worlds beyond Earth was interesting enough in itself, but when he brought Hatter and Elayra's mother into the mix, half a dozen questions sprang into Ghent's mind.
"Whoa, really?" Ghent leaned in like a kid waiting to hear a bedtime story. He longed to hear more, but something began nibbling at his conscious. Something that presented itself as a harsh, depressing reminder.
The White Queen was dead.
"I bet you guys had some pretty cool adventures," Ghent chose his next words carefully, forcing himself to leave it at that. His mind buzzed with unanswered questions, but he decided to save them for later. It felt wrong to pursue the topic in front of Elayra.
In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Ghent's stomach growled to remind him it was empty. Aside from a bag of Skittles, he hadn't eaten anything the entire day. That was definitely a personal record.
"For now, I have two more questions..." Ghent took a deep breath, pausing for effect. "Can I keep a tichari as a pet? And what's she eating?" he jerked his head in Elayra's direction. "Because I'm starving, and her crazy bag swallowed my backpack."</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Elayra's threat went unnoticed by Drust, but not Ghent. He lifted his head to stare at her, mentally recoiling at the sight of the dagger. He could have sworn the flames grew larger and more menacing, reacting to her movement.
Discretely as he could, -- which wasn't discrete at all -- Ghent scooted closer to Drust, turning their former seating formation to one of an acute triangle. Better to be safe than sorry.
"Combat, huh?" Ghent dusted leftover grass from his palms, hoping Drust wouldn't notice he was suddenly half a foot closer. "Y'know, I think I've noticed that before," he poked at nonexistent muscle on his forearm. "Back on Earth, I…"
Drust hadn't finished. As he added onto his original statement, Ghent's voice faltered. He squinted at Elayra, daring her to comment. She did, but not in the way he anticipated. She stood up for him, though Ghent suspected her only intention was to keep Drust calm.
Three fighters, princess, Ghent growled in his head. No way was he going to sit by and allow a girl pass him up in combat. If Elayra could learn to fight, he could too. He was determined to try, even if the thought of training made his body ache worse than it already was.
"My...what?" Ghent's competitive thoughts were put on hold. He stared at Drust, unsure what to do with the information. It wasn't the worst news in the world, but it was definitely weird. Would aging slower stunt his growth? He didn't dare ask, but at least that would explain why his height hadn't changed in the past year. He sat up straighter at the thought, squaring his shoulders. He didn't want to let Elayra sit taller than him.
The fact that Drust traveled worlds beyond Earth was interesting enough in itself, but when he brought Hatter and Elayra's mother into the mix, half a dozen questions sprang into Ghent's mind.
"Whoa, really?" Ghent leaned in like a kid waiting to hear a bedtime story. He longed to hear more, but something began nibbling at his conscious. Something that presented itself as a harsh, depressing reminder.
The White Queen was dead.
"I bet you guys had some pretty cool adventures," Ghent chose his next words carefully, forcing himself to leave it at that. His mind buzzed with unanswered questions, but he decided to save them for later. It felt wrong to pursue the topic in front of Elayra.
In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Ghent's stomach growled to remind him it was empty. Aside from a bag of Skittles, he hadn't eaten anything the entire day. That was definitely a personal record.
"For now, I have two more questions..." Ghent took a deep breath, pausing for effect. "Can I keep a tichari as a pet? And what's she eating?" he jerked his head in Elayra's direction. "Because I'm starving, and her crazy bag swallowed my backpack."</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra smirked in satisfaction from beneath her tangled mass of hair at Ghent's reaction to her threat. If Drust noticed, he gave no indication.
Drust's gaze shifted from the flames only when Ghent leaned forward in interest, flicking to the boy for only a moment.
"I bet you guys had some pretty cool adventures,"
Drust's lips twitched again in something somewhere between a smile and grimace, as if his mouth had forgotten how to truly smile. "Your father was a great man. But he always had a knack for finding trouble." Amusement dusted his otherwise stiff words, his gaze growing distant in silent reminiscence.
The Knight blinked, drawing himself back to the present when Ghent broke the silence. He nodded in a poor attempt at encouraging the boy's next questions.
Whatever either of them had expected to be those two questions, what left Ghent's mouth was not it.
Drust looked fully to Ghent with a disbelieving scowl and twitch of his neck.
Elayra groaned. "Seriously, dodo brain? That's what you want to know?"
"Tichari aren't pets, boy," Drust snapped, an extra edge in his voice. "They're messengers of the Spiritayum. They deserve respect. Not enslavement."
Rolling her eyes with an exasperated sigh, Elayra placed her piece of half-eaten jerky with the others. She sat the cloth on the ground beside her and sheathed her dagger. She forced herself to her knees, then reached her better arm into her pack.
Thinking of Ghent's unusual backpack in as great detail as she could, it took her only a moment to find it. Her fingers closed around one of the cushioned straps of his pack. With more effort than she would have liked and no small amount of maneuvering, she managed to pry Ghent's pack from hers. She let it drop to the ground beside hers, too weary to do much else after fighting it out even if she had wanted to.
She plopped heavily back into the indention she had made in the plush grass. She retrieved her jerky, glaring at Ghent. "Happy, Featherhead?"
"I trust you've brought provisions?" Drust asked darkly, doubtfully, eyeing the skull-patterned backpack. It looked out of place between the Wonderlanders, a modern item dropped into the center of the wrong era.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent was startled by the negative response to his innocent inquiry. What was wrong with wanting a pet? Drust sounded especially annoyed; Ghent suspected the Knight's patience was beginning to run out.
"I was only asking!" Ghent held up two hands to show he wasn't pursuing the idea. Minus the tension, the situation was similar to when he asked his parents for a lizard. He wasn't allowed to have a pet on Earth, or Wonderland. It sucked.
As Elayra removed the backpack from her bag, Ghent forgot all about owning a tichari. He just wanted to eat.
"I'd be happier if you brought it to me, but I guess that'll do." Slowly but surely, Ghent got to his feet, blinking away the splotches of light assaulting his vision. He crossed the distance between them, leaning forward to grab the loop of his backpack. It was heavier than he remembered; Elayra's pack weighed much less. "Thanks, Blondie."
Returning to his original spot next to Drust, Ghent dropped the pack to the ground with a gentle thump and sat beside it, sitting cross legged. "Well, yeah. Provisions were the first thing I packed," he used Drust's word to describe his hoard of snacks. "I have a couple of sodas in here, so we should probably drink those. They're making this thing heavy."
Unbuckling the outer flap, Ghent dug through the oblong backpack. It wasn't long before he produced a can of soda. The beverage was soon followed by an entire bag of Cheetos, a half-eaten bag of trail mix with the M&M's missing, four completely flattened Zebra Cakes, assorted candy, and close to a dozen chocolate bars.
"Here we go." Ghent unearthed two additional drinks, each identical to the first. "You guys have to try this. Earth is pretty much famous for Pepsi," he held up the dented can so they could have a better view. It was like show and tell featuring nothing but junk food.
"I have a water bottle somewhere around here, too…" he peeked into the backpack, unable to see much inside. Articles of clothing were making it difficult to maneuver. "Oh well. You guys wanna try anything? Most of the candy's sour, so don't say I didn't warn you."</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"Well, it used to be." Ghent turned the sandwiched mess of cake and frosting over, inspecting it. Amazingly, the packaging remained perfectly sealed. "Want it?" He brought his hand back with the intention of tossing the cake to her, Drust's comment stopping the action.
Ghent's hand fell to his side as he stared, blindsided by Drust's sudden show of anger. Before he could figure out what he did wrong, the Knight was growling at him, going on about sustenance and basic needs. Two things that, unfortunately, Ghent never bothered to consider until that moment.
Ghent didn't say anything. He gawked, chilled all over again by the intensity of the man's stare. He couldn't believe Elayra survived fourteen years with a guy who got angry over sour Skittles and chocolate.
Elayra was the first to speak up. Ghent heard her, but he didn't dare let the man out of his vision. He wanted to say something, to defend his choice in edibles, but nothing came out. One wrong word and Drust might snap for good.
With Drust's back to him, eye contact was broken and Ghent remembered to breathe. He caught Elayra's glare, but failed to return it. He was too frightened by the sounds of Drust digging through the pack. Hopefully he wasn't after something sharp.
Fearing for his safety, Ghent's eyes darted to the piece of wood he'd set aside. The makeshift weapon was just out of reach. Thinking it best not to make any sudden moves, he remained seated, visibly flinching when something was thrown. The bundle of cloth and twine nestled among the sea of snacks, a sight far less threatening than what he expected.
More silence. Ghent looked from Drust, to the bundle, then back to Drust again. His hands were clammy; he felt like he had to deliver a public apology to an auditorium full of angry parents.
Who's the mother hen now? Ghent muttered in his mind, annoyed that Drust cared so much about what he decided to consume. Who gave him the right to say what he could and couldn't eat? No one, that's who. Sighing through his nose, Ghent chewed the inside of his cheek, contemplating his options. The immature side of him wanted to mouth off or throw the bag of Cheetos at Drust's head, but common sense won out.
The boy took a breath, steeling his nerves. He felt like shouting into a pillow out of sheer frustration, only shouting wasn't going to get his stomach to quit reminding him that it had been neglected.
"If you want me to ditch twenty dollars worth of snacks, fine. But at least meet me half way." Ghent jostled the bag of trail mix, its contents shifting with the movement. "This is the healthiest thing here, so it'd be dumb to waste it. We can split this, and…uh, whatever that is," he eyed the bundle, wondering what type of animal the jerky originated from. For all he knew, they were dining on shadowmire.
"That way, everybody eats, and my backpack gets lighter." Ghent swallowed uneasily, watching the Knight for further signs of aggression. He didn't know if the idea would resonate with Drust's Curse-driven mind, but he felt the need to try. "Sound good?"</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra's grip tightened on her saber in the silence that followed, surprised at Ghent's relative lack of physical reaction. Drust waited, his fingers curling and uncurling with impatience.
Elayra glanced between the guys, the man towering over Ghent simply from kneeling. Even from across the fire, she could see the defiance twisting Ghent's face, could practically hear his arguments against Drust's demands.
The Knight's eyes narrowed in warning at the unvoiced thoughts displaying on Ghent's face. His neck gave a half-suppressed twitch.
Elayra's gaze bore hard into the boy, silently demanding he hold his tongue. Ghent was still a new variable, new stressor for Drust to acclimate to, and vice versa. Which was asking a lot under even the best of circumstances. Even the wrong tone could further aggravate the man's Curse-amplified anger, be it truly at Ghent, himself, or both.
To her relief—and shock—Ghent managed to calm himself down enough to try talking sense. Even if his words were strained and agitated.
"To think I was worried you'd figure out how to listen," Drust growled, returning slowly to a sitting position. He moved stiffly, forcing himself into the less threatening cross-legged pose. "I said most of, boy. Not all. The value of keeping some of that isn't lost on me. And as I said. White Knights don't need to eat as much. Take what you need." He nodded to the bundle. "I'll store the rest." He jerked his head toward his pack.
Slowly, Elayra mimicked Drust. She reluctantly unwrapped her hand from her saber. She adjusted its length behind her as she returned to her spot on the grass.
"Toatunt jerky." She nodded to the bundle waiting for Ghent to pull off its twine. She picked up the last remaining bit of the thicker chunk she had started on. In some areas, the speckles of orange rose a bit higher than the vivid red, creating small, wart-like humps. "You won't need much. It's more filling than it looks."</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"If you say so." Ghent was frustrated by Drust's refusal to his idea, but hardly surprised. White Knight or not, he didn't know how the guy could go an entire day without eating. "Feel free to change your mind, though." He leaned forward to grab the bundle by the fabric, pulling at the twine until it opened.
In the middle of the cloth, Ghent was met with the peculiar sight of strangely colored jerky, a closer view at what Elayra was eating.
"Oh. Cool," he answered her, as if he knew what a toatunt was. He sniffed at the jerky, unable to judge the flavor by smell alone. "So, what is that...Wonderland's version of a cow?" Before waiting for an answer, he tore off a big piece with his teeth.
Ghent's expression went from impassive, to confused, to grossed out. The more the flavor soaked into his taste buds, the less he liked it. It tasted like something his mom would pick up from the health food store. It tasted like the health food store.
He regretted taking such a big bite. He couldn't swallow the bizarre tasting jerky without choking. He wanted to spit it out, but he forced himself to chew the rest. The raised bumps on the jerky brushed against the inside of his mouth. This definitely wasn't cow.
Finally, it was over. Ghent swallowed down the rest of it and coughed, as if that would somehow rid the flavor from his mouth. He placed the half-eaten piece of meat back with the others and reached for one of the cans of Pepsi, amazed by Elayra's ability to eat the stuff without showing signs of disgust.
"Seriously, what the heck is a toatunt?" Ghent pulled back the soda tab with a crack, bringing the can to his lips. He couldn't decide what was worse about the jerky; the texture or the flavor. "A Wonderland boar or something?"</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
The soda wasn't enough to mask the aftertaste. Ghent smacked his lips and grimaced, eyeing Elayra with the utmost suspicion. She was going to tell him something terrible, he just knew it. Why else would she look so happy?
Before the news was broken, Drust intervened. Ghent wasn't sure whether to be grateful he was spared the truth, or angry he was denied it. He sniffed at his dinner a second time, bringing the jerky closer to his face. There was no mammal on Earth he could compare it to. Perhaps some things were better left unsolved.
"You guys are cruel, you know that?" Ghent took a smaller bite, his hunger winning out. He made it a point to chew on one side of his mouth, an attempt to keep the jerky bumps away from his tongue. The method helped a little, but did nothing to prevent the flavor from resurfacing.
Ghent clutched the soda, cringing as he swallowed the rest of the mystery meat. He already hated the food of Wonderland.
At Drust's mention of getting the most sleep, Ghent snorted a laugh mid-drink before turning it into a fake cough. The image of Margen knocking Drust out cold was still vivid in his mind, a sight that he didn't consider funny until he realized Drust was probably angry about it. The moment of amusement was short lived, replaced with concern at the mention of keeping watch.
Ghent set the drink aside, his heart giving a nervous flutter. They were in the Safe Zone, why would they have to keep watch if they were safe? Unless…they weren't.
Elayra's suggestion of staying awake in pairs was certainly better than having to stay awake alone. Ghent began to agree with her, but he lost the nerve once Drust's katana made a reappearance.
"It's okay, Blondie." Ghent spoke up, hoping to keep the peace. If tending to the fire would keep Drust from stabbing them, he figured it was worth it. "I can do that, Drust. No problem." He shrugged with one shoulder, taking one last bite of his dinner.
Ghent answered before the instructions were finished. He stopped chewing, the jerky packed into his left cheek like a chipmunk. The Safe Zone suddenly felt a lot less safe.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Ghent held up a hand to stop the conversation. "What do you mean, 'if anything living tries to get in?'" He cast a quick look behind his shoulder, the color draining from his face. There was nothing but darkness and trees, a perfect camouflage for predators. "How can anything come in!? I thought this was a Safe Zone, not a Semi-Safe Zone!"</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
"What, boy?" Drust snapped as Ghent held up a hand. The Knight placed the katana on the ground beside him. His scowl deepened at Ghent's first question. "I mean just that!"
"We got in, didn't we, Featherhead?" Elayra answered through an impatient sigh, her piece of toatunt jerky finished. She rubbed the back of her neck, the dull ache there finally beginning to turn into a headache.
Drust eyed her for a moment.
She glanced to him, before looking back to Ghent. She decided to elaborate both for the boy's and Drust's sake.
"Safe Zones keep the spirits and the emotions out, but these places still let in anything living. And some Spiritayians, like the tichari. Nothing living's stupid enough to travel Hollow Forest at night, but her beasts don't make the habit of putting brains before orders."
She paused long enough to reach into her backpack again. This time, she retrieved a water skin.
"It's unlikely they'd find us," she continued. "The tichari steer clear of them, and they can't see our fire. This place won't disperse the smoke above the trees," she jerked her head upward, then winced as the motion angered her budding headache. The light of the fire scarcely reached the treetops. Darkness blanketed the thick canopy stretching unnaturally above them, "and nothing outside the clearing can see the light. But…"
"Be prepared for anything," Drust put in.
"And always expect the worst," she finished. "Better to be safe than dead, don't you think, Featherhead?"
She wiggled the cork of her water skin out with a satisfying pop.
"Wait, girl," Drust demanded as she raised the water skin to her lips.
She could not stop a glare at her guardian. "Yours has the same water as mine," she complained as the man reached into his pack again. "There's nothing —"
His sharp stare brought her words up short. He pulled a small, worn leather pouch from the dark depths of his pack, then tossed it to Elayra.
The girl caught it in her free hand. With a confused, suspicious glance to Drust, she sat her water skin upright in her lap and pulled the pouch's drawstring open. She removed a bottle reminiscent of a glass inkwell. Only instead of ink, a substance that looked like someone had dumped glitter into strawberry milk swirled around inside. It filled only a small bit of the inkwell.
Elayra blinked at the bottle in surprise. "Where'd you get this?" She unscrewed its dropper stopper and sniffed at the opening. It smelled a tangy mix of pine, grapefruit, and brine.
"A daejinn."
Elayra stared at him with open-mouthed horror. "You called a daejinn? When—"
"Enough!" he growled with firm finality that shut down any further questions from her. He took a deep breath. "I'm not the one who called it." He nodded to her water skin, the motion half intentional, half twitch. "Two drops."
She nodded. Though she itched to get answers, the fear of further aggravating him won out. She drew some of the liquid into the stopper.
Drust sat beside his katana, closed his eyes, and took a few more deep breaths.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"Well that's just great." Despite the heat of the fire, Ghent shivered, his delusions of safety replaced by fears of the unknown. "Hanging out with you two, I always expect the worst," he grumbled, folding the cloth over the remainder of the jerky. He didn't want to see, let alone think about whatever it was he just ate.
After tying off the twine, he passed the bundle back to Drust, mumbling a sheepish 'thanks' before turning to his backpack. He started to put away most of the scattered food items, leaving out the hard candy and a couple of candy bars to appease Drust.
His attention was suddenly diverted to the exchange involving Elayra's waterskin.
What, is water not substantial enough? Ghent came close to rolling his eyes, his inner voice heavy with sarcasm. From what he could tell, Drust was even harder to please than Elayra. Why would he object to her drinking water?
Taking one last swig of soda, Ghent crushed the empty can in his fist, his eyes darting between the two as they seemed to argue over the curious looking bottle. He hadn't known Elayra for long, but he had a feeling it was rare for her to show that much emotion over something. She almost seemed...worried.
Brows furrowed, Ghent tossed the can aside with the abandoned snacks, completely lost. What was a daejinn, and why did the idea of one seem to bother her so much? He waited for someone to fill him in, but no one did.
"Um…what was that all about?" Ghent asked finally, perplexed by the entire situation. "Is that stuff medicine?" he nodded to the bottle, wondering of its significance. Whatever it was, Elayra seemed more concerned of where it came from, rather than what it was used for. "And what's a daejinn?"</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"Well that's just great." Despite the heat of the fire, Ghent shivered, his delusions of safety replaced by fears of the unknown. "Hanging out with you two, I always expect the worst," he grumbled, folding the cloth over the remainder of the jerky. He didn't want to see, let alone think about whatever it was he just ate.
After tying off the twine, he passed the bundle back to Drust, mumbling a sheepish 'thanks' before turning to his backpack. He started to put away most of the scattered food items, leaving out the hard candy and a couple of candy bars to appease Drust.
His attention was suddenly diverted to the exchange involving Elayra's waterskin.
What, is water not substantial enough? Ghent came close to rolling his eyes, his inner voice heavy with sarcasm. From what he could tell, Drust was even harder to please than Elayra. Why would he object to her drinking water?
Taking one last swig of soda, Ghent crushed the empty can in his fist, his eyes darting between the two as they seemed to argue over the curious looking bottle. He hadn't known Elayra for long, but he had a feeling it was rare for her to show that much emotion over something. She almost seemed...worried.
Brows furrowed, Ghent tossed the can aside with the abandoned snacks, completely lost. What was a daejinn, and why did the idea of one seem to bother her so much? He waited for someone to fill him in, but no one did.
"Um…what was that all about?" Ghent asked finally, perplexed by the entire situation. "Is that stuff medicine?" he nodded to the bottle, wondering of its significance. Whatever it was, Elayra seemed more concerned of where it came from, rather than what it was used for. "And what's a daejinn?"</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra sighed heavily. She held the bottle up carefully, delicately, as if afraid even looking at it too hard would shatter it.
"King's Curative. Supposedly, the only thing it can't cure is death. Takes a lot of magic to make." She looked to Drust. "Don't you think we should save it?"
"You were knocked out, girl. You may have a concussion." He glanced to Ghent and took the bundle of jerky the boy had returned. "We can't risk its side effects."
"I feel fine… Mostly fine," she amended grudgingly, sure the first lie would not go well. "It'd be a waste."
Drust snorted as he tossed the bundle into the depths of his still open pack. It disappeared inside, devoured by the enchanted fabric.
"Then stand." The man rose swiftly to his feet, his expression hard.
Elayra blinked up at him. Craning her neck to keep an eye on his face nearly made her dizzy and her neck ache. She had expected some sort of rejection, but the demand to stand was not a part of it. She glanced to his katana, thankful he had not grabbed it. But that meant little.
Heart pounding a bit faster, Elayra carefully set her water skin and the King's Curative aside. Keeping a wary eye on him, she forced her aching legs to move as quickly as they would let her.
She gasped when the movement made the throb in her head worsen and spread. Her world spun and she nearly lost her balance, the clearing going momentarily fuzzy around the edges.
Drust reached out to steady her with a firm, but gentle—for him, at least—hand. He watched her sit back down, the girl scowling.
"Two drops." This time, the order sounded less severe. He returned to his own indentation in the grass beside the fire.
The argument drained out of her. He had made his point. She retrieved the discarded items. Not wanting to look at either of her companions as she gave in, she focused on removing the inkwell's dropper stopper. She put two careful drops into her water skin, then snugly restoppered it. It did not look any emptier than before.
"Daejinn," Drust began, his attention returning to Ghent, "are Spiritayian cats. Born of the spirit realm. They have more free rein in our physical world. Compared to most other Spiritayians."
"They… make deals," Elayra began quietly, staring down at her water skin. "The stronger ones can do about anything, but…" She took a breath. Her voice came even softer as she continued, the sounds of the fire threatening to drown it out. "Their services always come at a price."
Her grip tightened on her water skin. She shoved the cork back into it and shook it to mix in the King's Curative. She sighed, realizing it was barely half full.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"Are you serious?" A day ago, Ghent would have laughed and called Elayra a liar. He leaned forward to get a better look at the bottle, amazed something so small could contain so much power.
"Save it?" he scoffed, "I think we should sell it." He locked his hands behind his head, leaning against his backpack like a pillow. "Do you even realize how much that'd be worth on Earth?"
Before more could be said about the King's Curative, Drust spoke up, startling Ghent as he often did.
Stand? Ghent wasn't sure if he heard the man correctly. He looked in Elayra's direction, watching for her reaction to the sudden demand. What was Drust going to do, challenge her to a fight? Ghent wouldn't put it past him. Not after the day they had.
"It's only two drops, Blondie." Ghent spoke up from his spot on the ground, unmoving. From his position, Drust looked like a skyscraper. A really scary, Curse-ridden skyscraper. "Drust's right. You hit your head pretty hard back there, y'know."
Despite being rather comfortable, Ghent sat up as Elayra stood, seeing the unmistakable look in her eyes. "She's gonna--" he began, but Drust got to her before she could collapse.
Ghent breathed a secret sigh of relief once Elayra sat back down. He listened as Drust elaborated, his face scrunching up at mention of a daejinn being a cat. Hopefully they didn't shed as much as William.
"If they've got that much power, why don't we ask one of them to kill the Sorceress for us and call it a day?" Ghent said it as a joke, but was half serious. He shifted his backpack around, trying to get comfortable again as she mentioned a price.
"What do they usually want in return? A soul? Catnip? Seems like a fair trade for a miracle potion." Ghent shrugged with one shoulder, his eyes narrowing in a combination of suspicion and curiosity. "What kind of deal did you make with one, Drust?"</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent cringed, the harshness in the response reminding him of his near-death experience. If Drust didn't make the bargain for the Curative, who did? He rested his head against his backpack, unsatisfied with the answer. Something wasn't adding up.
Elayra's question was met with another one-shouldered shrug. Ghent wasn't sorry for his behavior. He picked at his canine tooth, feeling a piece of leftover toatunt jerky jammed somewhere between his teeth. He didn't know how Elayra kept her sanity without joking around.
Here we go. Ghent almost rolled his eyes as Elayra began to list his latest offenses. He propped himself up on his elbow, ready to speak up, but Drust interrupted the girl before he could.
Ghent simmered down, anxious to hear more of the story. Ellheim's name wasn't familiar, but he remembered the Omitten. He glanced to Elayra as Alden was mentioned, his attention snapping back to Drust as he spoke of Alden trying the very thing Ghent had suggested.
Mortally wounded. Ghent's heart sank. He noticed Elayra adverting her gaze, her reaction leading him to believe the memory was painful. Ghent remained quiet, new questions presenting themselves in his mind.
"Pet?" Ghent echoed, the use of the word ripping him from his thoughts. He wanted Drust to correct Elayra, to deny the worst, but he didn't. Ellheim sacrificed his freedom for his son. It was so bizarre and horrible, it was Ghent's turn to look away.
When Drust spoke of Elayra learning from her mistakes, Ghent eyed her with curiosity. Elayra didn't seem capable of making mistakes -- at least not the kind of mistakes he was always making. He couldn't imagine what Drust meant by the statement, unless Elayta played a part in Alden's decision to bargain with the creature.
Ghent didn't have time to play detective for long. He sat up straighter at the mention of Hatter, fumbling to catch the book before it could hit the ground. He turned the book over for a title or name, finding neither.
Still, it was Hatter's. Or it had been. Ghent felt weirdly sentimental. He heard stories, but the man almost felt fictional until that moment. Holding something that once belonged to his father verified his existence.
He took a breath before lifting the cover, but he dropped it shut when Drust stood, wielding a weapon unlike anything he had ever seen.
"That's for me?" Ghent's eyes grew wide at the sight of the blade, its deadliness evident to him even from afar. He set the book aside, his gaze never leaving the weapon. He couldn't decide whether to be delighted or horrified.
"Uh, right! Of course. I'll be careful." Ghent stammered over the words, hoping not to sound as eager as he felt. The possibility of his own weapon turning on him was scary, but the thought of being unarmed in Wonderland was scarier.
Aches and pains forgotten, Ghent stood. He reached out to accept the staff, a surge of adrenaline rushing through his body once the weapon was entrusted to him.
"Oh man..." Ghent breathed, his arms dipping slightly due to the sudden weight. He held the weapon so it was level with his chest, hands spaced half a foot apart. He gave a gentle tug in opposite directions, but the halves remained whole, as he expected they would. The staff didn't know him yet, and vise versa.
"Does it have a name?" Ghent angled the staff to get a better look at the gemstone, appreciating the weapon even more from up close. He was so busy admiring his gift, he completely missed the fact that Elayra was envious. "How soon can you teach me to use it? Did my dad ever fight with this?"</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Drust snorted at Ghent's less-than-encouraging stammering to his miniature lecture.
"Veeery reassuring, Featherhead," Elayra sighed out, voicing both her and Drust's thoughts.
The man's eye twitched in response to his younger charge. Ignoring the girl, his gaze followed the boy as Ghent stood.
He hesitated for just a moment when Ghent reached for the staff, but relinquished it to him. With the deadly weapon now in inexperienced hands, Drust took a cautious step back, placing enough space between him and Ghent to act against an idiot's experimental swing.
The only one left sitting, Elayra watched the weapon exchange hands. She puffed out a breath through her nose and forced her gaze back to the fire. All the same, she kept Ghent in her peripherals, Drust's worry of an ill-placed movement echoed in her expression.
A voice grumbled in her head against the fairness of it, of him getting such a blade. Sure, it made sense—a well enchanted weapon for the only true magic-user of their group—but still. He was more liable to cut his own head off than an opponent's. She, on the other hand, could run circles around him, disarm him in a the expanse of a blink.
She grit her teeth. With an annoyed breath, she raised her water skin to her mouth as if its lukewarm contents could drown her woes.
Drust snorted at Ghent's attempt at pulling the shaft apart.
"He fought with it once. To try it out." Another smirking almost-smile ghosted his lips. "Your combat training begins tomorrow night. For now, try to connect with it. The magic stored in it has been long dormant. But you should be capable of drawing it out. Find it. As you did with the world's magic.
"It'll be easier to command than the world's magic. Once you connect with it. You'll know you've made a connection when you can will it to pull apart. You'll find its name when you've gained its trust. Find its name, and its powers will merge with yours."
"It's a vinifcium staff," Elayra guessed, her words stiffer with envy than she had wanted. She scowled at her voice's betrayal.
Drust nodded. "Hatter's enchantments played a part in its forging. Making it a vinifcium staff. Vinifcium weapons develop unpredictable abilities. And can grow along with their wielder. But worry about that later. Unless you have more questions, get to it." He jerked his head toward the bladed staff.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"Sweet…did he kill any shadowmires with it?" Ghent liked the idea of his father testing the weapon beforehand, it made him feel important. He allowed one end the staff to rest against the ground, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He felt like a real wizard.
Ghent soon discovered he was alone in his excitement. His grip loosened on the staff, mildly surprised by the edge in Elayra's voice. Was she actually jealous? He'd been joking earlier, but now he wasn't so sure. She seemed more irritable than usual, if that was possible.
"What's wrong, Blondie?" Ghent started to twirl the staff with one hand like a baton, an attempt to show off in front of her. "You're not jealous, are you?" He lost his hold within seconds, and the weapon fell to the ground with a noisy thud.
Mumbling an apology to the staff, Ghent bent to pick it up. He didn't have time to be embarrassed; he was too stoked at thought of the weapon – his weapon -- developing new abilities.
Get to it. Ghent's enthusiasm vanished. The staff was no longer something to be celebrated, it was something to fear. How was he supposed to earn the trust of an inanimate object? He never thought he would have to practice on his own so early.
"Oh. Well, okay." Ghent tightened his grip on the staff. Outwardly, he was playing it cool. Inwardly, he was screaming. He stepped away from the fire, aiming to distance himself a few paces. He didn't want to risk hurting them if the staff got temperamental.
As Ghent passed Drust, he stopped, an idea striking him.
"Hey, Drust...how much training does it take to become a knight?" Ghent looked over his shoulder, completely serious. If becoming a knight was a title possible of being earned, he could think of no teacher better qualified than Drust. "Do I get cool armor if I graduate?"</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent gripped the staff a little tighter when faced with Drust's threatening form. He didn't go out of his way to annoy Drust as he did with Elayra, but he seemed to provoke the Knight by simply existing.
Head tilted back, Ghent studied the pale features unobstructed by shadow, curious after he saw the change in Drust's expression. It was Ghent's turn to raise his eyebrows when he learned of training beginning at the tender age of seven.
"Sixteen years?" Ghent was suddenly aware of his aches and pains again. He couldn't imagine devoting himself to anything for sixteen days, let alone years. For him, sixteen years was an entire lifetime. He pitied the sap who wanted to reach knighthood with Drust on the judging panel.
"I could become a surgeon faster than that," Ghent grumbled, mentally scratching 'cool armor' from his Wonderland wish list. He contemplated using the argument that he wasn't human, but Drust happened to address the fact before he could.
Palace vinifcium? Ghent had no idea what the job entailed, or what that meant for his future on Earth. He found himself looking to Elayra for her reaction, wondering if this was news to her as well.
"So, what? I'm supposed to be Blondie's adviser or something?" Ghent suspected she wouldn't like the idea, and he wasn't sure if he liked it either. Drust knew more about his past than he did, and apparently his future too.
"Are you on the council?" Ghent tacked another question onto the first, unsure of how many duties the Knight had. As little as he knew about himself, he knew even less about Drust.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Drust snorted, his lips pulling upward seethingly at Ghent's comment. "A surgeon needs only to train his mind. Any half-wit scholar can become a surgeon. A knight, no matter their race, must master body, mind, and soul. Very few can become a true warrior."
Elayra picked up a stick from a pile of smaller kindling as Ghent mulled over Drust's words. Placing her emptied canteen on the ground, she poked at the fire. Sparks crackled and popped into the air, making known their displeasure at the disturbance.
She let out a snorting laugh at the concept of Ghent being anyone's adviser. "Not if I have anything to say about it, Featherhead!"
Drust's eyes shifted to her for half a second, his neck twitching, before fixing back on Ghent. "Just as Elayra will be your queen, and you duty bound to see to it her decisions are put into effect to their fullest extent."
Elayra silently reprimanded herself for letting their words rise beyond sounds.
Queen, she thought bitterly, poking the fire a bit harder at the reminder. One of the ember-gnawed logs shifted, and the tower she had made collapsed. She glowered at it. Right.
Drust heaved a sigh at Ghent's additional question. "I was not officially apart of the council. I was Queen Alyce's personal guard, so couldn't represent the voice of the other White Knights. But I attended their meetings at her and Hatter's request. There were nine members of the council. Including the Queen. Ten before the king's death."
"None of that matters!" Elayra snapped, her hatred of the subject bursting up from inside her and gaining a glare and snarl from Drust. "None of that will help us now," she tried to quickly amend, nearly stumbling over the words as she attempted to shove the emotions back to the recesses where they belonged. "Knowing that won't make him," she gestured to Ghent with the stick, its burnt end glowing red, "a better fighter, or help him survive here," she finished, hoping to both cover up her outburst and appease Drust with a reason he would deem warranted.
Drust's neck twitched as he eyed her. Thankfully, he gave a snort in agreement then returned his attention to Ghent. "Keep the questions pertinent to the present," he growled to Ghent. "Or get to work."</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent's face scrunched up. No matter how hard he tried, he was unable to imagine Elayra as his or anybody else's queen. He didn't doubt her capability, but he couldn't grow used to the idea. She would always be 'Blondie' to him.
Still, the job deserved consideration. Ghent didn't know if he had a choice in the matter, but he liked to think he did. He tapped a finger against his bottom lip, contemplating the pros and cons of his supposed lot in life.
"If her orders aren't carried out, do I get to throw people in the stocks?" Ghent failed to hide the hint of hopefulness in his voice. "Bet they'd listen if I was carrying this," he added, taking another moment to admire the sharp prongs of his staff.
Elayra's movement caught his eye, her irritation evident with each jab she made toward the fire. Ghent wasn't sure what she was mad about exactly, but he had a feeling it was something to do with the future rather than the present.
Ignoring the girl for his own safety, Ghent returned his attention to Drust. He was impressed, but hardly surprised to learn that the man was once a personal guard. Ghent couldn't think of anyone better qualified. Drust was practically built for the job.
Every answer lead to questions, creating a never ending cycle. Ghent wanted to ask more about Alyce and the king in particular, but he abandoned the idea when Elayra raised her voice at them.
Ghent shut his mouth, taken aback by the outburst. He looked to Drust for his reaction, readying his staff in case things turned ugly again.
After a few tense moments that felt like hours, the tension died down. Ghent breathed a heavy sigh of relief, shooting Elayra a wide eyed 'are you trying to get us killed?' look. Before he got the chance to say anything else, Drust limited Ghent's range of questions to the present only.
"What'd I do?" Ghent was against the injustice of it all, but one look at Drust's expression changed his tune. "Okayyy," he drug out the word, disappointed to have the conversation cut short.
Trudging back to his backpack and pile of discarded candy, Ghent retrieved the journal from the ground. When Drust wasn't looking, he snagged a Hershey's bar and slipped it into the front pocket of his hoodie. It was a risk, but one worth taking.
Gripping the weapon in one hand and book in the other, Ghent straightened. He looked between Drust and Elayra, the silence threatening to become awkward. A spark in the fire snapped louder than the previous ones, urging him to say something.
"Well, I'm going now." Ghent announced, as if he was going on a lifelong journey rather than a few feet away. He hesitated, using his sneaker to get at an itch above his ankle. "To practice. With my staff." After another pause, he finally turned to leave, taking his questions with him.</s>
|
<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent didn't make it two steps before Drust cut in, foiling his plan to unsheathe the weapon. He wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn't fault the Knight. The entire day had been a disaster; they didn't somebody getting maimed on top of it.
"I won't," Ghent answered through a sigh. Against his better judgment, he stole a quick glance in Elayra's direction. As he anticipated, the girl was smirking, her expression visible in the firelight.
Ghent continued onward, resisting a childish urge to stick his tongue out at her. He made sure not to wander too far, the possibility of an intruder breaking in still enough to turn his blood cold.
The cackle of a ghost sounded in the distance, a terrible sound made worse by the darkness. Ghent took a cautionary step back, his eyes wide and alert. He stared beyond the clearing, wondering if any ghosts were staring back. It was a terrifying thought.
Elayra's question was overheard next, causing Ghent to turn. It hadn't occurred to him until that moment, but he never thought to ask where they were going. Keeping his movements slow so he wouldn't miss the answer, he sat down, angled so he could see Elayra from the corner of his eye.
With his knowledge of Wonderland still limited, Ghent didn't know what answer to hope for. When Drust responded with the name of a town, he felt overwhelmingly relieved. Anything was better than another ghost-ridden forest.
Keeping his thoughts to himself, Ghent remained still, his staff resting across his lap. He looked down at his clothes when Drust mentioned them, suddenly aware at how much he would stand out if the rest of Wonderland dressed like Drust and Elayra did.
Ghent continued to listen in, content to obtain information without having to contribute to the conversation. He assumed Caervolus was another town, but soon learned it was the name of someone. Nothing more was said about the mysterious man, only that he had information they would no doubt need.
"Rabbit Hole?" Ghent echoed the name underneath his breath. He drummed his fingers against his knee, itching with questions. If the Rabbit Hole was anything like the one in the Disney movie, he had nothing to fear. He wouldn't mind falling in slow motion. It might be fun.
"Mushroom Gorge doesn't sound so bad," Ghent mused, using his sleeve to polish an imaginary fingerprint from the staff's gemstone. He hoped to earn its trust by keeping it nice and clean, which was more than could be said for him. Leaves, dirt, and grass clung and stained his clothes in different areas.
The conversation seemed to stop there. Ghent waited, hoping to learn more about the following day, but their travel plans weren't brought up again. Not by Elayra, at least.
"That means we're almost out of here, right?" Ghent spoke up, unable to stay silent a second longer. "Because I'm not spending another night in Ghostville," he informed them, as if he had a choice in the matter.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra snorted at Ghent's comment about Mushroom Gorge.
"Sure," she began, staring at the burnt ember and ash the fire had turned the tip of the stick into. "If you like poisonous mushrooms and blood-sucking caterpillars." She looked to Drust and opened her mouth to address the Knight, but Ghent interrupted her before she could speak. She scowled.
"It will depend on the spirits," Drust answered Ghent through a sigh. He shot Elayra a warning glance to attempt silencing the protest against his plan still displayed on her face. "They have some power over this place. They can send us in circles, if they want. If they're in a good mood, then yes, we could be out of here and nearing Gardale before sunset."
"Maybe the Guardian here can help with that?" Elayra offered hopefully. If there was anything she shared in common with Ghent, it was not wanting to spend more time in this forsaken forest than necessary. "Ghent contacted her once. Maybe he can do it again, get her to make the spirits help us?"
"Perhaps." His head twitched to look to Ghent. "A Rabbit Hole," he began in answer to the muttered question even Elayra had not fully heard, "is an underground tunnel. They were created and imbued with magic by the White Rabbits. The tunnels quicken travel between two places, but the Rabbits often changed the destinations. Before they went extinct from the Curse." A sneer twisted his face. "If luck favors us, we'll arrive at Caervolus' domain by the day after tomorrow."
Elayra gave a quiet snort. When has luck ever favored us?
"Drust," Elayra began. Forced caution hung in her voice as she struggled to keep her objections from bursting out and setting off the Knight. "Are you sure he'll," she jerked her head toward Ghent, "be ready to face Caervolus by then?"
Drust snorted. "For our and his sake, he'd better be. We don't have much time, since she has confirmation the two of you are alive. And both in Wonderland. Caervolus is the only one who will know her fatal weakness. Ready or not, we have no other choice."
Elayra frowned, but didn't dare push the matter further. Instead, she stared into the hypnotic beauty of the fire, its warmth making drowsiness lurk at the edges of her consciousness.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent didn't react to the news. After the day he'd been through, the mention of the caterpillars didn't faze him as it once would. He was willing to take insects over ghosts, blood-sucking or not.
His blue eyes flickered toward Drust, the Knight's words doing little to ease his endless list of concerns.
Oh, so we're relying on Casper now? What kind of ghost is in a good mood?! Ghent shouted in his head. He pressed his thumb and pointer finger over his bloodshot eyes, keeping his sarcasm to himself. If they had to rely on the emotions of the dead, they were doomed. He was sure of it.
As Elayra mentioned the Guardian, Ghent turned his head to look at her. Smaya was the only ghost that didn't scare him silly, but that didn't mean he wanted to enter the Spiritayum a second time. He shuddered a breath, gripping the staff tight enough to hurt his palms. He didn't want to go through that again.
"Smaya just helped us, Blondie." Ghent reminded her quietly, thinking back on his encounter with the eerily beautiful woman. "I don't know if she'd have enough power to help us again."
Drust's description of the Rabbit Hole wasn't exactly what Ghent expected. There was no mention of a long, single tunnel you fell through. Instead there were tunnels. The Rabbit Hole in Wonderland -- the real Wonderland -- sounded like a labyrinth of sorts.
"Great. So if we're not stuck here, we might get lost there. That's reassuring." Ghent muttered, using his sleeve to wipe at his runny nose. He stopped, his eyes narrowing at Elayra's description of the one called Caervolus.
"Hold on. What am I supposed to be ready for?" Ghent frowned, looking between Drust and Elayra for an explanation. Caervolus was beginning to sound more like a threat rather than a friend. He felt his insides knot with uncertainty, their comments troubling him. "Who is this guy, anyway?"</s>
|
<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent didn't react to the news. After the day he'd been through, the mention of the caterpillars didn't faze him as it once would. He was willing to take insects over ghosts, blood-sucking or not.
His blue eyes flickered toward Drust, the Knight's words doing little to ease his endless list of concerns.
Oh, so we're relying on Casper now? What kind of ghost is in a good mood?! Ghent shouted in his head. He pressed his thumb and pointer finger over his bloodshot eyes, keeping his sarcasm to himself. If they had to rely on the emotions of the dead, they were doomed. He was sure of it.
As Elayra mentioned the Guardian, Ghent turned his head to look at her. Smaya was the only ghost that didn't scare him silly, but that didn't mean he wanted to enter the Spiritayum a second time. He shuddered a breath, gripping the staff tight enough to hurt his palms. He didn't want to go through that again.
"Smaya just helped us, Blondie." Ghent reminded her quietly, thinking back on his encounter with the eerily beautiful woman. "I don't know if she'd have enough power to help us again."
Drust's description of the Rabbit Hole wasn't exactly what Ghent expected. There was no mention of a long, single tunnel you fell through. Instead there were tunnels. The Rabbit Hole in Wonderland -- the real Wonderland -- sounded like a labyrinth of sorts.
"Great. So if we're not stuck here, we might get lost there. That's reassuring." Ghent muttered, using his sleeve to wipe at his runny nose. He stopped, his eyes narrowing at Elayra's description of the one called Caervolus.
"Hold on. What am I supposed to be ready for?" Ghent frowned, looking between Drust and Elayra for an explanation. Caervolus was beginning to sound more like a threat rather than a friend. He felt his insides knot with uncertainty, their comments troubling him. "Who is this guy, anyway?"</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Drust's eyes narrowed at Ghent's mutterings about the Rabbit Holes, his neck twitching.
"Never underestimate a Guardian, boy," he answered Ghent's misgivings about Smaya, doing his best to ignore Ghent's other comments. Ever gruff, a hint of weariness coated his voice. Weariness that had nothing to do with physical fatigue. "It may be worth speaking to her again. If you have the strength."
Despite her growing sleepiness, Elayra shot Ghent a smug 'told you so' look.
Drust turned his head toward Ghent at his charge's last questions. "Ready for anything," he answered, his voice tight and clipped.
"Caervolus is the Guardian of Mushroom Gorge." Elayra glanced warily to Drust as he nodded in agreement to her statement.
"Guardians are not like our dead whose spirits move on to the bowls of the Spiritayum," he elaborated. "They're Spiritayian. Beings born to the spirit realm." He returned his gaze to the fire. He glanced toward the short stack of wood with a quick, calculating look. "Guardians are exceptional Spiritayians. They claim or are gifted a portion of our realm to watch over. Most can interact with us in ways many other Spiritayians can't. They're practically immortal and hold immense powers.
"Wonderland knows Caervolous as a Guardian. But you," he glanced to Ghent, "may recognize him as Carol's inspiration for the Blue Caterpillar." A sneer pulled at Drust's lips, detest glittering in his eyes. "He knows all, sees all. Not only from Wonderland. He can tell us what is, and what has been. Ask the right questions, and he'll tell us how to bring our enemy down. But, as with most Spiritayians, his services come at a price. We must each face him in his test. Succeed, and he's bound by soul and magic to answer our questions with the truth."
"Fail, and you get to be fertilizer for his mushrooms," Elayra grumbled.
Her jaw tightened as she tried to suppress a yawn. She shook her head, contemplating walking around the clearing. The last thing she wanted was to fall asleep and leave Drust and Ghent alone. With how the last day had gone, she wouldn't be surprised to wake up to the sounds of Curse-driven Drust murdering Ghent.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent held Drust's gaze, his mouth set in a stubborn line. It was the same look of defiance he got when he found himself in trouble for something he didn't do. In this case, he didn't feel he was underestimating Smaya. At least, not intentionally. He had reason to believe she had her limits -- she said herself she couldn't hold off the ghosts for long -- and he wanted Drust to know it.
Before he could inform Drust of his firsthand experience, Ghent's eyes dropped to the katana at Drust's side. He couldn't think of a way to tell the Knight without sounding like an opinionated know-it-all, which would likely anger him and lead to disaster.
What bothered Ghent more than walking on eggshells was seeing Elayra taking pleasure in him being wrong. He wanted to wipe the smug look off her face by asking her when she'd last spoken to the Guardian of the forest, except he didn't want to trigger the Curse. Instead of picking another fight, Ghent settled for saving his revenge for later.
"I guess there's no harm in asking her." Ghent offered, the words stiff and forced. He had his doubts and fears, but he saw the logic in contacting Smaya. They didn't have a lot of options, and she was the only one capable of helping them in such a forsaken place. If she was as strong as Drust thought her to be, it would be foolish not to seek her aid.
While Drust offered more information about Caervolous, Ghent leaned back to stretch his spine. His staff remained balanced across his lap, barely shifting despite the movement.
"Seriously? He's real too?" Ghent wasn't sure why the news came as a surprise to him, but it did. The temperamental, hookah-smoking caterpillar was impossible to forget. The thought of the insect being the inspiration for anyone was both frightening and hilarious.
"Does he..." Ghent stopped mid-sentence, unable to keep a straight face. He came dangerously close to asking if Caervolous smoked, but he decided against it when he saw the disdain from Drust. Ghent didn't want to be banned from asking questions relating to their present situation on top of everything else.
"Never mind." Ghent resumed a serious expression, waiting for the catch. Sure enough, there was one. A test. He hated tests.
"What kind of test?" Ghent demanded, suddenly sitting straight as a board. His hands moved to his staff at the fertilizer comment, and it was right then and there he decided he hated the man called Caervolous.
"The last time I took a test without preparing, I flunked it." Ghent rambled, his memories of high school far from forgotten. He frowned at them suddenly, wondering if they would have told him about the test had he not asked. "You guys really love telling me this type of stuff last minute, don't you?"</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
[Dang it! Oops Post. Now I'm gonna be all thrown off. *Cries.*]</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent winced. Once again, he managed to get on Drust's nerves. Or what was left of them. He shifted his weight to his other foot, making no attempt to speak in fear of agitating him. Hopefully the Curse wouldn't rear its ugly head again.
As Drust began to explain about his memories being intact, Ghent relaxed slightly. Using his staff to support his weight, he leaned forward, listening with intense curiosity. Up until that moment, he thought the Knights were a class rather than a race. He took a breath when Drust addressed his special abilities, one of the questions that interested him most of all.
Ghent could barely keep up with Drust's many strengths and skills. "You're like Wolverine or something!" he exclaimed, louder than he intended to. He clasped a hand over his own mouth and looked in Elayra's direction, careful to lower his voice before speaking again. "He's a hero -- he has epic abilities too, and can withstand stuff that normal people can't," he explained, his words rushed in his hurry to speak without interrupting.
As if that wasn't enough for Ghent to fanboy over, Drust informed him that a vinifcium had the potential to match a Knight in combat.
"No way…" Ghent couldn't begin to imagine such a thing possible. At least, he couldn't imagine himself against Drust. It was difficult enough fighting with his peers, how could he take down someone created for combat? By all accounts, Drust seemed indestructible. Except for his one weakness, of course.
While all of the information was new, Drust being weak against magic didn't come as a surprise to Ghent. He remembered Elayra saying something about that during their misadventures through the forest. It was something he didn't think much about before, but it was kind of awesome to have access to the Knight's kryptonite.
"Sorry about earlier," Ghent piped up, feeling compelled to offer some sort of apology. "I never meant to hit you. Or Elayra." He wanted to ask how Drust used magic when it posed such a threat to him, but the Knight went on to reveal perhaps the most shocking piece of information about himself.
"You…what?" Ghent leaned too far forward and almost fell. He knew Hatter was powerful, but not that powerful. He stared at the Knight in a mixture of amazement and disbelief, his blue eyes wide with wonder. In that rare moment, he was at a loss for words.
"He created you?" Ghent blanched. "But, that's…I mean," he ran a hand through his hair before gesturing to him with the same hand. "Look at you! You're perfect! I can't even make a paper plane!" he paced back and forth, shaking his head while he tried to comprehend that such magic existed. The power to create beings was insane. Nearly godlike. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. He couldn't believe he was the son of someone so exceptional.
Thirty-five years ago... Ghent stopped mid-pace, frowning at his sneakers in thought. He fell quiet again, but the silence didn't last long. "Did he create all of you? Or...were their other vinifcium then?"</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
The last thing the Knight had expected from Ghent was an apology. It gave Drust pause in his explanations, his gaze resting momentarily on the boy. He exhaled heavily and nodded. "You're inexperienced," he began, his tone a stiff drone as he struggled to keep the guilt of why that was from rising to more than a whisper in the back of his mind. "Accidents are to be expected. But use caution."
Drust looked over when Ghent nearly fell, the movement catching his eye. His brows rose as he took in the boy's wonder. Drust's mouth twitched downward in a frown. There was far too much the boy didn't know.
He sighed heavily at Ghent's final comments and last questions. He took a deep breath, turned back to the fire, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He should've woken Ghent up earlier.
"I'm far from perfect, boy," he snapped, harsher than he'd intended. "Hatter created a decent amount of us. But no, not all of us of the non-human guard. His master created many of us before him. The palace has only ever had one official vinifcium at a time."
He took another breath and glanced toward Ghent. "Creating White and Black Knights takes a tremendous amount of energy. And a sound connection with magic itself. I know little about its process. But Hatter always said magic does most of the work. Nonetheless, his first attempt left him drained and unconscious for a week." A small smirk quirked his lips. "He theorized he'd put too much of himself into the process with me. As a result, that leaked into the final product. Making me a bit different."
He curled the hand resting on his knee into a fist, then opened it. He stared at it as if waiting for something unusual to demonstrate his difference, but nothing happened.
He sighed heavily and let his hand dangle from his knee. "I don't need much sleep. But I still need it." He reached over and readjusted his pack. "If you have no further questions regarding taking a watch, we'll continue our conversation upon the morrow."</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent was too amazed to be concerned over Drust's initial irritation. Almost everything about Wonderland provided something that would have been thought impossible on Earth. Every moment spent in their world challenged him to adapt.
"Two weeks..." Ghent murmured, disbelief written all over his face. Since Hatter put so much of himself into Drust's creation, he wondered if any of that was visibly apparent. Did the Knight resemble Hatter? Did they sound alike? Did they share similar mannerisms? Ghent's mind spun with so many questions, his head hurt. He could have easily spent his two hours of watch duty by questioning Drust.
"That's pretty intense," he added, still marveling over the fact that Drust was a result of his father's connection with magic. He took notice of the smirk, and the way the Knight stared at his palm. Ghent waited for something to happen, but nothing did. Perhaps the Knight was reflecting on his creation date. Ghent couldn't imagine starting life as a teenager -- it was strange, and a little sad that Drust didn't have a childhood to look back on, or a family. Unless...
Ghent's eyes widened as a realization hit him. Since his father was responsible for Drust's creation, did that mean they were related? Perhaps not by blood, but...
Just as Ghent began to ask, Drust put an end to the conversation.
"O-oh. Okay." Even though he had more things he wanted to say, Ghent wasn't disappointed. He managed to get more information out of the Knight than he expected to, and learned some more about his father in the process.
"Well, talk to you tomorrow." Offering a small wave, Ghent turned, hopeful that was the case. If he spoke to Drust beforehand, that would mean they had an intruder. Or intruders. Biting his bottom lip, Ghent surveyed the clearing as much as the firelight would allow. From what he could tell, nothing seemed amiss.
Thankfully, the conversation stimulated his mind enough to stay awake. He remained sore and overall terrified, but at least he had answers. Little by little, the pieces of his past were coming together.
Keeping his staff at his side, Ghent began to circle the clearing. Taking care not to disturb the others, he kept his footsteps light and kept his head on a swivel. If anything ambushed them, he knew he had mere seconds to react. Pushing his fear aside as much as possible, Ghent continued onward, determined to fulfill his task.</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
As soon as it was Elayra's turn to keep watch, Ghent handed over the OmniChrono and returned to his backpack. He mumbled some sort of warning about the fog to her, but the words came out in a slurred, jumbled mess. Unsurprisingly, it didn't take long for him to fall into a deep sleep, his surroundings completely lost to him.
When morning came around, Ghent was lying on his back, his arms and legs sprawled out in weird angles like he'd fallen from a tree. He would have stayed that way for hours, had it not been for Elayra. The grip on his shoulder pulled Ghent out of his dreamless sleep, startling him awake.
"What? What's going on?" Ghent started to sit up, completely disoriented. As Elayra came into focus, he heard her mention breakfast. Normally, that would be enough to entice him, but he was too tired to care about food. He groaned and flopped his head against his backpack, pulling the cloak over his face in the same action.
"Breakfast? My stomach isn't even awake yet!" Ghent complained, the words muffled underneath the fabric. He wasn't ready to face the day, and he definitely wasn't ready to face Wonderland.
As if to prove his statement wrong, his stomach growled. Ghent grimaced. He wanted nothing more than to get a few more precious moments of sleep, but the prospect of getting out of Hollow Forest was enough for him to reconsider.
Slow as a sloth, he sat up, the cloak slipping down to settle in his lap. "Fiiine," he sighed in defeat, suspecting had no choice in the matter regardless of what he wanted. He began to stand, stiff and sore after their misadventures through Wonderland.
"Let me guess. We're eating that weird, bumpy jerky again," he rubbed at his eye, sniffing once as he studied her face. "And it's Ghent, Blondie," he grumbled, knocking a stray twig out of his hair. "How'd you sleep? Man, that Kingly Cure-All sure knocked you out. I thought you were in a coma or something."</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra pulled back when Ghent stirred. Remaining crouched, she rested her hands on her knees. He wasn't the quickest waker, but at least it didn't take more than one attempt to get him up.
She rolled her eyes as his stomach contradicted Ghent's statement. "Riiight."
She stood as he did. Her cloak shifted as she crossed her arms over her chest. She sighed heavily, noticing his stiff movements. If that didn't work itself out, he'd slow them down. And the last thing she wanted was to have to spend more time in Hollow Forest than necessary.
She glanced to the lightening forest. A couple shapes swirled in the fog, wandering almost in a confused state before vanishing.
She turned her attention back to Ghent with a snort at his comment about the jerky. "Get used to it. There's nothing to hunt here, anyway." She frowned as the memory of her last kill, the deerdrin, came longingly to mind. Though she didn't mind the toatunt jerky, she'd take deerdrin instead any day. "Living animals don't come here. Even the Cursed ones are too smart for that."
She shrugged at his question. "Felt like I was in a coma. But it worked." She rubbed the back of her head lightly, the bump that had formed there already gone. "And it's Elayra, Featherhead," she added, smirking to attempt hiding her annoyance at the nickname.
She glanced to Drust as he pulled a worn hooded cowl from his bag. He let it drop beside the bundle of jerky, a piece of the cured meat in his mouth.
She reached into her pouch again and removed the OmniChrono. "Drust."
As soon as he focused on her, Elayra tossed the Chrono to him.
He caught it easily in one hand and grabbed the bundle of jerky in the other. Without missing a beat, he tossed the bundle to her. He jerked his head to Ghent as he placed the Chrono in one of the belt pouches already in their place at his waist.
"What's it gonna be?" She held the long bundle out to Ghent. "Breakfast, or starve until you have the time to hunt and skin something else?"
Drust tore off the end of his jerky with his teeth. "There won't be time," he growled around the jerky. He closed his pack and glanced to Ghent. "Keep out a couple pieces. Put the rest in your pack." He slipped the cowl on over his head, keeping the hood down. It matched the rest of his brown and black clothing, its once vivid coloring faded with use and age. "We've delayed enough as it is."</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
The comment threw Ghent through a loop. Was he actually expected to hunt and skin his own food? The idea didn't sit well with him. He almost threw up in the school bathroom after he got stuck dissecting an abnormally large rat. Before he could dwell too much into it, Drust's irritable voice reminded him that he needed to make a decision.
"U-uh. Yeah. I'll dissect – eat -- the toatunt," he hastily corrected himself as he took the bundle. He inwardly cringed as he unwrapped the cloth, selecting a few pieces of jerky before handing the remaining half back to Elayra.
Sniffling, Ghent bit off a corner piece with the least amount of bumps on it. He studied Drust as he instructed him what to do with the extra portions, their conversation from the night before fresh in his mind. He wanted to ask the Knight more about himself and Hatter, but realized it was a poor time.
Keeping the jerky between his teeth and the rest in his fist, Ghent returned to his belongings. He tossed the extra pieces inside of his backpack without bothering to wrap them in anything, grunting as he struggled to zip the now-stuck zipper. With one final tug, it zippered shut, but the zipper pull broke off.
"Seriously?" Ghent's mutterings were difficult to decipher with his mouth full of toatunt. He sat on top of his backpack like it was a beanbag chair, a weary sigh escaping him. He forced himself to take another bite of the strangely textured jerky, studying the hooded Knight as he ate.
Inspired by Drust and influenced by the temperature, Ghent grabbed his own cloak from the ground. He adjusted the fabric so it rested against his shoulders, secretly envying Drust's ability to make everything look cool.
"You know, if this didn't have bumps all over it, it wouldn't be half bad." Ghent swallowed another bite of breakfast, doing what he could to convince himself that the flavor wasn't as terrible as he remembered it. "It'd probably taste better with ketchup though."</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra pulled back when Ghent stirred. Remaining crouched, she rested her hands on her knees. He wasn't the quickest waker, but at least it didn't take more than one attempt to get him up.
She rolled her eyes as his stomach contradicted Ghent's statement. "Riiight."
She stood as he did. Her cloak shifted as she crossed her arms over her chest. She sighed heavily, noticing his stiff movements. If that didn't work itself out, he'd slow them down. And the last thing she wanted was to have to spend more time in Hollow Forest than necessary.
She glanced to the lightening forest. A couple shapes swirled in the fog, wandering almost in a confused state before vanishing.
She turned her attention back to Ghent with a snort at his comment about the jerky. "Get used to it. There's nothing to hunt here, anyway." She frowned as the memory of her last kill, the deerdrin, came longingly to mind. Though she didn't mind the toatunt jerky, she'd take deerdrin instead any day. "Living animals don't come here. Even the Cursed ones are too smart for that."
She shrugged at his question. "Felt like I was in a coma. But it worked." She rubbed the back of her head lightly, the bump that had formed there already gone. "And it's Elayra, Featherhead," she added, smirking to attempt hiding her annoyance at the nickname.
She glanced to Drust as he pulled a worn hooded cowl from his bag. He let it drop beside the bundle of jerky, a piece of the cured meat in his mouth.
She reached into her pouch again and removed the OmniChrono. "Drust."
As soon as he focused on her, Elayra tossed the Chrono to him.
He caught it easily in one hand and grabbed the bundle of jerky in the other. Without missing a beat, he tossed the bundle to her. He jerked his head to Ghent as he placed the Chrono in one of the belt pouches already in their place at his waist.
"What's it gonna be?" She held the long bundle out to Ghent. "Breakfast, or starve until you have the time to hunt and skin something else?"
Drust tore off the end of his jerky with his teeth. "There won't be time," he growled around the jerky. He closed his pack and glanced to Ghent. "Keep out a couple pieces. Put the rest in your pack." He slipped the cowl on over his head, keeping the hood down. It matched the rest of his brown and black clothing, its once vivid coloring faded with use and age. "We've delayed enough as it is."</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
The comment threw Ghent through a loop. Was he actually expected to hunt and skin his own food? The idea didn't sit well with him. He almost threw up in the school bathroom after he got stuck dissecting an abnormally large rat. Before he could dwell too much into it, Drust's irritable voice reminded him that he needed to make a decision.
"U-uh. Yeah. I'll dissect – eat -- the toatunt," he hastily corrected himself as he took the bundle. He inwardly cringed as he unwrapped the cloth, selecting a few pieces of jerky before handing the remaining half back to Elayra.
Sniffling, Ghent bit off a corner piece with the least amount of bumps on it. He studied Drust as he instructed him what to do with the extra portions, their conversation from the night before fresh in his mind. He wanted to ask the Knight more about himself and Hatter, but realized it was a poor time.
Keeping the jerky between his teeth and the rest in his fist, Ghent returned to his belongings. He tossed the extra pieces inside of his backpack without bothering to wrap them in anything, grunting as he struggled to zip the now-stuck zipper. With one final tug, it zippered shut, but the zipper pull broke off.
"Seriously?" Ghent's mutterings were difficult to decipher with his mouth full of toatunt. He sat on top of his backpack like it was a beanbag chair, a weary sigh escaping him. He forced himself to take another bite of the strangely textured jerky, studying the hooded Knight as he ate.
Inspired by Drust and influenced by the temperature, Ghent grabbed his own cloak from the ground. He adjusted the fabric so it rested against his shoulders, secretly envying Drust's ability to make everything look cool.
"You know, if this didn't have bumps all over it, it wouldn't be half bad." Ghent swallowed another bite of breakfast, doing what he could to convince himself that the flavor wasn't as terrible as he remembered it. "It'd probably taste better with ketchup though."</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
The distress on Ghent's face at her comment about hunting gave Elayra pause. Remembering a conversation they'd had back on Earth, she let out a low groan as Ghent took the bundle from her.
"Right," she began through a sigh. "You've never hunted before." She watched him take out more pieces of the jerky than she expected. He must've been extra hungry.
Her brows furrowed in confusion when he returned the remaining cloth-wrapped bundle to her instead of taking it and adding it to his pack as Drust had instructed. She took it nonetheless, trying to figure out what he was doing. When he tossed most of what he had grabbed into his backpack, realization dawned.
"For real, Featherhead?" she groaned as Drust growled softly and ran a hand down his face. "How hopeless are you?"
She really hoped incompetency wasn't contagious
An involuntary snarl on his face, Drust's neck twitched. He took a deep, steadying breath and closed his eyes as Ghent rambled on about the toatunt jerky.
Elayra rolled her eyes at Ghent and went to her rugged pack. "What do you expect from toad meat?"
Drust's lips tightened into a pale line. "Elayra!" he growled.
The girl sucked in a breath and spun toward him, hand moving to the hilt of her sword beneath her cloak. She opened her mouth to ask what she'd done, but then realized. He'd tried to keep that bit of information from Ghent the other night. And likely for good reason.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"What?" Ghent couldn't tell if Elayra was annoyed by something he said, did, or didn't do. Oblivious to his mistake, he took another bite of toatunt, an incredulous look on his face. He would never understand her.
In order to get his less-than-ideal breakfast over with, he stuffed another piece in his mouth, just in time to hear Elayra's disparaging comment.
Ghent's eyes went wide. He whipped his head around to seek out Drust, hoping – praying – that Elayra was playing a cruel joke. The Knight's reaction confirmed his fears. He'd eaten a toad. Twice.
Horrified, Ghent stared at the last bit of jerky in his hand, the texture suddenly making sense. His stomach lurched. Those weren't bumps, they were warts.
With a yell, Ghent dropped the jerky as if it had burned him. Suddenly, he was back in the school bathroom again, doing everything in his power not to throw up. Warts. He'd eaten warts! A few dozen of them, most likely.
The knowledge was scarring enough on its own, but his mouth was still full, and Ghent didn't dare spit out their rations in front of Drust. As if to make matters worse, his saliva was soaking into the jerky, helping extract what he believed to be swamp water. He had a choice: he could taste Drust's blade, or swallow what he now knew to be toad meat.
Ghent's skin crawled. He leaned forward on his palms, his head aimed downward. For a moment, it looked as if he was going to spit everything out – or vomit – but he did neither. He forced himself to choke down the rest, sputtering and coughing afterward as if he'd been poisoned. For all he knew, he had been.
"You…" Ghent drew a breath, his sentence broken by a ragged cough. "You guys didn't want me to eat chocolate...but you'll let me eat a TOAD?!" He clasped a hand over his mouth, clutching his side with the other as he gave an overdramatic groan. "...I think I'm gonna hurl."</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent collected his cloak from where it fell, cringing when he discovered his discarded portion of toatunt nearby. He crouched down next to his backpack, pulling it toward him by one of the straps.
Adapt, boy. Or you won't survive Wonderland. Ghent unzipped the backpack by what remained of the zipper, a quiet sigh escaping him. Adapt, or I won't survive you, he responded in his head, his inner voice bitter. He hated that he seemed to have a knack for pushing all of Drust's buttons. I ate it, didn't I? Why's he gotta nitpick everything?
Although Drust's movement was slow, Ghent froze when he reached for his katana. If Drust's abilities also covered reading minds, Ghent was as good as dead.
Thankfully, Drust was merely getting ready. Ghent resumed breathing, embarrassed by how easily the man terrified him. He checked that Hatter's journal was still there, pausing when he realized he hadn't put on his cloak yet.
Putting on a cloak with a bulky backpack wasn't ideal, but Ghent doubted he could fit the cloak in with the rest of his clothes. Plus, the early morning air was chilling, and he didn't want to be the only one without a cloak.
Zipping up his backpack, Ghent slipped it on and drew the cloak over himself, pulling the hood over his head to keep the fabric in place. He began to fidget with the clasps to secure them, but Elayra's movement caught his eye. From what he could tell, she undid something on her cloak, which created an opening to allow her backpack to fit through.
Curious if his cloak had the same feature, Ghent removed the cloak and turned it over to examine the back. At first, he couldn't see anything, but then he noticed a seam of sorts. He pulled on opposite sides of the fabric, and two snaps came undone. He mimicked the action on the other side, which offered room for his backpack.
Smaya's kept her promise.
Ghent looked up sharply, startled by Drust's voice. He nodded in response, thankful that at least something had gone right.
You're welcome, by the way. Ghent tugged at the cloak to fix it, reflecting on his second visit with Smaya. He thought about the lost souls in the pool, their troubles significantly worse than accidentally consuming toad meat. He suddenly felt heavier, and it wasn't because of the weight of his backpack.
Noticing the others were waiting, Ghent hurried over to regroup with them, adjusting his cloak as he moved. He tugged at the fabric, attempting to lock the clasps together with one hand. In his opposite hand, he carried his staff.
Seeing Drust near the edge of the Safe Zone was troubling. If the trek through Hollow Forest was anything like yesterday, their emotions would be tampered with, which would make their journey more dangerous than he already was.
After some trouble, both clasps finally locked in place. Ghent glanced at Elayra, suspecting she had similar concerns when it came to their guardian.
Doing what he could to mask the worry he felt, Ghent nodded to show he was ready. At least, as ready as he could be.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
To her surprise, Ghent had even figured out the hidden slots at the back of Drust's cloak. She wiped the shocked, yet impressed look from her face as Ghent finished and joined her.
She returned Ghent's nod with one of her own. Turning, she strode to where Drust waited.
Drust glanced to Elayra as she slowly stepped up just behind him. "As before." He looked back out to the swirling fog. "Ghent in the middle."
Elayra hesitated. If he suddenly gave in to the Curse, having Ghent as the nearest target seemed like a horrible idea. "Might be better if I take center."
Drust looked to her again. His eyes narrowed, but Elayra held her ground, chin raised. With a grunt, he gave a single, curt nod. OmniChrono still in hand, Drust took a deep breath and stepped out of the clearing.
A blue light rippled outward from Drust's form. Between the fog and clearing's barrier, the knight became little more than a blur.
Elayra looked over her shoulder at Ghent. "Like yesterday, even if the ghosts do take interest, they're weak during the day." She turned back to the tree line. "And try not to let the fog get to you."
Elayra took a deep breath of her own, trying to prepare herself for the onslaught of emotions she knew awaited her. Holding her breath, she stepped into haunted forest.
As it had when she entered, the world around her seemed to stretch, the sensation extra disorientating paired with the swirling mist. But this time, she was ready for it. She stumbled out on the other side, but kept her footing.
The despair of the place hit her first. Then the utter silence, dampened further by the chilled fog. The morning's cool hung heavier outside the Safe Zone, the once bright colors of the forest coated in glittering gray.
She grit her teeth and swallowed, hard. Remembering Ghent was likely right behind her, she stepped forward to give him room.
The fog danced around her and toyed at her form. It created its unnatural patches of mist-coated air and clear spaces around her. Drust stood no more than a pace away. He looked fuzzy, but the mist abated around him long enough for her to make out that he had his fingers again tangled in his hair, head bent slightly.
Elayra quickly reached for her sword. "Drust?" she asked, slowly drawing her weapon, just in case. The gentle shing as it left its scabbard sounded loud in the eerie silence.
"Fine, girl." He inhaled and pulled his hand from his hair, the strands already limp from the dampness in the air. He spared a quick glance back, checking that both the teens were with him. Satisfied, he focused on the Chrono and stepped forward.
Elayra looked back at Ghent. "Stay close. If we lose each other in this fog, remember we're heading south. Following the rising sun."
Not wanting to risk Drust getting too far ahead, Elayra turned and followed after the Knight.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Without questioning the order, Ghent began to move into place. He halted mid-step, his mouth falling open slightly after Elayra objected to the idea. He gripped his staff tighter, anxious as he waited for Drust to react. To his disbelief, the Knight approved and no one died.
Amazed by her fearlessness, Ghent kept to Elayra's left. He nodded stiffly, staring dead ahead. He suspected the ghosts would take interest in them, but if what Elayra said was true, he had nothing to fear. He steeled himself in a false sense of confidence, hopeful Smaya's help would be enough to secure them a safe and undisturbed passage.
His attempt at optimism didn't last long. The second Ghent followed Drust and Elayra into the forest, Wonderland's nonsensical ways trifled with reality. The way his surroundings stretched was similar to a funhouse, only Ghent wasn't having any fun. He averted his gaze to quell the dizzying sensation, but it didn't help. If anything, looking away made him feel worse.
Ghent fell forward near the end, dangerously close to colliding into Elayra. He used his staff to regain balance, silently thankful he went through last. Shaking his head to refocus, he staggered, taking up the room Elayra provided by moving ahead.
What struck Ghent first was the overwhelming silence. A sudden rush of despair overpowered him, a feeling so strong it hurt to breathe. Brows furrowed, he studied what he could of the clearing, most of it lost in the fog. Elayra was already hazy, and she was barely a foot away. Drust was harder to see, but Ghent could tell the Knight was fighting against his own emotions. He tensed as Elayra drew her sword, lessening his hold on his own weapon once Drust responded.
"O-okay." Ghent's mouth felt dry. He didn't want to get separated. He was fairly certain if he got lost, that was the end of the road for him. Paranoid at the thought, he disregarded personal space and practically became Elayra's shadow. He continued this way for a better part of their journey, silently struggling against his negative thoughts made worse by Hollow Forest.</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
But aren't we Omitten? Ghent was already screaming internally. They were exhausted from traveling all day, which meant they were at a disadvantage. At least, he was. He didn't know about Elayra. He eyed the girl skeptically, searching her for signs of weariness. She seemed tired, but not that tired. He sighed softly in discouragement. Elayra was probably used to traveling on foot all day.
Ghent chewed his bottom lip. The news was enough for him to question the Knight's decision making, but he didn't voice his opinion. He had a feeling Elayra would side with Drust, plus he needed to hear more of what she knew.
He stared at her as she continued to explain, his eyes growing wide as the information grew worse. Hollow Forest suddenly didn't seem like the scariest place in Wonderland anymore.
Although Ghent remembered the Forsaken, he didn't remember the Forgen being mentioned. He gave the stiffest of nods, waiting impatiently as she took a drink. He tugged at the drawstring on his hoodie, anxiously awaiting a description to go along with the name.
Ghent relaxed slightly after Elayra referred to the Forgen as idiots. If they were stupid, he hoped they could be outsmarted and therefore avoided. He appeared contemplative, lost in his own thoughts until she compared his intelligence to one.
"Hey!" Ghent protested, but he wasn't mad. The second jab was a nice reminder that he had a matter of revenge to attend to.
"Believe me, I have no desire to mingle with zombies." Ghent scoffed at the idea, tugging on his hoodie's opposite drawstring to even the laces out. He looked back to the water, his expression tight. Elayra seemed more matter-of-fact than afraid. A smirk ghosted his lips. Maybe it was time to give her a little scare.
"Well...thanks for filling me in." Ghent leaned back, using his palms to keep himself upright. "It sounds terrible, but we've dealt with ghosts. Not to mention the shadowm--" he stopped midsentence, the words catching in his throat. He sat up with a horrified gasp, pointing behind her frantically. "SHADOWMIRE!"
Despite the overly dramatic warning, nothing was there. It was Ghent's grand idea of a joke. He burst into laughter seconds after, thinking himself hilarious.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra smirked at his comment about the zombies. "Good to know you have that sense!" She glanced to the treeline as a bush rustled. Her body tensed, ready to stand, and her hand went to her the hilt of her sword.
From the underbrush, she saw a trio of tiny chicken-like feet a second before they dashed away.
Content it wasn't anything harmless—even bloodthirsty prey knew to run from a battle it couldn't win—she relaxed slightly.
Ghent's voice drew her attention back to him. She eyed him suspiciously at his thanks. She didn't much care for the look in his eyes. She raised her brows, waiting for him to return her jibes, but instead, his words cut off, his face twisting in terror.
Heart pounding in her throat, Elayra drew her saber as she sprung to her feet before Ghent's shout fully left his lips. If a shadowmire had found them, then so, too, had the Red Queen.
Inwardly cursing herself for not noticing approaching danger, she spun around and stepped from the tree. She searched frantically for the feline monsters or their telltale shadows, ready to fight or flee for their lives. Or both. If nothing else, she had to keep the Sorceress from getting Ghent. As much as she hated admitting it, his magic was their best chance at bringing the Crimson Rule to an end.
But she saw nothing out of place. Then, she heard Ghent's laughter. Slowly, realization dawned on her. There was no danger.
A prank. He'd played a sick, twisted version of a prank.
Heat rose through Elayra's chest. Her breaths hissed between grit teeth. Her hand tightened on her sword, the other clenching at her side.
Elayra spun back around and barreled into the still guffawing Ghent. Using her weight and momentum, she shoved his back to the ground with a hand at his chest, her sword pressing against his throat. She transferred her free hand to the grass behind him to keep from falling with him. She leaned over him, knees on either side of his body.
"You think that's funny?" she growled through her teeth, the words coming out breathlessly in her rage. Her gray eyes burned with her fury. "You think our lives are something to joke around with?" She pressed the sharp edge of the blade harder against him, not caring whether or not it broke skin. It took every ounce of willpower to not put an end to him then and there.
Instead, she bent her arm so her face came within inches of his. "You're a disgrace, you wretched, good-for-nothing—" Instead of finishing, she cut herself off with a heated shout. Gritting her teeth, she bent her head then pulled away before she could do something she'd regret.
She stepped away from him. Incapable of standing to look at him, she turned her back. She tried to take a few breaths to calm herself, but it did little to quell her anger. She glanced down to the sword in her hand.
"Unsheathe your staff," she growled as she faced back toward Ghent.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Elayra's reaction was better than Ghent could have hoped for. He cracked up at her expense, silently congratulating himself for an act convincing enough to fool her.
Alas, his amusement was short-lived. His laughter morphed into a shout as Elayra slammed into him, his back hitting the ground with more force than he would have expected from a girl her size. Before he could even think to react, he felt the pointed end of a sword pressing against his neck.
Ghent saw Elayra angry before, but this was a new level of anger. When she asked if he thought his prank was funny, he was foolish enough to try responding with a truthful answer. "…Moderately?" he ventured, yelping as she pressed the sword closer. It was officially time to panic.
"Okay—okay!" Ghent gasped. He was astounded by the rage in her eyes, a look strongly reminiscent of the madman who raised her. "It isn't funny!" he raised his hands in a show of surrender, hissing a breath once she pressed the blade close enough to draw blood.
Left with few options, Ghent stayed still. He stared up at Elayra as she began to insult him, her words sharp as her sword. He knew she didn't exactly think the world of him, but he didn't think her opinion of him was that low. He gritted his teeth, keeping silent as she vented. If he antagonized her further, he'd have more than his aching feet to worry about.
Elayra cut her rant short, opting to shout in frustration instead. In that moment, Ghent thought he was done for. He moved his hands to shove her in a last-ditch effort to save himself, but he didn't have to. She brought the blade away.
Ghent wasted no time. He scrambled to his feet and took a step back, baffled by her reaction to what he perceived as a harmless prank. He placed his fingers to his neck, checking to see if the blade pierced his skin.
"Are you crazy!?" he shouted, his voice shriller than it had been. He glared at her fumingly, his face flushed. He flinched when she turned around, dumbfounded by the command that left her lips.
"Unsheathe my…" Ghent repeated part of her sentence, amazed by her unbridled anger. Elayra was supposed to be immune, but her behavior resembled someone under the Curse's influence.
Without taking his eyes off of the enraged blonde, Ghent knelt on one knee to grab his staff. He rose to his full height, wielding the weapon sideways in front of himself. "Would you chill for a minute?" He gripped the staff tighter, desperately wishing she would reconsider her apparent desire to duel. "It was a joke, okay?! You don't have to go all Princess Mononoke on me!"</s>
|
<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
The magic answered Ghent's call almost immediately. He grinned as the shield came into creation, the sight exciting him despite the danger he was in. Before he could so much as blink, the strength of the shield was put to the test.
The barrier absorbed most of the monster's impact, but it didn't take all of it. Ghent fell, the shield flickering as he hit the ground. The sensation was similar to when he skateboarded into the pole of a streetlight. Except the streetlight didn't have long, thorny tongues to worry about.
Groaning, Ghent forced himself to his feet, daring a quick glance in Elayra's direction. When he looked back to the monster, he discovered the shield had vanished completely. Whether this was due to his lapse in concentration or overall fatigue, he couldn't tell, but he didn't have the strength to reconnect with the world's magic.
Crap! Ghent gripped his head in an effort to refocus. He turned with the creature as it began to circle him, the tongues making another appearance. He jumped back clumsily to avoid them, a move that took him further away from the river and his weapon. While this went on, the commotion behind him increased as Elayra sprang into action.
Ghent eyed his staff, visibly tense. His wrist and neck stung, pieces of broken thorns still embedded in his flesh. If he wanted to avoid further injury, he needed to act before the monster lashed out again.
Left with few options, Ghent forced his aching legs into a run. He made a beeline for his staff, but he had another objective in mind. At the last possible second, he changed direction. His sneakers skidded against the damp ground, the friction creating indents in the mud. If he ran fast enough and moved in a zigzag, maybe he had a chance to reach the lake in one piece.
While Ghent made an effort to flee, he overheard the first monster howl in pain. He turned his head, stunned by the sight of its leg crumbling into a sad pile of rubble.
How? Ghent gawked, catching a glimpse of post-battle Elayra. His eyes went wide when he noticed the glint from the dagger in her hand. No way. Could a blade really could penetrate rock? It didn't matter. His weapon was left on the ground.
"Are you coming or not?!" Ghent shouted to her as he veered left, unsure what her plan entailed.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
The rock beast gave a quick, yelping growl in delighted surprise when Ghent made a dive for his weapon. More importantly, toward it. It hunkered down and pounced at his apparent challenge. Its tongues lashed out ahead of it for the foolish arm it anticipated reaching for the staff.
Its surprised glee turned into a furious growl as it skid to the ground, its prey lost to the beast in Ghent's rush for to the river.
Meanwhile, Elayra slid to a stop on the damp ground, mud and grass stains streaking her back. Ignoring the sting of the slide, she hopped to her feet. She ran toward Ghent, ready to help him. But he'd somehow managed to hold his own, even beating her to the punchline of making for the stream.
She altered her path to join him in the race for the burbling water.
Behind Ghent, the leaner rock beast let out a grinding growl and leapt after the boy. Its tongues unfurled from its mouth again, what broken bits of thorns it suffered already regrown. The vines shot forward at calf-height, aiming to trip him before he reached the water. Both lashed out at different areas in an attempt at predicting where the boy would zag to next.
"Ghent! Behin—!"
Her words cut off in a strangled gasp as her own monster's tongue wrapped around her neck. It tugged, hard, making her stumble back She half-turned and raised her dagger to cut the beast's tongue.
The monster hurtled toward her in a lumbering, uneven gait. Its tongues, twisted together to form a single thick rope, reeled into its mouth as it neared like a fishing line. The rocks of its mostly missing leg tumbled after it in a dusty cloud to reform the missing limb.
Doubting she could sever the thick tongue in time, she gripped it with her free hand to give herself more slack, thorns biting into her palm. At the last possible second, she tossed herself from the monster's direct path.
Its eyes glowed brighter in fear as it hurtled to the water rather than into its target.
Elayra rasped a gasp, tumbling forward and nearly dropping her knife as the beast tried to use its hold on her as an anchor to keep itself from the stream. But it was too little, too late.
The beast's front foot caught on a tree root hidden beneath the earth. It tumbled head-over-heals with a loud, terrified screech, the sound a sharp stone scraping against a chalkboard. It fell into the water with a hissing splash like hot coals doused in a bucket of water.
Before she could free herself, the now short leash of its tongue dragged Elayra into the water behind it. The deeper center of the stream swallowed them whole.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
The river couldn't have been more than nine feet away, but it felt twice that far. Before Ghent had a chance to heed Elayra's warning, the vine caught just above his sneaker. He tripped and flew forward, hitting the ground so hard his teeth clacked together. The fall cost him precious seconds, placing him in harm's way yet again.
Elayra wasn't any better off. Still grounded, Ghent witnessed the injured beast's retaliation. Its tongue caught Elayra around her neck, doing what it could to restrain her. It then charged with the aggression of an angry bull, leaving oddly shaped footprints with each step.
Ghent couldn't seem to catch his breath. It was hard enough to save his own skin, but now he had Elayra to worry about. If he didn't move fast, things were about to get ugly for both of them.
Spurred by the desire to survive, Ghent quickly rolled over, jerking his foot away in fear of being snared. He clambered to regain his footing, only too aware that he and Elayra were right where the monsters wanted them. Somehow he had to avoid their attacks while also helping to free her.
Elayra acted before Ghent had the chance to spout off another focus word. Thanks to her quick reflexes, she narrowly avoided the collision, but the vine was still wrapped around her neck.
What happened next was a blur. The river stood in the path of the monster, and the beast was moving too fast to change course. It lost its footing, tipping dangerously. Ghent's eyes grew wide, his brain connecting the dots before the scene could play out.
The monster toppled into the water, and it took Elayra along with it.
"Elayra!" Panic set in. Ghent didn't know how deep the water was, but if she was anchored down…
Terrified she'd drown, the boy forgot his surroundings and ran blindly after them.</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Acting on sheer adrenaline, Ghent sped forward at full speed. When he reached the edge of the bank, he leapt, the boost shortening his distance before he collided with the river.
The cold engulfed him, the animalistic wails of the leaner rock muffled beneath the water. Ghent shot up with a gasp, his feet meeting the ground when he extended his legs. When standing, the water stopped around his chest.
"Elayra?!" Ghent scramble-swam to get closer to the correct location, his eyes never straying from the spot Elayra disappeared from. The movement below confirmed his suspicions that he was in the right spot.
Taking in a quick, shaky breath, Ghent dropped underneath the water.
At first, he didn't see anything. His vision was compromised by the dirt, and the suffering beast's thrashing made it difficult to tell what was going on. Ghent barely spared the monster a glance, his eyes scanning for Elayra. Sure enough, she was stuck nearby.
From what Ghent could make out, Elayra was conscious, but at the mercy of their foe. She was on her knees, the slicing motion of her hand indicating she still had the knife.
Kicking his legs behind him, Ghent swam through the bits of unearthed debris to get closer. Ignoring the natural desire to take a breath, he bent his knees to be level with Elayra. He assessed the situation as best he could, his brow furrowed with concern. The beast was jostling her around so aggressively, he couldn't tell what was going on with its tongue.
Just die already! Ghent wanted to scream at the monster. Using both hands, he grabbed hold of the tongue just below the area she cut. Ignoring the thorns cutting into his flesh, he held on tightly, seeking out the place Elayra worked to cut. A mark was there, but it wasn't enough to break away, and he was positive she wouldn't have the strength to sever the rest on her own.
Ghent made the decision to let go, and instead grabbed for the knife in an attempt to take it from her. He grit his teeth, sensing her resistance.
With his free hand, he motioned wildly to himself to indicate he could take over. Time was ticking at a nauseating pace, and he believed himself better capable of finishing the job.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Her last, small breath hadn't been near enough. As the beast's struggles slowed, the water fizzling and bubbling around it, so, too, did Elayra's. Her lungs screamed at her to inhale, and her vision crackled with spots at the edges. She felt the pressure she put behind the sharp blade begin to wane faster than she'd expected.
She kept only two thoughts in her head, two orders to focus on beyond her burning lungs:
Don't drop her dagger.
Survive.
A hand touched hers, trying to take her weapon. The surprise sent a last burst of focus to her brain, and her grip tightened instinctively around the dagger's hilt. She looked toward the second hand's owner, the terrified fire burning in her gaze nearly brighter than the dying core of the nearby rock monster.
Ghent?!
Though the water turned his form into little more than a dirty blur, she was positive it was him. Even amidst the stirred muck, she got the gist of his wild gestures.
Reluctantly, she handed the dagger toward him hilt first. Her grip loosened on it more from lack of oxygen than will, only the buoyancy from the water keeping her arm level.
Only feet away, the rock beast's movements slowed further. Its weak body slumped against the riverbed, sending an extra cloud of earth into the water. Its fiery core sputtered and sparked, fighting for life as fiercely as Elayra as it dwindled, its armor nearly entirely torn away by the stream's currents.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Had he been on land, Ghent would have heaved a sigh of relief. He hurriedly accepted the dagger, almost losing sight of it as the murkiness of the water increased. He didn't have time to think, only act. He had one shot at saving Elayra from drowning.
He grabbed the vine again, pulling it as tautly as he could. The monster's thrashing had already slowed considerably, a sign the beast was fading fast.
Elayra's fading too. The thought sent another surge of panic through Ghent, bubbles escaping his mouth during an accidental exhale. He clenched his teeth, hoping to steel his nerves.
Focus. Jaw set in determination, he slid the blade down until it met with the indentation Elayra made. He began sawing at the rest, moving as quickly and effectively as the water would allow. His eyes flickered toward where Elayra was supposed to be, but the water was too murky to check her status.
Ghent continued to work feverishly, inwardly cursing the monster for their predicament. Although the vine was inches from his face, he couldn't see enough to tell how much progress he'd made.
A month in Hollow Forest couldn't have prepared Ghent for the terror he felt. His lungs began to hurt, his desire to take a breath gnawing at him like an annoying itch he couldn't scratch. He couldn't imagine how Elayra felt, but he would know soon enough if the vine didn't break.
The surface was close enough to taunt them, the thin line between life and death available to them if only they stood. For both their sake, Ghent refused to give up. If he didn't drown with her, Drust would surely kill him when he found out what happened. Either way, Ghent's fate was intertwined with hers.
His effort paid off. After what felt like forever, Ghent felt something give. The blade had broken through the vine.
Ghent dropped the dagger. Without giving her much time to react, he grabbed Elayra by arm and shot to his feet, pulling the girl with him. As they broke through the water, he gasped and coughed. He gripped her shoulders tightly, searching her face with wildly for any sign of life. "Are you okay?!" His voice cracked between a ragged cough, his face drained of color. "Say something!"</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent mentally counted each time Elayra disappeared underneath the water. One, two, three times. He wondered how many attempts it would take her before she found the dagger or gave up. When she emerged for the fourth time, he looked in her direction. From what he could tell, she was in the correct location. He hoped she would find the weapon soon, if only for his sake.
The boy secured the bandaging around his wrist, watching in amazement as the collection of debris steadily grew on the bank. Sticks, a mirror, an assortment of bottles and cans…at least Earth wasn't the only world with pollution.
Forcing his attention back to his injuries, Ghent began to clean at the bloodied marks around his neck. He winced as he heard the girl emerge from the water a fifth time, her agitation evident even in her breaths.
Finally, the blonde gave up. Ghent swallowed uneasily as she began to make her way toward the bank, her hands empty. Finished with the moondrop milk, he fit the stopper in its place and returned the bottle to the box. He wanted to be done and out of the way before she got back.
A loud clang sounded nearby, making Ghent's heart do a somersault. He whipped his head around to find the culprit, scowling when he realized Elayra was responsible. He almost scolded her, but changed his mind when he saw her take her frustration out a bottle.
Taking a breath, the boy braced himself for Elayra's wrath. The lost dagger would undoubtedly be a source of tension for a while. He didn't make eye contact as she approached, his mouth set in a grim line. He glanced at her when she stopped and regretted it instantly. The contempt in her eyes spoke volumes.
Unnerved, Ghent looked away. He didn't see the point in pleading his case. If saving Elayra's life wasn't enough to cut him a bit of slack, nothing was. He only hoped his silence would be enough until she cooled down.
The silence was broken by Elayra, who pointed out that he was still wet. Ghent's mouth fell when she ordered him to remove his clothes, but then she tossed a pair of pants at him.
"Er…" Ghent contemplated pointing out the obvious. The pants wouldn't fit him. He wasn't even sure if they'd stay up. He lifted the too-long trousers in front of himself, the legs unraveling. The fabric seemed to go on forever. Casting a skeptical look in Elayra's direction, he held the pants up higher to show her the length. "Aren't these a little big?"</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Without waiting for Ghent's response, Elayra plunged her arm back into the bag. Her movements were jerky, heated, as she tried to recall what Drust's spare daggers looked like to call one to her from the pack's depths. She thought he had a stiletto, but she wasn't entirely sure if it had been his, or borrowed.
Her search and thoughts stopped at Ghent's complaints. A Drust-worthy sneer curled over her lips as she glowered up at him.
"Would you rather just stand around in your damp underwear?" she snapped. "They need to dry. We can't leave them behind, but they'll make everything else in your pack wet." Her hand closed in a fist inside Drust's bag. Instead of grasping air, she recognized the shape of a hilt against her palm. "So shut up," she pulled it out and pointed the sheathed tip of the dagger she'd found threateningly at Ghent, "and figure it out."
She slapped the top flap of Drust's bag shut. She looked to the stiletto dagger as she slid the blade from its thin metal and leather scabbard, examining it with a critical eye.
It was nice enough, she supposed. The silvery metal turned the hilt into a spiral, ending in a small, elegant round pummel. Its blade's length matched what she'd grown accustomed to, only significantly thinner. Its edges glinted in the sunlight, sharp enough for use, but, in Elayra's eye, it was due for a date with a whetstone.
She tested its weight in her hand. Even with its entire metal construction, it felt lighter than her lost weapon. It felt… wrong. Like she was betraying her other dagger. Betraying the trust of who it once belonged to. More importantly, betrayed Drust by losing it.
Her lips tightened and she gripped the hilt and scabbard harder. It shouldn't matter this much to her. Not like this, at any rate. And yet, it did.
Until the moment Ghent had confirmed the news, Elayra hadn't realized exactly how much she cared where the dagger had come from. Or, perhaps, it was the when. A right of passage of knowing Drust trusted her enough to pass on such a fine, meaningful weapon to her. It felt as if she'd lost some small part of herself.
With a growling huff at her unwanted emotions, she threw the stiletto toward the first-aid box. The force embedded over half its blade into the earth an inch from the box. Right where she'd aimed. At least its balance was decent enough for throwing.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent's face flushed. Elayra had the uncanny ability to make him feel like an idiot. He stared at the sheathed dagger being pointed at him, his expression darkening.
"Fine." The response was bitter, clipped. He didn't want to spend another second in her company. Clutching the lengthily pants at his side, he stalked away from the girl, never looking back.
Ghent's footsteps became slower and more reluctant the closer he got to the woods. He looked around tentatively, staying alert for any indication of danger. He checked behind each tree and shrub as he passed it, his paranoia multiplying now that he was alone. He hated that he felt so vulnerable without Drust and Elayra nearby.
Finding a spot he deemed suitable for changing out of his clothes, Ghent disappeared behind a collection of tightly packed trees. He hung Drust's pants on a low hanging branch and started by removing his hoodie. The fabric was soaked and heavy from water, but Ghent barely noticed. He was too busy mulling over his latest fight with Elayra.
Why did she make such a big deal out of it? Ghent shook his head, still baffled by her reaction. He tossed the hoodie aside, and it landed with a muffled thump.
Grumbling, Ghent grabbed the hem of his faded Batman t-shirt and worked to pull it over his head. His skin felt cold and clammy underneath, an uncomfortable sensation that made him miss the warmth of Drust's cloak. He wrung out the shirt and hung it next to the pants, planning to put it on again before he rejoined with Elayra. He didn't feel quite confident enough to be in her presence half-naked with nothing but ill-fitting trousers.
His eyes trailed down to his torso, and he scowled. An ugly bruise resided where Drust had kicked him during their first of many fights.
"They'll kill me before the stupid queen does..." Ghent mumbled dejectedly. Realizing what he'd said, his hand shot up to his mouth. He hadn't meant to insult their enemy out loud.
Ghent gulped. He looked over his shoulder, double-checking that his comment hadn't summoned a shadowmire – or worse – her.
After a tense pause in which he barely breathed, Ghent exhaled. He peeled off his socks and sneakers, looking around as he did so. He added them to the pile before working on removing his clingy jeans.
Ghent wrung out one pant leg, a few unsatisfying droplets of water dripping from the stubborn material. He tossed them aside and looked down at his boxers, hesitating. Before he had a chance to remove his last article of clothing, a realization dawned upon him.
He could use magic.
Ghent blinked, amazed at his inability to remember a gift so extraordinary. It was the obvious solution to his problem. It could become the solution to most of his problems once he learned more focus words.
"It was Ignis-something…" Ghent folded his arms across his bare chest, thinking back to the campfire in the Safe Zone. He conjured fire once without trouble, he was fairly certain he could do it again. He mumbled a few words similar to the focus word until one sounded right. "…Igniculous." That was it. He'd bet his staff on it.
Stepping over his pile of discarded clothing, Ghent eyed the trees for a branch thick enough to use as a torch. If all went according to his wild, harebrained scheme, his clothes would be dry before Drust got back.</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
It didn't take long for Ghent to find something he deemed suitable to use as a torch. The cluster of trees provided plenty of options for him to choose from, including a thick, twisted branch that resembled the leg of a table he'd seen at the Book Barn.
Bracing one foot against the base of the tree, Ghent jumped up and grabbed onto the branch near its center. He began pulling to the left, but the extra force wasn't necessary. The branch snapped so effortlessly, he fell onto his butt.
Adding a sore tailbone to his list of woes, Ghent shot the decaying tree a dirty look. He examined the width of the branch, analyzing his find with a critical eye. It wasn't perfect, but it would do in a pinch.
Pushing himself to his feet, Ghent prepared to block out his surroundings in order to focus. The magic usually answered his every call, but this was the first time he would use a focus word without Drust or Elayra at his side.
"Whatever. I'm Hatter's son." Ghent bristled suddenly, irritated that he'd become so dependant on the Wonderlanders. He gripped the soon-to-be-torch tighter and let his opposite hand hover near the end of the branch. It was his hope that the flame would catch despite the lack of a fire starter.
Igniculous. Igniculous. Igniculous. Ghent repeated the focus word in his head a few times before attempting to say it out loud. He sensed a shift in the air, it was as if an invisible force was urging him to say the word that hadn't yet left his lips. "Igni…"
Before Ghent's plan could commence, Elaya's voice sounded from around the corner.
Ghent almost screamed. His first instinct was to hide the branch behind his back like a guilty kid. "Uh, yeah!" he called back immediately, afraid that if he didn't respond fast enough, Elayra would take it upon herself to investigate.
"I'm just…" Ghent stalled, searching the clearing for an excuse. "Standing around…in my damp underwear," he cringed as he said it, having no choice but to use Elayra's choice of words from earlier. Hopefully, it was enough to scare her off.
A pause. Ghent could see his heart beating in his chest.
"So. Uh. Go guard our stuff!" Ghent's urgency may have come across as rude, but he really wanted Elayra to leave.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra's suspicion only grew when Ghent answered a little too quickly.
Her brows rose as he continued, his answer less than reassuring.
"[i]Seriously?[i] How long does it take you to change?" She rolled her eyes with a small shake of her head. Her expression turned into a scowl at his last order. "I'm not your personal bandersnatch, Featherhead!"
All the same, she turned from his hiding spot and returned to their backpacks. She shoved the tip of her saber back into the ground with a bit of extra irritation-fueled force.
"If you're going to take all afternoon, I'm changing." She knelt down beside her pack and opened it. She pulled out a plain set of grayish pants that had once been black, and a thin, long-sleeved off-white shirt.
Elayra wrong out her hair as well as she could, then changed out quickly, tossing her wet clothes to the ground. She shivered as the warmth of the dry garments replaced the chill of the river-laden ones. She hadn't realized how cold the water had made her.
She rubbed her hands together for the extra warmth, then secured the sheath of her newly acquired stiletto into her replacement pair of boots. She looked longingly to her discarded shoes, the now useless sheath of her blue-bladed dagger hidden inside.
She snatched the boot from the ground and pulled out the sheath. Anger at the simple loss heated her chest. She posed to throw its small scabbard in the water after the dagger, but she hesitated. With a huff, she instead tossed it into her backpack.
She glanced to the sopping mess of her water-logged clothes, then to her current mostly clean shirt. She sighed heavily. The color wasn't exactly the best for blending in with the woods.
She cast a glance to Ghent's chosen tree, then plunged her arm back into her pack.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"Give me a minute, Blondie! I had to make sure Voldemort wasn't creeping in the bushes!" Ghent responded in a harsh whisper, using his preferred codename for the Queen. He stood rigidly, his breath hissing between his teeth as Elayra made another Wonderland reference. He squinted up at the sky in frustration, but didn't bother asking her for clarification. He suspected a bandersnatch was some type of servant.
As soon as Elaya's footsteps faded in the direction of the lake, Ghent sighed in relief and his posture loosened. He brought the branch out from its hiding spot and looked behind his shoulder as an extra precaution. He had been left to his own devices.
The forest was eerily quiet. Ghent scratched at the side of his jaw with the tip of the branch, ridding himself of an invisible itch. After a long moment, he decided to proceed with his plan.
"Guess I should hang these up…" Ghent mumbled to himself while he collected his jeans and Batman t-shirt from the ground. He started to hang his articles of clothing up one by one, using the same branch that hosted Drust's trousers.
Igniculous… Ghent let the focus word marinate in his brain while he worked. He knew his plan would be put into action the second he said it, and he couldn't afford to mispronounce something so crucial.
After his clothing was hung up, Ghent took a step back. He extended the branch toward the jeans and began to focus on what he wanted, and where he wanted it. His eyes lit up with childlike excitement when he felt the familiar pull in the air surrounding him. The magic was ready, and so was he.
"Igniculous!"
A burst of flame shot forward, catching the end of what was now a torch. Ghent stared at the fire in amazement, the bright orange flames reflecting in his blue eyes. Under different circumstances, he may have been content to stare at his creation until it shrank from existence, but he had an important task to complete.
Droplets of river water dripped from Ghent's clothing. He raised the torch ever so slightly, bringing the fire as close to the denim as he dared. A small, smug smirk tugged at the corner of his chapped lips as the flames licked at the fabric. He couldn't wait to emerge from the trees, dressed in his newly dried clothes. He imagined Elayra's face shifting from anger, to disbelief when she realized his wardrobe was dried to perfection.
Every so often, Ghent moved the branch away from his jeans to check the drying progress. The process was taking longer than he would have liked, but it seemed to be working, and so he continued. It didn't take long for him to grow bored of the repetitiveness.
Ghent began daydreaming. He wanted to think of a witty remark when he tossed Drust's pants back at Elayra, something to further annoy the irritable princess. While he plotted and schemed, he failed to realize that his method of moving the torch every so often had encouraged the flames to travel. . .
After a few minutes, Ghent felt a gradual warmth near his bare shoulder. It wasn't until his skin became hot that he was snapped out of his trance. His eyes slid to find the source of the heat, and he screamed.
The fire had begun to devour the fabric of Drust's pants.
"HOLY--!" Ghent staggered back. His mouth fell open. He sputtered a few times like a fish out of water as his mind screamed at him to do something.
Swearing underneath his breath, Ghent grabbed his wet t-shirt and started beating at the flames with one hand, while gripping the branch with his other. The movement jostled the torch so much, the fire shrank and spread, threatening to burn him and the rest of the forest if he wasn't careful.</s>
|
<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent tilted his head back, stunned that the spell had produced something so akin to the fireworks on Earth. The sight was nostalgic somehow, enough to earn the smallest hint of a smile from him. He turned to see what his companions thought of his work, but his relief was quickly doused by dread. Drust and Elayra were furious.
Ghent gulped. He eyed Elayra like a dog waiting to be scolded. He was certain that she would be the first to address his latest failure, and he was right.
'How stupid are you?' Ghent's mouth twisted into a grimace. His own retort caught in his throat when she pointed her sword at his chest, the tip mere inches from his flesh. "The pants wouldn't..." he wanted to point out that the pants wouldn't have fit him, but Drust's voice cut through the air like a hot knife through butter.
He's losing it. Ghent exhaled. Unwilling to contribute further to Drust's mental decline, he did his part by quickly shutting up. He avoided eye contact as Elayra took the reigns, unsure how to feel about the princess coming to his aid yet again.
Ghent tensed as Drust took a knee. The sight of the man battling his demons was a terrifying thing. It was even more terrifying not knowing if -- or when -- he would lose that battle.
"Should we..." Ghent trailed off, his voice no more than a whisper. Something about this time was worse than times before. Much worse. He looked to Elayra for help, as he had no experience with appeasing the man.
Rather than pose a solution, Elayra motioned for Ghent to return to their belongings. A nagging sense of self-preservation told Ghent to follow the order, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her with the madman.
"Elayra," Ghent whispered again, mindful of his volume. "Drust...he needs his space, you should listen to what he..."
Too late. Elayra's decision to stay backfired.
Ghent recoiled as Drust jumped to his feet. The Knight dropped his sword, but that brought Ghent no comfort. Drust was deadly even without a weapon, and now he had Elayra by the collar.
"Elayra!" Ghent forced himself to run toward them. He was seconds away from intervening, but Drust acted first. The Knight tossed Elayra away from him, as if ridding himself of the temptation to commit murder.
Ghent never broke his stride. The scene had changed, but his mission had not. He hurried over to Elayra, stooped, and grabbed her by her upper arms. Once he pulled the princess to her feet, he released one of her arms, and tugged her along with the other. He shot her a warning look, his expression tight and unusually serious.
"Shut up before yourself killed," he hissed, "okay?"</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Elayra stumbled back. She kept her balance until the heel of her boot hit a clod of earth, and she fell. She pulled her legs toward her to push herself up, but hands gipped her upper arms, helping in tugging her to standing.
Surprise flashed through her at the assist, but irritation quickly replaced it as Ghent adjusted his grip and pulled her toward their packs. She stumbled a couple steps from the sudden change in direction, but swiftly righted herself.
"Shut up before you get yourself killed, okay?"
"I'm not the one who nearly set the forest on fire!" she growled back, her volume matching his, hoping to avoid Drust's notice.
She wrenched her arm from him and quickened her pace. She cast a quick glance back toward the tree, Drust's kneeling form barely visible behind it.
At their packs, she snatched up the one the White Knight had tossed aside. Different colored stains dappled the rugged fabric, some more faded than others. It had an odd, musty smell, but otherwise seemed to be in decent condition.
Opening it, she rummaged through its contents. Though not enchanted, Drust had managed to shove a good amount into it, including a few pilfered changes of clothes, while leaving room to spare.
"I think this is yours." She spun toward Ghent and tossed the pack toward him, not caring if he saw it coming at him, let alone if he caught it or not. "See if anything in there fits. Unless you like parading around in your boxers."</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"No," Ghent agreed through grit teeth, "but you are the one who gave me the longest pants in Wonderland..." he kicked at a stray pebble as he walked, frowning all the while. He missed taking his frustration out on the various cans and bottles left around the city. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not Slenderman!"
Ghent came to a stop after Elayra did. He eyed the pack, wary of its contents.
"Hey. Those didn't come from a dead person, right?" Ghent wrinkled his nose at his own suggestion. The thought of wearing a dead person's clothes felt like a bad omen, and the last thing he wanted was to attract bad luck. Or, worse luck, as he felt his luck had been nothing but bad since stepping foot into Wonderland.
Before Ghent could inquire -- or complain -- further, the pack in question was tossed at him. He didn't expect this, so the brunt of it hit him in the chest while scrambled to catch the lopsided bundle.
Bristling, Ghent steadied himself, irked by the entirety of the exchange. He opened the top of the pack wider, bringing his face down to sniff at its contents. The clothes smelled musty, but his tolerance to bad smells had risen after being subjected to Miles' vehicle. Now that the clothing had passed the sniff test, he reached inside, making a mental note to check for traces of blood.
"Huh?" Ghent lifted his head, Elayra's words almost going unmissed. "What are you..." he stopped. Heat crept over his face. In the chaos, he had forgotten that he was still in his boxers.
"Y'know, on Earth, we value a little thing called privacy," Ghent quickly yanked a pair of trousers out of the bag, his cheeks flushed. He grabbed what he assumed was a shirt next, his misgivings about the clothing now behind him. "So, uh. Turn around, will you?!"</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent squinted at her. He considered teasing her, saying that she must have wanted to watch him change, but she turned before he had the chance to dig his own grave.
After a pause, he returned his attention to his new-old clothes and started to dress.
Selecting the shirt first, Ghent worked his arms through the long sleeves. The fabric was somewhat coarse, thin in some spots, and itchy in others. He found that the neckline was cut in a V shape, which could be pulled closed thanks to two leather cords laced between the fabric. The back of the shirt was plain, save for a hood he hadn't noticed before. The shirt was something he could see Henry wearing at a Renaissance Festival, except that Henry refused to wear anything blue, for some unknown reason.
"Earth bag..." Ghent snorted lightly at Elayra's name for the backpack. His smirk dissolved at the order. He wasn't attached to the backpack itself, but what it represented. It was the last thing he bought before leaving Earth.
Ghent sighed, silently chiding himself. A secondhand backpack was the least of his problems.
Before Ghent could work on his pants, he stiffened, a sharp itch between his shoulder blades demanding his attention. Scratching with one hand, he tugged at the shirt with the other to keep the source of the itch away from his skin, the sensation agitating him. It seemed that even the clothes in Wonderland were against him.
"At least it's warm. And dry," Ghent mumbled to himself. He dropped his hand to his side and scowled. The same couldn't be said for his boxers, but he didn't exactly have anywhere to change out of them. So, they remained.
Quietly fuming at the injustice of it all, Ghent worked both feet through the legs and pulled up the charcoal-colored pants. To his relief, the pants fit around the waist, but they were a little long. Not as long as Drust's pants, though.
Ghent moved over to his backpack and crouched down in front of it. He found that the fabric was less coarse than the shirt, something he was immensely grateful for. He hoped that the length of his shirt would help hide the fact that his underclothes weren't fully dry.
"Giving what more control?" Ghent caught the end of Elayra's statement. He peered over his shoulder at her, brows raised. He couldn't tell if she was talking to him, or to herself, but he didn't have time to question her. Drust was heading their way.
Hurriedly, Ghent emptied the contents of his backpack and shoved everything into the bag as instructed. He gripped the empty backpack as he stood, stiff as a board, like a cadet facing a sergeant. His eyes flickered between the Wonderlanders, a too-familiar feeling of panic settling in. The feeling urged him to say something.
"The..." Ghent blanched. Drust had sheathed his weapon, but he didn't exactly seem calm. His fingers were curled into a fist. "The clothes fit," he stammered, a weak attempt to pacify him -- and the Curse.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Unthinkingly, Elayra glanced toward Ghent when he addressed her discovery. She cringed, ready to look away, but thankfully, he'd dressed. Alas, she didn't have time to answer before Drust neared.
She watched, begrudgingly impressed, at how quickly Ghent dumped the contents of his old pack into the stolen one. She turned her attention to Drust. He stopped about two sword-lengths from the teens. The Knight gave Ghent a quick once-over as the boy stammered over his words.
Drust nodded jerkily—or perhaps it was just a twitch. Elayra wasn't certain. The dark lines snaking from the corners of his eyes spread outward like roots, reaching and pulling back as Drust fought to keep the Curse manageable.
He grunted his approval. He jerked his chin toward the thicker line of trees. "In town, stay close," he began, his voice clipped and strained. "If we're lucky—" He cut himself off with a sneering humorless chuckle at the concept of them being 'lucky.' Gritting his teeth, he pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other at his temple, and took a deep breath.
Elayra rested her hand on her saber's hilt, making the action look as unthreatening as she could. "We don't need luck. We have our skills," she offered.
Drust snorted. "No matter what,"—his neck twitched violently—"Get. To. The. Rabbit Hole. Understood?" He raised his head, his eerie eyes shifting from Ghent to Elayra.
Elayra met his gaze. The black-webbed red of his irises had turned his pupils nearly to pinpricks, the colors at war.
"Understood," she echoed. She nodded slowly, trying to convey that that applied to more than just his order.
He snorted, his lips curling into a sneer. Not waiting for any other answer from either of them, he strode toward the trees.
Not wanting to keep Drust waiting, Elayra deftly attached her quiver to her belt. Abandoning the idea of taking the necessary time to pull out her bow, she closed her pack and shouldered it.
She hurried to Ghent, grabbing his wrist to get his attention. "He's giving the Curse more control," she whispered, at last answering his earlier question. "If it's stronger in him, it's more likely we'll have extra time before the Curse-ridden realize we're Omitten." She glanced uneasily after Drust, then looked back to Ghent. "You need to be careful." She looked away with a quiet huff. "We both do," she admitted.
She released him, and quickened her pace after the White Knight.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent held his breath as he waited for Drust's evaluation. The sight of the Knight's eyes up close sent a sharp, unpleasant shock through his entire being. His throat tightened at the memory of being lifted in the air by him. Drust, he decided, was more terrifying than a shadowmire and terraflame combined.
Drust's chuckle made Ghent's skin crawl. He imagined the Knight might give a similar-sounding laugh if he decided to brandish his sword, finally giving in to the Curse...finally ridding himself of the two teenagers he must have felt entrapped with.
Ghent shivered. He wished his intrusive thoughts and overactive imagination would take a hike.
"Uh...understood," Ghent coughed lightly, his lungs disagreeing with the lack of oxygen. He bit his own tongue as he dropped his chin, too unnerved to maintain eye contact for longer than he already had. His foolishness meant he would have to wonder about the Rabbit Hole in silence, the workings of Wonderland and its means of travel still very foreign to him.
Finally, Drust stalked off. Ghent exhaled, shouldering his new bag as Elayra approached him.
"Huh?" Ghent turned his head toward the princess. His eyes fell to her hand gripping his wrist, and he flushed slightly, still embarrassed after all that had transpired. He met her eyes again and blinked, waiting for her explanation.
"Like...on purpose? Or..." Ghent trailed off, allowing Elayra to supply an answer herself. He bit the inner pocket of his cheek, his expression unusually contemplative. He wondered about their odds, their chances of traveling through the town undetected.
"I'll be careful," Ghent answered, strangely agreeable despite his track record. "I know I messed up back there, but don't worry..." he rubbed at his neck, careful not to disturb the bandaging. "I have no desire to stand out, or mingle with the townsfolk around here...not after what I've seen of this heck hole."
After collecting and checking his belongings -- his bag, his father's book, and his staff -- Ghent hurried after Drust and Elayra, scratching at an occasional itch courtesy of his new shirt.</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent held his breath as he waited for Drust's evaluation. The sight of the Knight's eyes up close sent a sharp, unpleasant shock through his entire being. His throat tightened at the memory of being lifted in the air by him. Drust, he decided, was more terrifying than a shadowmire and terraflame combined.
Drust's chuckle made Ghent's skin crawl. He imagined the Knight might give a similar-sounding laugh if he decided to brandish his sword, finally giving in to the Curse...finally ridding himself of the two teenagers he must have felt entrapped with.
Ghent shivered. He wished his intrusive thoughts and overactive imagination would take a hike.
"Uh...understood," Ghent coughed lightly, his lungs disagreeing with the lack of oxygen. He bit his own tongue as he dropped his chin, too unnerved to maintain eye contact for longer than he already had. His foolishness meant he would have to wonder about the Rabbit Hole in silence, the workings of Wonderland and its means of travel still very foreign to him.
Finally, Drust stalked off. Ghent exhaled, shouldering his new bag as Elayra approached him.
"Huh?" Ghent turned his head toward the princess. His eyes fell to her hand gripping his wrist, and he flushed slightly, still embarrassed after all that had transpired. He met her eyes again and blinked, waiting for her explanation.
"Like...on purpose? Or..." Ghent trailed off, allowing Elayra to supply an answer herself. He bit the inner pocket of his cheek, his expression unusually contemplative. He wondered about their odds, their chances of traveling through the town undetected.
"I'll be careful," Ghent answered, strangely agreeable despite his track record. "I know I messed up back there, but don't worry..." he rubbed at his neck, careful not to disturb the bandaging. "I have no desire to stand out, or mingle with the townsfolk around here...not after what I've seen of this heck hole."
After collecting and checking his belongings -- his bag, his father's book, and his staff -- Ghent hurried after Drust and Elayra, scratching at an occasional itch courtesy of his new shirt.</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
GardaleAround 7:45 p.m.
No matter how many Curse-run cities she visited, she would never get used to the stench. Even on the outskirts, the rotten twang of old meat soured the sweetness of baked goods. Perfumes and flowers mingled with decay, sweat, and sewage.
Elayra crouched behind a low, crumbling stone wall. It had once marked the boundaries of the magic field of the town's defenses. Now, it was just another withering reminder of what once had been.
With no need to hide, Drust stood beside her, scanning the decrepit one- and two-story homes at the edges of town. Other, taller buildings towered behind them in the town's depths.
Bits of the color and architecture hinted that they were once proud things. Now, time had eaten at them, and the denizens had taken to using whatever was laying around to make repairs.
Across the weed-choked lawn, half of a wall of the house in front of Elayra had fallen victim to a said repair. Cracked mirrors and piano keys were mounted into oddly pinkish mortar. Some of the sharp edges of the glass stuck out dangerously like quills. In spots, hardened feathers dripped from its roof in place of shingles.
If not for the whisper of manic laughter carried on the wind, it could almost be mistaken as intentionally artistic, rather than the mindless work of the insane.
A thin alley gaped between the repaired home and its neighbor, waiting to serve as the trio's entrance. Above, the sun had turned the sky into a battle of fiery colors, staining the town.
She grimaced. They were cutting it close.
The Forsaken were one thing—rabid as they were, they were typically fairly predictable. Dare she even think, easily avoidable. But the Forgen…
"We have maybe twenty minutes before the Forgen get extra rabid," she whispered, glancing to Ghent. "Once the workday's over, the Forsaken usually just go home. But the older Forgen are left to their own devices. Remember. If it looks even remotely under fourteen, avoid it. Once we're inside—"
"Keep quiet," Drust snapped without looking to his charges.
Elayra's mouth shut and she reached for her sword. She scanned their surroundings, trying to find the reason behind his command.
"And keep your eyes hidden," he finished.
She scowled, realizing he'd only been finishing her instructions. Biting back her frustration, she nodded. "If you make eye contact and they don't see the Curse in you, they'll attack. And if one of them senses something's off…"
"Hive mind. Any nearby will know." Drust's head twitched down, then to the side. His shoulders spasmed as if his ticks were communicating with each other. A growl rumbled in his throat. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.
Limiting her breaths, she drew her hair around her face like a vail.
"We need the center of town." Drust's hands clenched and unclenched. "It's not far. But far enough."
Drust gave the overgrown lawn a last quick sweep, then stepped easily over the half-wall.
Elayra hesitated the length of a heartbeat. She looked to Ghent, her jaw and shoulders stiff, and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring nod. She vaulted over the stone wall, then paused to check that he followed.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Ghent smelled the town before he saw it. He cursed underneath his breath, covering his nose with his sleeve. It didn't take long for the foul air to kill his appetite, warding off any previous desire he had to raid his pack for food.
They continued onward, the air quality never improving. Ghent used his sleeve to act as a filter until he realized that he was only delaying the inevitable. He dropped his arm to his side, breathing in as little as he could.
Eventually, the trio came to a wall, or what remained of one. Ghent crouched because Elayra did. He peered over the wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the infamous town. His eyes moved from house to house, each structure more haphazard than the last. The buildings were old and falling apart, some barely standing. A few of the houses reminded him of a kindergarteners craft project, with an assortment of different materials cobbled together to create a bizarre illusion of a home.
"Those definitely aren't to code..." Ghent squinted at the feathers. He overheard a crazed laugh, which caused him to drop back behind the wall as if he'd been shot. Neither Drust nor Elayra seemed to react, which was both comforting yet concerning. Crazed laughter must have been normal in Wonderland.
Ghent sighed. Twenty minutes wasn't very long, and he doubted they could run without drawing unwanted attention. He nodded stiffly, hoping against hope that they would avoid crossing paths with any of the town's inhabitants. "Like I said, I have no desire to mingle with--"
Drust suddenly snapped at them to keep quiet. Ghent sat up straighter and gripped his staff tighter, fearing the source of the laugh had spotted them. His scowl mirrored Elayra's when he realized Drust was only finishing her sentence.
"No mingling, no kids, no eye contact..." Ghent grunted as he pushed himself up, his muscles stiff and sore. He watched as Elayra vaulted herself over the wall with the proficiency of a gymnast, something he intended to mimic. "No problem."
Clutching his staff, Ghent dashed forward and used his free hand to hoist himself up. His first leg went over without a hitch, but he didn't lift his second leg high enough. His knee smacked against the edge awkwardly, causing him to stumble when he landed. He caught himself, flushing when he saw Elayra looking in his direction.
Pride barely intact, Ghent stalked past her, hurrying to catch up with Drust.</s>
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<|description|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Age: 17
Heritage: The son of Hatter Madrail. Ghent's mother was murdered a few years after he was born.
Adoptive parents: Frederick and Elise Preston. Elise was the first to find Hatter's son; she was astonished to discover him in the woods near their home, disoriented and impossibly lost.
Appearance: Thick, medium length black hair. The style is unpredictable, but the layers sometimes give it an unruly appearance. His bangs fall in front of his eyes, which are blue in color and have a sharp, piercing quality to them. The rest of his features are dark and seem to contrast against his paler-than-should-be skin. He has a lithe build and currently stands at 5'9", but has about a year left to grow.
Distinguishing Marks: A few light freckles running across the bridge of his nose. A more noticeable one is underneath his left eye. He has a small scar underneath his jaw.
Clothes Wear: Whatever's comfortable. He usually wears hoodies, jeans, worn out sneakers, and three quarter/graphic t-shirts.
Abilities: Strength and magic, both inherited from his race. As far as magic goes, Ghent was completely unaware of the ability until Drust and Elayra came to earth. Understandably, he is inexperienced but has the potential to become better with practice.
Weapons: A staff, given to him on page 13.
Personality: It's no secret that Ghent can be a pain. He isn't malicious, but he enjoys pushing the buttons of others in order to get a reaction out of them. His sarcasm usually lands him in trouble, but his past experiences haven't been enough for him to keep his mouth shut. Despite his immaturity, he has a good heart. Ghent has lazy tendencies, but can be hard working with proper motivation.
Major Positive Traits: Compassionate. Empathetic. Hardworking (sometimes).
Major Negative Traits: Sarcastic. Cocky. Klutz. Impulsive. Awkward.
Weaknesses: At times, Ghent doubts himself and his abilities. The fear of failure usually prevents him from achieving success. Having lived in two worlds, he struggles with deciding where he belongs and where his loyalties lie.
Ticks and Tags: Ticks: Fidgets a lot, often with the drawstrings of his hoodies. When he's faced with a situation he can't wrap his mind around, he will pace and/or mumble to himself until he can make sense of what's happening. Tags: "Cut me some slack!" "Great." "Wait, what?"
Fears: Ghosts. Failure. Being unable to return home. Wonderland in general.
Short Bio: Ghent's story could have been a tragic one, had he not been found. He was discovered in a forest as a toddler, and later adopted by the very family that took him in.
For much of his childhood, Ghent lived in the comforts of a small farmhouse in the country. Life was serene, quiet, and good. He grew up happy and healthy, with a mother who doted on him and a dedicated, hardworking father.
Things changed when they moved. Seeking better employment, Mr. Preston uprooted his family to the city, which is where they remained for the years that followed.
The city posed many differences and challenges, but Ghent learned to adapt and knew his way around. Unfortunately, street smarts didn't help much in school.
As Ghent grew older, the nightmares and flashbacks became more frequent. Different events or images would trigger a memory, many of which involved Elayra and Drust. The memories confused and frightened Ghent. He never forgot Wonderland, but he learned to stop talking about it after his parents sought him professional help. It was something his mother made the mistake of telling her longtime friend, Mrs. Saxon.
News spread and rumors started. High school proved to be Ghent's biggest obstacle. He became an easy target for jokes and ridicule, and his grades began to suffer for it.
Motivated by money and the desire to help his family financially, he began to take on odd jobs. His fifth job turned out to be his favorite: a part-time shift at Frank's Book Barn.
Even there, Ghent wasn't free from Wonderland. Flashbacks would hit him at the most inconvenient times…and they didn't cease until became reunited with two important faces from his past.
Other Important Characters
Name: Henry
Age: 14
Appearance: Henry is thin, wiry, with no muscle tone whatsoever. He makes an effort to look neat, but his untamed shock of ginger hair betrays him by looking a mess and his freckles are out of control. When reading, he wears thick black glasses over his large, brown eyes that give him an owlish appearance.
Clothes wear: Henry wears an odd mix of clothing. Most of his clothes are hand-me-downs from previous cousins, including Ghent. When his options are limited, he can be found wearing faded graphic t-shirts (he favors Disney ones) and jeans that have been rolled up at the cuffs in order to fit.
Personality: Despite a rocky home life, Henry remains optimistic, but he has a sensitive side that results in him crying at the drop of a hat. Although he has a sweet, childlike innocence about him, he isn't foolish. He's remarkably intelligent and has a great love for reading and learning. Because of his OCD, Henry is always cleaning and organizing, and likes to keep busy in order to make himself useful. His desire for perfect order can be a little overwhelming at times, but he means no ill intent and has great respect for his family and friends.
Bio: Henry is an only child who never longed for the company of a sibling. Growing up in the country, he had plenty of family and cousins to spend his time with. The families all lived quite close in the rural area, including the Preston family.
Even as a toddler, Henry was fascinated by Ghent and seemed to gravitate towards him, viewing him as an older brother figure. To the delight of their parents, the three year age gap and a difference in personality didn't prevent the two boys from getting along.
After the Preston family moved to the city, Henry was heartbroken. The families kept in touch when possible, making multiple visits during the holidays. The visits lessened over the years, but Henry took it upon himself to keep in touch through any means possible. To Elise's delight (and to Frederick and Ghent's dismay) Henry has been known to leave long rambling phone messages, sends more texts than a teenage girl, and writes letters so long, they need to be mailed in multiple envelopes.
Henry is the only one Ghent continued to trust with his few memories of Wonderland. Their efforts to uncover the mystery were admirable, but brought nothing but disappointment and wild theories. Eventually, a disgruntled Ghent gave up, but Henry continued to search for the truth behind his cousin's past.</s>
<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
Before he could so much as spit the taste from his mouth, Ghent felt a hand close around his hood. In his dazed state, he foolishly believed that Drust was on a mission to remove him from the nightmare that was the town.
Any such hope was soon snuffed out.
Ghent gasped as his body connected with the alley wall. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was silenced. He swallowed hard, his salvia tasting foul to him. The darkness in Drust's eyes spoke volumes. The Knight was angry enough to murder him, Ghent was sure of it.
A second slam. This time, with enough force for Ghent to shout out, the sound muffled due to Drust's palm. Had Ghent been given a chance, this was where he would have blurted out a frantic, nonsensical apology, if only to save his own skin.
Groveling wasn't necessary, however. Elayra saw to that.
Cheeks wet with tears, Ghent's eyes flickered from Drust to Elayra. He couldn't decide if her interference was courageous or foolish, but he was thankful for it. He took in a gulp of foul-tasting air as soon as he was released, his legs buckling beneath him.
I can't do this. Ghent dropped to his knees. He was better level with the corpse near the center of the alleyway, scattered remains of someone who had lived and breathed just as he did. He shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the hellish world around him.
Do something, you idiot! Ghent's inner voice screamed at him. Elayra was going toe-to-toe with Drust, but she couldn't hold him off forever. If the Knight decided to, he could add both of their corpses to the nearby pile.
Ghent inhaled and exhaled in small, ragged pants. His head snapped up when he heard Elayra fall, something Drust was quick to take advantage of. The Knight pressed his boot against her back, pinning her to the ground as he had with Ghent and the wall.
Fear merged with rage. Still trembling, Ghent rose, a dangerous look in his eye. Elayra had said that magic could kill the Knight.
Before further action could be taken, the tables were reversed. Ghent flinched in surprise as Drust pitched backward, thrown off balance thanks to Elayra's quick thinking.
It was the chance Ghent needed. The chance they needed.
Without hesitating, Ghent bolted past Drust to reach Elayra's side. "We're leaving," he hissed, his eyes wild with desperation. He grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her to follow him. "NOW."</s>
<|message|>Elayra (ee-LAY-ruh) Alane Heart
Snarling, Drust reached out to catch himself on the wall as he stumbled. Finding no purchase, he thumped down near the remnants of the stray corpse.
Elayra's gaze barely flicked to Ghent as the other teen moved to her side, her attention locked on Drust. She pushed from the wall as the Knight swiftly turned to get back to his feet. She angled herself between him and Ghent.
"Don't lose to it, Dru—!" she started, ignoring Ghent's first order. But, instead of using her as a shield as she'd expected, Ghent grabbed her arm, his last demand echoing in the alleyway as he tugged at her.
She lurched after him, momentarily too surprised to resist. Heat radiated in her chest. Anger fully drowned out her fear, a new kind of disgust filling the space of her revulsion of the town. It was his mess she was cleaning up.
She clenched her teeth, got her footing, and yanked her arm from him. "Then leave!"
She moved to shove Ghent's back, but a familiar hand clamped around her mouth from behind and pulled her away. With his other, Drust snatched at Ghent's hood again to wrench the teen back and silence him as he'd done with Elayra.
Elayra stumbled back into Drust, trapped against his chest. Trying to not inhale the now foul odor clinging to his glove, she reached for the hand to pry it off and slip out beneath his hold.
"Quiet!" he snapped, the word a gravely hush near her ear. A glance at Drust's face—closer to her in his half-crouch—stilled her.
Drust's pupils fought for more real estate in the black-veined red of his irises. But, more importantly, he wasn't focused on his charges. Instead, he stared, hard, at the alley's opening.
She stiffened and eyes widened as she heard what the Knight had caught well before her: conversing voices.
Or, rather, a poor simulation of a conversation. First two voices, then three, then four. They echoed around the trio, their exact direction impossible for Elayra to pinpoint. Each of them was not quite right for a human voice, yet still undeniably human. Their 'words' jerked about in snippets, general sounds shoved together into a near incomprehensible mush.
The broken language of broken minds.
They had drawn the attention of the Cursed.</s>
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<|message|>Ghent ("GEHENT") Vincent Madrail
"Are you INSANE?!" Ghent spun to face Elayra, angered and dismayed by her resistance. He didn't have time to argue with her, yet here they were, butting heads for the umpteenth time. "You can't stay here, especially not with…" he recoiled, gasping. Like something out of a horror movie, Drust appeared behind Elayra.
An annoyingly familiar yank on his hood caused Ghent to topple backward. He landed opposite Elayra, groaning. They had one chance to escape, and that chance had been ripped away the second the Knight regained his footing.
Muzzled once more, a new wave of terror crashed over Ghent. Due to Drust's hand, he couldn't summon a focus word if he wanted to. He found himself tensing in anticipation, his body still sore from being slammed against the wall.
Contrary to what was expected, Drust didn't lash out physically...but not because of self-restraint.
Trembling like a victim of frostbite, Ghent followed Drust's gaze. A series of garbled voices flooded the alleyway, the source yet to be seen. It was difficult to determine how many voices there were, or where they were coming from, but there was definitely more than one speaker, which meant there was more than one set of eyes to avoid.
Keep your eyes hidden. Drust's warning from before sounded in Ghent's mind. Diverting his attention downward, he tugged on his hood to help conceal his eyes, hoping against hope that they would somehow go undetected.</s>
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<|description|>Actus Algoran
Artificer King of the Wise Iron Tribe
---
---
Age:
48
Appearance
Old and learned, Actus Algoran has weathered many a rough seasons, aged brown hair starting to turn white and the light in once hazel eyes fading into an amber bronze. His stature is respectable but a hunch is visible from years of leaning over tables and workbenches. His king's regalia is a steel breastplate decorated with trinkets and pipes leading in and out as well as many a pockets and pouches contains writing utensils, note pads and spare parts.
Personality
Actus was never one for the arts of war but, embodying his tribe's tradition and culture, is a scholar of the old world arts of knowledge. A tenacious elder, Actus is known to be stubborn and blunt but is well respected for his technical knowledge and learned ways knowing how to read beyond simple english and able to memorize entire books and technical manuals; an undisputed brilliant mind capable of running both numbers and sonnets.
Fourth to the Algoran legacy, Actus is a pragmatic and wily old man able to out fox and out think his opponents which may be a cause for his increased power over tribal affairs believing more in hard work and logic over luck and fortune. Actus endorses slavery not out of cruelty or sadism, but out of pragmatism seeing slaves as cheap labor for menial tasks like digging and manual muscle, anything else thats not unskilled is left to the skilled hands of his people.
Faction
Wise Iron Tribe (Legion-Aligned)
S.P.E.C.I.A.L.
* Strength: 3
* Perception: 7
* Endurance: 9
* Charisma: 8
* Intelligence: 10
* Agility: 4
* Luck: 2
Backstory
Born of the royal blood of Algoran, Actus spent his early life surrounded by tutors and his elders who taught him how not only to read, but to think. His studies would range from how to survive on the land to how to decipher old world text to how to write the letters of the old languages. The first encounter that Algoran would have with the Legion is during his time as a child when his father ruled. A host of drilled and disciplined legionaries and wise, charismatic diplomats came as part of a regular meeting with the Artificer King as Actus's father, Pythagor, had allied the tribe with the Legion after being impressed with their society. Perhaps in a move to secure good future relations, one of the diplomats gave the young heir his own weapon, a .45 auto pistol to which Actus keeps to this day.
Actus would assume control in his late teens when his father was assassinated by an NCR ranger. The new Artificer King lead a hunt for 4 days and 4 nights and captured the ranger by outwitting the sniper before torturing him and making a show out of them back at the Wise Iron fortress for all to see, increasing Legion support both within the people and within himself.
His rule has been seen with increased support with the Legion, becoming a major supplier for them in terms of both military of administrative roles. Shipments of fabricated grenade rifles, explosives and blades are accompanied by artillery and fortification specialists whose work can often be seen either building walls or destroying them. Being one of the most educated tribes, man have also found work in the Legion as clerks and book keepers who help Caeser in keeping his realm afloat as well as constructing new buildings in his territory.
Artificer King Actus is married to the Craft Queen Matri and has four children: Lord Rashio the heir, Lady Cartesia the scholarly maiden, Lord Heorem the tribe champion and Lady Parab the youngest of them all.
Weapon of Choice
* .45 Auto Pistol
* Tomahawk (Used as Melee)
* Flare Gun
Perks
* Educated
* Jury Rigging
* Voracious Reader
Tagged Skills
* Sciece
* Repair
* Survival</s>
<|message|>Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Nipton
Nipton had not been subjected to mass murder in this alternate universe; although Vulpes Inculta would certainly prefer it if the town of thieves and whores had been subjected to his planned 'lottery'. Instead, he had to be content with the mayor being burnt alive, the Powder Gangers being decapitated, and the NCR soldiers peacefully strangled when it turned out they knew nothing of importance, before being dumped into a mass grave. Now, servants of the Artificer King Actus, client of the New Legion, had been sent to the town to turn it into a deathrap for the inevitable NCR counterattack, preparing state-of-the-art defenses, including land mines, bear traps, and spiked pits, with the town's populace watching on as they were turned into human shields.
When those profilgates came, the New Legion would be ready...
Jeffery Wagner - Camp McCarran
Jeffery Wagner would receive orders from the higher-ups through a coded letter, who, to other eyes, would read like a set of average poetry - not too bad, not too good - but to someone who possessed the Cabal's codes, would tell a rather...different message.
Nipton has been occupied by the Legion, who seek to set a trap for a presumed NCR counterattack. Disappoint them; there are any number of expendable assets. And by that, he was to hire or trick mercenaries, gangs that would otherwise be the enemy of the NCR, or even some of Mr. House's more ambitious goons to attack Nipton and get themselves killed. This would also keep the NCR and the Cabal's name out of it, a bonus.
Paradise 'Par' Rapids
Paradise 'Par' Rapids was looking for a thief. Not because anything of his' was stolen or because he felt the need to punish someone for something, but because he needed a thief's services. Why? Because he'd been chasing rumors of his company, the Crimson Caravan, doing unsavory stuff that might get the head brought down by the NCR higher-ups should word get back to them. Said rumors, if true, might bring him up the ranks again, which in turn, would help him steer the Crimsons down the 'right' path once more.
So, he had used his contacts among the Kings to search for someone who might help him, someone who knew how to be discreet, not excessively bloody, and finally, knew the meaning of consistency; not loyalty, but consistency.
And so he would wait, wait for anyone who wanted to take up his offer...
The Muted Man - Vegas Strip
With the various Couriers sent to get the Platinum Chip dead, the Muted Man, Mr. House's most capable servant in this alternate universe, now had a new job; find out what became of the chip, and get it back, by any means possible. His contacts at Goodsprings would already be hearing reports that a person matching Benny's description had been seen at the scene, with more confirmation to be had at Primm, where one of his agents had destroyed a nest of those damn Powder Gangers and acquired information from Deputy Beagle - wait, just Beagle now that Primm Slimm had become sheriff.
Should he move now, or should he wait for more evidence? On the one hand, every moment the Platinum Chip was lost meant a continued NCR presence. On the other hand, the evidence was hazy, still hazy...
Elsewhere in the Wasteland
There is a spike in the number of Feral Ghouls, and various figures have offered a reward for their heads, or in one case, a 'live sample'.
Joshua Graham, who in this universe, had remained the Malpais Legate, was offering good caps and purified water for each Ghoul head, as well as the good graces of the Legion. Surprsingly even for this relatively less sexist alternate Legion, female adventurers were offered the job as well.
NCR Commander Boone, whose wife and child were still alive in this universe, had issued a similar offer, basically Ghoul heads for caps, purified water, and of course, a favor from the NCR in the future.
And finally, Jason Bright of the Bright Brotherhood had sent a message to the effect that those who captured a live ghoul for him would receive...his or her weight in Energy Cells! This would be useful for those who used Energy Weapons and them alone, though...
@Hopeless@ClocktowerEchos@Wernher@chiru@thegreenleafe@APRoll201984@Vulkan</s>
<|message|>James Conrad
New Vegas
In a large, underground chamber underneath the Lucky 38, a secret army was doine exercises. Power Armored troops and mechnical drones, as well as a few machines of war. A man in purple-colored Enclave Hellfire Armor was watching the proceedings, revelling in the apperance of strength this gave him. But, despite his pride, he, Alan Anderson of the Enclave, knew he was not ready - they were not ready.
So he would wait, wait for the coming of his 'friend', James Conrad, soon to be proclaimed the next President of the Enclave. Hopefully the man would bring news of the outside...and what opportunities are present.
The sound of gun shots could be heard below from the men training as James walked slowly up to alan with the report in his hand. "Alan, sir. Here is a report of the recent occurences in the wasteland." James handed them to his commander dressed in his enclave officer uniform at least for now, soon he would take on the apperal fit for a president.
Alan smiled.
"It seems the Legion had taken Nipton, plan to lure the NCR into attacking to preserve the crossings between Primm and the Mojave Outpost, and then leave. However, the NCR haven't seem to have taken the bait yet. Also, Feral Ghouls are multiplying." He wrinkled his face in disgust.
"Perhaps our men can help thin out the ranks of those ugly people...undercover, of course."
"The caps would be useful, but I fear we may draw to much attention, if our men who are trained for perfection begin to take down the ghouls left,right and center. Though I heard there is a group giving out Energy Cells. Perhaps send a group to capture a live one and then collect all of the energy cells and killing those that would dare help ghouls." James gave a sly smile as he looked out towards the troops who were no more then maybe a hundred strong.
A smile from Alan.
"This is heresy, but an Intelligent Ghoul is useful as a tool, one to eventually be broken, true, but a tool nonetheless. That said, though, yes, an undercover agent to find out what this 'Bright Brotherhood' is all about, and exterminate them if they prove too much of a threat...I approve of that, and will begin sending a team of operatives." A thought then came to him:
"The Muted Man...he said he's heading for Legion territory. Do you think Mr. House still seeks that Platinum Chip?"
James nodded slowly before turning to Alan "who's to say he doesn't already have it? From what I've seen of the strip those so called chairman at the tops seem unsure almost as though something's happened. Besides why would the legion have the chip more then likely that there's something of Mr.House in that territory. Don't you think?"
"Indeed," Alan caught on. "I've been looking at old maps; there's something underneath Caesar's Fortification Hill. Something of high technology..."
James nodded "Then that sounds like the reasonable place to go though I'm sure it will be dangerous and even if this man is as skilled as they say the Legion is very fanatical. Perhaps you should bring it up when you speak to Mr.House next."
"Oh, I will," said Alan, "Robert has been very...accomodating of our needs."
"He has, though I can't help but feel like we're trapped like rats down here. Only a few are allowed to leave and no one sees him but yourself. Frankly I don't know why he doesn't just let us claim the strip for him it'd make things easier or at the very least knowing his plans and why he's been so accomdating would be nice."
"Manpower is as much a part of the equation as technology," Alan responded. "Plus, and this is what our host permits me to reveal, his physical condition, even supported by technology, is still...weathered. Surviving 200 years has not been kind to him. This is just my own speculation, but the Platinum Chip seems to be part of a plan to lengthen our host's lifespan, and if so, I sympathize with such a quest." There was a hint of patronization in his voice, but not directed towards James; rather, it was directed at the host himself, Mr. House.
James nodded "Very well sir. Though I should hope to meet him soon, but nevertheless I must be off sir, should you need anything do call." James gave a salute and began to walk away</s>
|
<|message|>Actus Algoran
"Do you doubt the abilities of my tribe Vulpes Inculta?" The Artificer King Actus eyed the man who had come to check on his progress, standing up from his seat in the town hall with a raised eyebrow, "We are Caesar's engineers for good reason."
"I do not but I am simply stating that it would have been far more efficient and easier to raze this depraved den of whores and bandits." Inculta's voice was just as cold and lifeless as ever, monotonous enough to be unsettling even to those who had become regular targets of his visits as hidden eyes stared down the Artificer King.
"Perhaps but now we have the NCR were we want them. Should they come they will have to assail our defenses and these new prisoners will surely be killed off in the crossfire. On the flip side, should they fail to come, it will be a sign that the Republic does not have the power or courage or perhaps even kindness to even attempt to defend the people here." Visibly proud, Actus boasted of his plan with outstanding confidence, "At any rate, we will force a battle here and take home some new slaves and resources; Caesar's orders after all. Even if we cannot obtain a military victory here a political victory shall be born."
With little else to remark, Vulpes Inculta was escorted out by Actus to the entrance of the town hall now being used as a command center. A group of legionary escorts came to the Vulpes's side and with a "Hail Caesar!" the man began his way out of the city as it was being turned into a death trap, careful not to disturb andy pitfalls or landmines on their journey. King Actus on the other hand turned to face the front where trenches were being dug. Slaves towed in rocks and the trailers they once lived in to be used as bunkers. Out in the open was open bait, a cage consisting of captured persons who could not escape but it was more than just them in the middle of a minefield and pitfall traps, several of the slaves were squatting on pressure mines that would explode if they moved ensuring that if the NRC tried to move them, they'd all die.
Even should the defense fail, Actus had already made contingencies and had his son Heorem set up fall back points if not against his will. All that remained was constructing excuses for Caesar should he be questioned for it. With so many degenerate meatsheilds however, Actus had full confidence that even if the NRC sent its entire army at his defenses, he would still grant the Legion victory in the hearts and minds of the people of the Mojave.</s>
|
<|description|>Darlen Hammond
Male - 18 years old - Loyal to Nipton
Jury Rigging (Repair 90) Repair any item using roughly similar item
Light Step (PE 6, AG 6) Floor mines and traps won't be set off
Strong Back (Str 5, End 5) Carry weight +50
SPECIAL
STR 8
PE 6
ED 5
CH 5
INT 5
AGI 6
LU 10
Focus Skills: Repair, Survival, Guns
Personality - Darlen is perpetually inquisitive. He never stop searching for more knowledge: and when he was sent to the Big Empty, he became a fish in the ocean. He swam from facility to facility, taking in as much as he could while somehow ducking danger. It was as though the boy had a guardian angel, or he would have been impaled and dissected by a Cazador long ago. Instead he thrived there, and arrived back at the Mojave well learned, well geared and well fed. His plan once he arrived back with his parents was to make Nipton the most technologically advanced city in the mojave: for although the Big Empty had illustrated to him the perils of technology, the glory of the SCIENCE had overshadowed some of the lessons there.
Darlen was scavenging the rust and rubble by the decimated drive-in near his home town the night that the Legion made their move on Nipton. There he found something no one could have expected: at the Mojave Drive-In, he was the one to make contact with the downed satellite. By the power of SCIENCE it took him to the Big Empty, where he was almost gutted by the ghoul-like inhabitants. He managed to seal himself in a room with a dog-like gun, which took a liking to him. It was with the aid of this companion that he survived for two years at Big Mountain, scraping enough information together to reverse the teleportation and arrive at the Mohave again in one piece. He miraculously went entirely unnoticed by the Think Tank during his stay.
Once Darlen returned he found both his town had been subjugated by the legion, and his parents crucified: all that remained of his childhood memories were bones and ash. His experience in the Big Empty was now what defined him entirely: so now, questions loomed over him. What was his connection to the Mojave anymore? Was there anyone here worth saving? Or should he return home, to the Big Empty, which was now less alien to him than this vast desert land?
Possesses the fully functioning Hazmat Suit and Darklight Cowl, and a K9000 gun,
which he has named "Tchaikovsky". Tchaikovsky has been modified with mentat chow,
resulting in an extremely rapid fire weapon and a more intelligent and loyal dog
mind within. It will perceive threats or deceit in its environment beyond that of
what its owner can (equivalent to an alert character of 9 PERC.) It also possesses
a dogs ability to track by scent, and Darlen has taught it to recognize the unique
scent of ammo and caps (and of course, food.) Occasionally the gun has been known to
wake Darlen to alert him of danger, or to fire of its own discretion.
Sorry for the odd formatting.</s>
<|message|>James Conrad
New Vegas
In a large, underground chamber underneath the Lucky 38, a secret army was doine exercises. Power Armored troops and mechnical drones, as well as a few machines of war. A man in purple-colored Enclave Hellfire Armor was watching the proceedings, revelling in the apperance of strength this gave him. But, despite his pride, he, Alan Anderson of the Enclave, knew he was not ready - they were not ready.
So he would wait, wait for the coming of his 'friend', James Conrad, soon to be proclaimed the next President of the Enclave. Hopefully the man would bring news of the outside...and what opportunities are present.
The sound of gun shots could be heard below from the men training as James walked slowly up to alan with the report in his hand. "Alan, sir. Here is a report of the recent occurences in the wasteland." James handed them to his commander dressed in his enclave officer uniform at least for now, soon he would take on the apperal fit for a president.
Alan smiled.
"It seems the Legion had taken Nipton, plan to lure the NCR into attacking to preserve the crossings between Primm and the Mojave Outpost, and then leave. However, the NCR haven't seem to have taken the bait yet. Also, Feral Ghouls are multiplying." He wrinkled his face in disgust.
"Perhaps our men can help thin out the ranks of those ugly people...undercover, of course."
"The caps would be useful, but I fear we may draw to much attention, if our men who are trained for perfection begin to take down the ghouls left,right and center. Though I heard there is a group giving out Energy Cells. Perhaps send a group to capture a live one and then collect all of the energy cells and killing those that would dare help ghouls." James gave a sly smile as he looked out towards the troops who were no more then maybe a hundred strong.
A smile from Alan.
"This is heresy, but an Intelligent Ghoul is useful as a tool, one to eventually be broken, true, but a tool nonetheless. That said, though, yes, an undercover agent to find out what this 'Bright Brotherhood' is all about, and exterminate them if they prove too much of a threat...I approve of that, and will begin sending a team of operatives." A thought then came to him:
"The Muted Man...he said he's heading for Legion territory. Do you think Mr. House still seeks that Platinum Chip?"
James nodded slowly before turning to Alan "who's to say he doesn't already have it? From what I've seen of the strip those so called chairman at the tops seem unsure almost as though something's happened. Besides why would the legion have the chip more then likely that there's something of Mr.House in that territory. Don't you think?"
"Indeed," Alan caught on. "I've been looking at old maps; there's something underneath Caesar's Fortification Hill. Something of high technology..."
James nodded "Then that sounds like the reasonable place to go though I'm sure it will be dangerous and even if this man is as skilled as they say the Legion is very fanatical. Perhaps you should bring it up when you speak to Mr.House next."
"Oh, I will," said Alan, "Robert has been very...accomodating of our needs."
"He has, though I can't help but feel like we're trapped like rats down here. Only a few are allowed to leave and no one sees him but yourself. Frankly I don't know why he doesn't just let us claim the strip for him it'd make things easier or at the very least knowing his plans and why he's been so accomdating would be nice."
"Manpower is as much a part of the equation as technology," Alan responded. "Plus, and this is what our host permits me to reveal, his physical condition, even supported by technology, is still...weathered. Surviving 200 years has not been kind to him. This is just my own speculation, but the Platinum Chip seems to be part of a plan to lengthen our host's lifespan, and if so, I sympathize with such a quest." There was a hint of patronization in his voice, but not directed towards James; rather, it was directed at the host himself, Mr. House.
James nodded "Very well sir. Though I should hope to meet him soon, but nevertheless I must be off sir, should you need anything do call." James gave a salute and began to walk away</s>
<|message|>Actus Algoran
"Do you doubt the abilities of my tribe Vulpes Inculta?" The Artificer King Actus eyed the man who had come to check on his progress, standing up from his seat in the town hall with a raised eyebrow, "We are Caesar's engineers for good reason."
"I do not but I am simply stating that it would have been far more efficient and easier to raze this depraved den of whores and bandits." Inculta's voice was just as cold and lifeless as ever, monotonous enough to be unsettling even to those who had become regular targets of his visits as hidden eyes stared down the Artificer King.
"Perhaps but now we have the NCR were we want them. Should they come they will have to assail our defenses and these new prisoners will surely be killed off in the crossfire. On the flip side, should they fail to come, it will be a sign that the Republic does not have the power or courage or perhaps even kindness to even attempt to defend the people here." Visibly proud, Actus boasted of his plan with outstanding confidence, "At any rate, we will force a battle here and take home some new slaves and resources; Caesar's orders after all. Even if we cannot obtain a military victory here a political victory shall be born."
With little else to remark, Vulpes Inculta was escorted out by Actus to the entrance of the town hall now being used as a command center. A group of legionary escorts came to the Vulpes's side and with a "Hail Caesar!" the man began his way out of the city as it was being turned into a death trap, careful not to disturb andy pitfalls or landmines on their journey. King Actus on the other hand turned to face the front where trenches were being dug. Slaves towed in rocks and the trailers they once lived in to be used as bunkers. Out in the open was open bait, a cage consisting of captured persons who could not escape but it was more than just them in the middle of a minefield and pitfall traps, several of the slaves were squatting on pressure mines that would explode if they moved ensuring that if the NRC tried to move them, they'd all die.
Even should the defense fail, Actus had already made contingencies and had his son Heorem set up fall back points if not against his will. All that remained was constructing excuses for Caesar should he be questioned for it. With so many degenerate meatsheilds however, Actus had full confidence that even if the NRC sent its entire army at his defenses, he would still grant the Legion victory in the hearts and minds of the people of the Mojave.</s>
|
<|message|>Darlen Hammond
Darlen had peered down the sights of Tchaikovsky at his hometown and been mortified. He saw schoolmates and neighbors looking on in terror from cages as the Legion dug many peril-filled holes in the ground. He might be able to save a few of those he knew, despite being alone… Darlen had a lot of experience with danger filled spots. There was one alive he had intention to save, most of all… his kid sister Cloey was there amongst the crowd of Nipton locals, crying and clinging to their neighbor, her face pressed into a skirt. He had recognized her by her dress and hair through the scope of his gun. All of this added up to one enormous problem… Now what could be his solution?
"I can't believe this is happening to us… No one should have stayed in Nipton after Joey and Samuel were abducted near Cottonwood Cove. It was insane to think we were anywhere near safe…"
Tchaikovsky growled in a low tone, and his "ears" moved to the right. Someone's there… thought Darlen, taking his eyes off the proceedings in Nipton and onto the ridges close to his vantage point. He spotted two figures moving in his direction, weaving in between the tall cacti. Have they spotted me? No, just scouting… But now they have me pinned. If I move, they could turn and spoil my location. I'll have to take my shots then leave. I'll run for that old man's ranch… Darlen took aim for the lower bodies of the Legion sentries. He made his mark with a rapid stream of bullets, tearing through the body of one man and easily sliding his aim onto the next target and shredding his abdomen as well. They both dropped, gasping and bloody, and Darlen had turned and begun his run to the Ranch as soon as he had heard no cry come from them. As the scout wheezed softly, the last he saw was a dark figure with a shock of blonde hair disappearing over a nearby ridge. It was too late for him to warn his brothers of the incredible danger encroaching on their defenses.
Darlen found Wolfhorn Ranch entirely deserted. The old man he and his family had used to buy meat from was gone, without a trace left behind. Ulysses, Darlen remembered his name was… The man had always seemed to have seen so much, more than most of the wasteland residents. He had once picked up Darlen when he was young and told the boy he saw "great potential" in those eyes. Darlen couldn't say why he thought this of a Bighorn rancher, but the man knew what he was talking about when he spoke of capability. He picked up a flyer off of a counter, next to a large chopper-style knife. It was for the services of a "Forecaster" at the 188 Trading Post. He had heard of him before… The forecaster had predicted the death of one of his schoolmates. He had heard the other students talking about how Jon's parents, the boy who was soon to die, had asked the forecaster about their young son: the result was a vision of the boy being consumed by a large lizard. Later, Jon ended up being too close to a gecko nest while practicing shooting.
It seemed to Darlen that the 188 Trading Post could hold the answers he needed about his place in the wasteland, perhaps even a way to liberate those he needed to from Nipton. With the current number of Legion troops there, rescuing his sister Cloey seemed unrealistic. But he knew what the Legion would do with the children of those they captured. With his parents out of the way, Cloey would be conscripted, and taken to one of the Legion camps to be trained to one day become one of their servants or wives. What he needed to know most of all was when they would try to move her and the other young prisoners… And that meant he didn't have time for fortune telling just yet. He had to keep an eye on the movements of Legion troops as best he could… And he was glad that he had the means to do so. He tossed a ragged jacket over his Hazmat Suit and donned the Darklight Cowl. He was ready to swoop into the storm that would come, and do whatever it took to bring Cloey out of it.</s>
|
<|description|>Darlen Hammond
Male - 18 years old - Loyal to Nipton
Jury Rigging (Repair 90) Repair any item using roughly similar item
Light Step (PE 6, AG 6) Floor mines and traps won't be set off
Strong Back (Str 5, End 5) Carry weight +50
SPECIAL
STR 8
PE 6
ED 5
CH 5
INT 5
AGI 6
LU 10
Focus Skills: Repair, Survival, Guns
Personality - Darlen is perpetually inquisitive. He never stop searching for more knowledge: and when he was sent to the Big Empty, he became a fish in the ocean. He swam from facility to facility, taking in as much as he could while somehow ducking danger. It was as though the boy had a guardian angel, or he would have been impaled and dissected by a Cazador long ago. Instead he thrived there, and arrived back at the Mojave well learned, well geared and well fed. His plan once he arrived back with his parents was to make Nipton the most technologically advanced city in the mojave: for although the Big Empty had illustrated to him the perils of technology, the glory of the SCIENCE had overshadowed some of the lessons there.
Darlen was scavenging the rust and rubble by the decimated drive-in near his home town the night that the Legion made their move on Nipton. There he found something no one could have expected: at the Mojave Drive-In, he was the one to make contact with the downed satellite. By the power of SCIENCE it took him to the Big Empty, where he was almost gutted by the ghoul-like inhabitants. He managed to seal himself in a room with a dog-like gun, which took a liking to him. It was with the aid of this companion that he survived for two years at Big Mountain, scraping enough information together to reverse the teleportation and arrive at the Mohave again in one piece. He miraculously went entirely unnoticed by the Think Tank during his stay.
Once Darlen returned he found both his town had been subjugated by the legion, and his parents crucified: all that remained of his childhood memories were bones and ash. His experience in the Big Empty was now what defined him entirely: so now, questions loomed over him. What was his connection to the Mojave anymore? Was there anyone here worth saving? Or should he return home, to the Big Empty, which was now less alien to him than this vast desert land?
Possesses the fully functioning Hazmat Suit and Darklight Cowl, and a K9000 gun,
which he has named "Tchaikovsky". Tchaikovsky has been modified with mentat chow,
resulting in an extremely rapid fire weapon and a more intelligent and loyal dog
mind within. It will perceive threats or deceit in its environment beyond that of
what its owner can (equivalent to an alert character of 9 PERC.) It also possesses
a dogs ability to track by scent, and Darlen has taught it to recognize the unique
scent of ammo and caps (and of course, food.) Occasionally the gun has been known to
wake Darlen to alert him of danger, or to fire of its own discretion.
Sorry for the odd formatting.</s>
<|message|>Ashleigh Ackerson
Ashleigh would look over the map good a couple of times before comminting it to memory and pocketing her down payment; then she would finish drinking her tea and looking to John before replying "I'm used to doing for myself by myself. Always have. But this time I think I ought make an exception. I have a feeling this job would go ten times smoother ifanot faster, if'n neither of us had to worry bout the other one upping them or trying to stick a knife in da back, don'chu? Two heads are better than one, and I know the Mojave like the back of my hand; not to mention can hunt, cook and prepare game meat like few others. Would help us keep a low profile by taking back dirt roads folks don't normally travel. As long as its an animal and not an abomination or mutie, I can take it down and cook it. Furthermore, Ol' Khan here will keep us safe. Saved more life a good number o times, the varmint has. What do you say? I'll split is even. Girls scout's honor." She finished making the girl scout salute for good measure.</s>
<|message|>John Williams
John Williams
John looked at Ashleigh, taking in her words as well as her tough demeanor. Her gear was reminded him of the wasteland, a little scarred up, but it was still together. Perhaps that was idealistic, but a little bit of that in the wasteland probably wouldn't kill anyone.
"A man is only as good as his word," his tribal accent dancing on the end of his words, " the only problem I see is the safes. Every bobby pin I come across becomes mangled. Unless you can pick it we have the options of outside help or tricks. If we can't rely on a freesider we can only hope to talk our way in." Again John took in Ashleigh. They perhaps weren't the best pick for the job. Maybe with a little luck and if luck doesn't do it a .357 might.
The sky was slowly taking a darker color. "Ashleigh tomorrow we can take to New Vegas, but this area gets dangerous at night. Those Kings are not carrying those machine guns for nothing. There's a building further down that isn't too destroyed." The duo took flight and walked down the street further. After a couple of turns Par's tenement was out of sight and John had the feeling, just an itch he could not scratch, something or somebody was stalking them. John casually pulled the hammer back and the click rang out into the deadly silence of the night.</s>
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<|message|>Darlen Hammond
The boulder was making a soft, sandpapery sound against the elbow reinforcements on the Hazmat Suit. Darlen could see very clearly in the onset of evening: and very far through the scope of his weapon. There was less shoveling underway at Nipton: instead, the Legion men were sorting out their positions. Was this really just a big invitation? Darlen found the Legion's method of operation here outlandish. They would rather have Nipton destroyed by their enemies and the majority of it's residents killed than to take it over, assimilate it. This trap wasn't very "Nova Roma" of them.
The politics of the situation wasn't his prime concern. Darlen needed to make his move the moment he saw an opportunity to unleash chaos, and under the cover of confusion and darkness, he would be able to retrieve his sister. He searched the terrain around Nipton like a hawk scanning for prey. That's when he saw them.
At the head of the line was a Legion man, trussed up in extravagant headgear and carrying a brush rifle. Behind him were six children, Niptonites, each shackled to another child. And in the back of the line, a traitor. It was his old school teacher, with a pistol holstered, helping guide the children along, presumably on the march now toward Cottonwood cove. That bitch… Darlen was ready to shoot her legs out from under her. He had gained a lot of experience in making precise shots on the human body in the Big Empty, taking down the strange enslaved residents of the place.
Darlen waited. Then finally, the line was far enough away from the rest of the entrenched Legion. He rained fire on the foremost man, quickly puncturing him between twenty and thirty times in but two seconds. As he crumpled to the ground, the traitor panicked, fumbling with her gun, her hands too slick to properly ready it. Darlen moved on her, slamming her in the stomach with the face of his weapon, toppling her over. "What have you done…" Darlen's growling, somewhat muffled voice echoed out from under his mask. His glowing eyes shocked the traitor, and she turned completely pale as she rolled on the ground, trying to put space between them and recover. Near her Darlen spotted a key that had escaped her possession. He took it and rushed to his sister: the other two sets of children had separated and begun to run towards the road, but she had turned and forced her partner in binds to stay when she heard her brother's voice. He unlocked her chain, and just as the manacles popped free with a soft metal click he heard the snap-crack of a bullet launched and tearing through the air. The traitor had shot the boy Chloe had been manacled together with in the head, presumably by mistake while aiming for Darlen's dark armored frame. Her gun had launched from her hands when she fired and struck her forehead, knocking her unconscious as blood streamed from her nose. Darlen left her to that, lifting his sister easily off the ground and dashing away into the night. He was making a beeline for Novac, and then… The 188 Trading Post.</s>
|
<|description|>Darlen Hammond
Male - 18 years old - Loyal to Nipton
Jury Rigging (Repair 90) Repair any item using roughly similar item
Light Step (PE 6, AG 6) Floor mines and traps won't be set off
Strong Back (Str 5, End 5) Carry weight +50
SPECIAL
STR 8
PE 6
ED 5
CH 5
INT 5
AGI 6
LU 10
Focus Skills: Repair, Survival, Guns
Personality - Darlen is perpetually inquisitive. He never stop searching for more knowledge: and when he was sent to the Big Empty, he became a fish in the ocean. He swam from facility to facility, taking in as much as he could while somehow ducking danger. It was as though the boy had a guardian angel, or he would have been impaled and dissected by a Cazador long ago. Instead he thrived there, and arrived back at the Mojave well learned, well geared and well fed. His plan once he arrived back with his parents was to make Nipton the most technologically advanced city in the mojave: for although the Big Empty had illustrated to him the perils of technology, the glory of the SCIENCE had overshadowed some of the lessons there.
Darlen was scavenging the rust and rubble by the decimated drive-in near his home town the night that the Legion made their move on Nipton. There he found something no one could have expected: at the Mojave Drive-In, he was the one to make contact with the downed satellite. By the power of SCIENCE it took him to the Big Empty, where he was almost gutted by the ghoul-like inhabitants. He managed to seal himself in a room with a dog-like gun, which took a liking to him. It was with the aid of this companion that he survived for two years at Big Mountain, scraping enough information together to reverse the teleportation and arrive at the Mohave again in one piece. He miraculously went entirely unnoticed by the Think Tank during his stay.
Once Darlen returned he found both his town had been subjugated by the legion, and his parents crucified: all that remained of his childhood memories were bones and ash. His experience in the Big Empty was now what defined him entirely: so now, questions loomed over him. What was his connection to the Mojave anymore? Was there anyone here worth saving? Or should he return home, to the Big Empty, which was now less alien to him than this vast desert land?
Possesses the fully functioning Hazmat Suit and Darklight Cowl, and a K9000 gun,
which he has named "Tchaikovsky". Tchaikovsky has been modified with mentat chow,
resulting in an extremely rapid fire weapon and a more intelligent and loyal dog
mind within. It will perceive threats or deceit in its environment beyond that of
what its owner can (equivalent to an alert character of 9 PERC.) It also possesses
a dogs ability to track by scent, and Darlen has taught it to recognize the unique
scent of ammo and caps (and of course, food.) Occasionally the gun has been known to
wake Darlen to alert him of danger, or to fire of its own discretion.
Sorry for the odd formatting.</s>
<|message|>Unknown
The Crimson Caravan Job
Considering how dangerous the Wasteland was, of course someone would be stalking them, although said stalker would not make any apperance for the night. In the building they had settled in, they would find themselves sufficiently cozy to sleep in shifts, and when the next day came, they would be ready. However, what would be their options? Lockpicking was out of the question, but nothing says they couldn't pick pockets for a key that their opponents already had...
Novac
It seemed that even in this changed universe, one Craig Boone was going to be the Legion's enemy one way or another. And with him as an NCR commander in this timeline, help would come to Darlen swifter than expected, as one of the patrols under him would intercept Darlen and Chloe as they tried to make their way to Trading Post 188, their squad leader saying:
"Halt! Who goes there!" before noticing the haggard look of the two travellers, before saying, more mildly:
"Do you need help? You look like you've been through hell!"
Nipton
Reports would arrive to the local Centurion, as well as Artificer King Actus about the death of their patrol and the attack on one of their soldiers who was engaged in the 'private business' of slavery, with one of the few Niptonite townsfolk who had been allowed to betray their town knocked unconcious.
The Centurion would order more crosses put up; more Niptonites will die for this, starting with the traitor schoolteacher.
Of course, Actus can countermand this, but he would only have some minutes to do so...because unknown to him or the Centurion, Carmen was arrriving with her squad and ordnance.
@ClocktowerEchos@Wernher@thegreenleafe@APRoll201984@Hippocamp@Vulkan</s>
<|message|>Carmen Durant
It was already 3h pass midnight. Group Epsilon, now divided between Zeta team, headed by Carmen herself, Eta team by the ordinarily reckless John Brams, eager to use his two ripper chain swords, Theta team by the silent but always cool William Nash, awaiting to rush in the breech with his flamethrower and finally Iota team which would stay in support behind with their launchers, guided by the older Xavier Himmelmann with his fatman ready to bombard the town with what few nukes they had.
Normally Carmen and John would squirm in their armors due to the extremely slow pace clearing the mine field had but as per the order of Carmen, everyone was at the moment using 'Chemical assistance' to keep cool, having thus popped a mentat before going in. Most people were fine with mentats, but there had been protest about phase two, which involved combat drugs inoculation, those being more commonly known across the wastes as 'Psycho'. Buffout was also something better tolerated by the group, but with power armors? No point in increasing your strength.
"Zeta 1, this is Zeta 2, we're clear of zone Orange-Nine, ready to enter Purple-Nine, over." Carmen had kept her head down during most of the crawling but she allowed herself to peek up. The legion bunkers were within grenade throwing range (quite a length, considering Carmen's throwing arm) and Theta was already in position. Unusually for Brams, he was last. "This is Zeta 1." Said Carmen in the radio. "Eta 1, status report, over."
"Zeta 1, this is Eta 1, just one mine left to clear over." Good, this meant that the plan was thus far in synch, it seemed like good luck for them thus far. "All teams, this is Zeta 1, ready SGs and deploy on Eta 1's signal to begin phase 2, over and out."
Someone beside Carmen shuffled in the dark to ready a smoke grenade as the others went on to prepare their dose of phycho, waiting anxiously for things to go loud. "...Jesus Christ in heaven, watch over us as we fight in thy name..." Carmen clenched her teeth, Vincent was always vocal when he was about to possibly die. "Complete Silence, Corporal." And so he did.
"Eta 1 to all teams, GO! GO!"
One of the men in power armor unpinned a grenade and got up on his feet. In the distance, Carmen saw a shimmer of star light reflecting on metal as William's team did the same. A few seconds later, 3 bouts of smokes were visible around the camp as alarmed voices were raised.
"All teams, advance!"
Carmen got on her feet, raising her plasma caster as her men did the same, advancing swiftly toward the smoke. Suddenly, a familiar whizling sound was heard and moments after there was an explosion some distance in front of them the atomic blastwave making the power armors stand still for a moment before they continued onward the mushroom cloud that cleared the way in front of them.
"Iota 1, N-1 fired right on target, firing N-2!"
Now assured Xavier didn't lose his aim, Carmen rushed in the breech at full speed, entering second after one of her men. It was then that she saw them, the legionnaires rushing toward them in a hurry and with bravery. They hadn't seen them yet as the Enclave troopers used thermals to see through the smoke, showing their technological edge. Carmen raised her plasma caster, the soldier in front of them pulling the trigger on his minigun making that fearsome spinning noise that caused most of the legionaires to stop in their track. They raised their eyes in fear as they heard that sound, feeling the earth tremble under the steel boots of the power armors and finally, when they saw the glowing eyes, the distinctive features of the X01 power armor the enclave used, walking toward them in the smoke.
"Contact. Liquidating."
The minigun began to spew its leed, the first wave of reinforcement being mowed down in seconds. Carmen fired her own destructive plasma on the lines, the psycho keeping her on a murderous edge as everyone before her fell, a simple hit in the arm insuring a lost limb and agonizing pain as green goo that burned everything that it touched splashed on their chests and faces.
In the camp behind this wave, those that didn't know what was going on quickly enough realized it was an attack as missiles came flying from team Iota to hit the frontline defenses and as tiny 25mm grenades showered the camp. Epsilon had indeed acquired a grenade machinegun but had decided to use it as an indirect fire weapon, shooting it in a high angle to hit enemies behind cover.
"Keep on firing! Begin maneuvers and check for cross fires!"
The armored soldiers surged forward as around them two more nukes detonated before their reserves were spent. It was now a matter of forcing the legion out before the rest of their guns went silent, hundreds of ammunition being spent every seconds by the miniguns.</s>
<|message|>Maxwell "long shot" Rose (approved over pm)
The crimson caravan needs Maxwell's help once again. He was reluctant at first, but the caravan was never stingy with their caps when it came to professional stelth. Maxwell had drug himself across the Mojave wastes to get a hold of the caravan. It seemed that this time he needed to stalk two aledged NCR helpers who may be stalking them. This job seemed easy enough and he didn't mind taking a simple job for once, besides, it's sort of hard to say no to 800caps.
Maxwell made sure to keep his distance as he watched the two of them travel. He knew something was up, but his job currently was strictly recon. If he found out anything he was to return and than would be instructed further. For more caps of course. In the mean time he chose to keep his distance and make sure that no one would see him. Due to his short stature it was quite easy to hide should anyone try to see him. He was always prepared just in case something we're to go wrong. Lighting a cigarette Maxwell looked through his scope as he locked his sights in on the two up ahead of him. "I think I'll hold here for a moment" he said to himself as he kept the distance just inside ear shot.
As night settled he set up camp just behind a rock keeping an eye on the building the two settled into. Luckily his lonely life had trained him to stay awake for days so this recon would be a breeze, at least, so it seemed this far.</s>
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<|message|>Darlen Hammond
Darlen had remained in good shape during the trek to Novac, and his endurance hadn't faltered. He relayed what he had seen to the NCR patrol, and they mentioned Craig Boone to him. Darlen hadn't heard of the man: or the name of any NCR higher operative for that matter. In any case, since the NCR was failing to take action all over the wasteland as the Mohave deteriorated, Darlen figured he could safely rule them as irrelevant. It was nice to see that Novac wasn't being turned into a bloodbath by child slavers. At least there was some good being brought by another military presence than the Legion in the Mohave. But Darlen didn't imagine that his sister would be safe in this town, when it seemed to be next on the block after Nipton. He had to get Chloe further from land where men filled each other with lead in acts of petty dominance. So unless Craig Boone had words for him explicitly, he was going to be on the road again. He bought food and water from the NCR squad leader, in addition to what the man had given in kindness to his sister. Darlen watched her eat a well-preserved steak in the desert moonlight. He guessed that after two years she would have many questions for him, but for now tears streaked her face and patted into the sand. It would take a long time for either of them to fully adjust to what had happened at Nipton.
But as Darlen had learned, in the Mohave and in many places both far and strange. It was a world of killers. If his sister was going to be truly safe, she had to be able to guard herself. And that meant becoming one, too.
He readied himself for the road, and took his sister by the shoulders. Was this really the first night of my return? Darlen thought. It feels like the sun couldn't possibly wish to rise on a land so barren and broken as the Mohave. But Chloe knew nowhere else. Darlen was soon to ponder whether that should change, before the sands covered both of them like a funeral shroud.</s>
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<|description|>Ashleigh Ackerson
Ashleigh Ackerson
Age: 28
Looks:
Personality: Ashleigh is a practical woman, living off the land. She realizes that in this god forsaken, atomically blasted, barren, unforgiving wasteland that one cannot be picky or wasteful with food or resources. She learned from an early age that in order to survive you have to take what you can get. She was raised in backwoods areas of the west on Radscorpion, Nightstalker, Bloatfly, and Big Horns. As she grew older she would seek out books on water purification, radiation, and meat preparation/treatment; learning how to make radiated/mutated animals insects edible first- before going on to making them actually taste like food. She is an almost peerless hunter, with the only species she has found herself unable to hunt being the deadly Deathclaws, needing larger weapons or more manpower to even contemplate taking on the behemoths. She has uncanny, near superhuman senses, able to pick up things most people would overlook or ignore. While not a real doctor by any sense, she is well practiced in First Aid and immediate treatment; able to make a sling, ampoule, tourniquet and remove poison enough for real doctors to see to herself and others. She is a drifter, not really setting down any roots and moving from one city to the next, occasionally making shelter out of ruined buildings, abandoned vehicles, or the likes when necessary. She is rather clueless when coming to matters of science or energy based weapons; a more "old fashioned" and down to earth type of woman. She is also not terribly adept at public speaking or persuasion. While she can talk just fine, she doesn't have the interest or desire to lead or influence others.
Faction: Neutral
S.P.E.C.I.A.L= (45 Points spread wisely. Cannot go over 10 on any one stat)
Strength: 5
Perception: 8
Endurance: 10
Charisma: 6
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 8
Luck: 2
Backstory
Weapon choice= .45 Magnum, Sniper Rifle, Combat Knife
Perks (Add only three): Animal Friend, Hunter, Lead Belly
'Tagged' Skills (the skills you are strongest in; add only three): Survival, Sneak, Guns, Medicine, Repair, Barter
'Weak' Skills (the skills you are weakest in): Energy Weapons,Speech,Science
Any other info not included in the above=</s>
<|message|>Actus Algoran
"Do you doubt the abilities of my tribe Vulpes Inculta?" The Artificer King Actus eyed the man who had come to check on his progress, standing up from his seat in the town hall with a raised eyebrow, "We are Caesar's engineers for good reason."
"I do not but I am simply stating that it would have been far more efficient and easier to raze this depraved den of whores and bandits." Inculta's voice was just as cold and lifeless as ever, monotonous enough to be unsettling even to those who had become regular targets of his visits as hidden eyes stared down the Artificer King.
"Perhaps but now we have the NCR were we want them. Should they come they will have to assail our defenses and these new prisoners will surely be killed off in the crossfire. On the flip side, should they fail to come, it will be a sign that the Republic does not have the power or courage or perhaps even kindness to even attempt to defend the people here." Visibly proud, Actus boasted of his plan with outstanding confidence, "At any rate, we will force a battle here and take home some new slaves and resources; Caesar's orders after all. Even if we cannot obtain a military victory here a political victory shall be born."
With little else to remark, Vulpes Inculta was escorted out by Actus to the entrance of the town hall now being used as a command center. A group of legionary escorts came to the Vulpes's side and with a "Hail Caesar!" the man began his way out of the city as it was being turned into a death trap, careful not to disturb andy pitfalls or landmines on their journey. King Actus on the other hand turned to face the front where trenches were being dug. Slaves towed in rocks and the trailers they once lived in to be used as bunkers. Out in the open was open bait, a cage consisting of captured persons who could not escape but it was more than just them in the middle of a minefield and pitfall traps, several of the slaves were squatting on pressure mines that would explode if they moved ensuring that if the NRC tried to move them, they'd all die.
Even should the defense fail, Actus had already made contingencies and had his son Heorem set up fall back points if not against his will. All that remained was constructing excuses for Caesar should he be questioned for it. With so many degenerate meatsheilds however, Actus had full confidence that even if the NRC sent its entire army at his defenses, he would still grant the Legion victory in the hearts and minds of the people of the Mojave.</s>
<|message|>Darlen Hammond
Darlen Hammond
Darlen had peered down the sights of Tchaikovsky at his hometown and been mortified. He saw schoolmates and neighbors looking on in terror from cages as the Legion dug many peril-filled holes in the ground. He might be able to save a few of those he knew, despite being alone… Darlen had a lot of experience with danger filled spots. There was one alive he had intention to save, most of all… his kid sister Cloey was there amongst the crowd of Nipton locals, crying and clinging to their neighbor, her face pressed into a skirt. He had recognized her by her dress and hair through the scope of his gun. All of this added up to one enormous problem… Now what could be his solution?
"I can't believe this is happening to us… No one should have stayed in Nipton after Joey and Samuel were abducted near Cottonwood Cove. It was insane to think we were anywhere near safe…"
Tchaikovsky growled in a low tone, and his "ears" moved to the right. Someone's there… thought Darlen, taking his eyes off the proceedings in Nipton and onto the ridges close to his vantage point. He spotted two figures moving in his direction, weaving in between the tall cacti. Have they spotted me? No, just scouting… But now they have me pinned. If I move, they could turn and spoil my location. I'll have to take my shots then leave. I'll run for that old man's ranch… Darlen took aim for the lower bodies of the Legion sentries. He made his mark with a rapid stream of bullets, tearing through the body of one man and easily sliding his aim onto the next target and shredding his abdomen as well. They both dropped, gasping and bloody, and Darlen had turned and begun his run to the Ranch as soon as he had heard no cry come from them. As the scout wheezed softly, the last he saw was a dark figure with a shock of blonde hair disappearing over a nearby ridge. It was too late for him to warn his brothers of the incredible danger encroaching on their defenses.
Darlen found Wolfhorn Ranch entirely deserted. The old man he and his family had used to buy meat from was gone, without a trace left behind. Ulysses, Darlen remembered his name was… The man had always seemed to have seen so much, more than most of the wasteland residents. He had once picked up Darlen when he was young and told the boy he saw "great potential" in those eyes. Darlen couldn't say why he thought this of a Bighorn rancher, but the man knew what he was talking about when he spoke of capability. He picked up a flyer off of a counter, next to a large chopper-style knife. It was for the services of a "Forecaster" at the 188 Trading Post. He had heard of him before… The forecaster had predicted the death of one of his schoolmates. He had heard the other students talking about how Jon's parents, the boy who was soon to die, had asked the forecaster about their young son: the result was a vision of the boy being consumed by a large lizard. Later, Jon ended up being too close to a gecko nest while practicing shooting.
It seemed to Darlen that the 188 Trading Post could hold the answers he needed about his place in the wasteland, perhaps even a way to liberate those he needed to from Nipton. With the current number of Legion troops there, rescuing his sister Cloey seemed unrealistic. But he knew what the Legion would do with the children of those they captured. With his parents out of the way, Cloey would be conscripted, and taken to one of the Legion camps to be trained to one day become one of their servants or wives. What he needed to know most of all was when they would try to move her and the other young prisoners… And that meant he didn't have time for fortune telling just yet. He had to keep an eye on the movements of Legion troops as best he could… And he was glad that he had the means to do so. He tossed a ragged jacket over his Hazmat Suit and donned the Darklight Cowl. He was ready to swoop into the storm that would come, and do whatever it took to bring Cloey out of it.</s>
<|message|>John Williams
John Williams
John did not consider himself a thief. Sure, maybe stealthy, but never a thief. Back in Arizona stealth was a virtue.The creatures of the waste were much more dangerous than those of the old world. There was the easy prey, like Big Horners, but in the wasteland most things are not prey, but predator. Geckos, Deathclaws, and Radscorpions are constant threats. It might be hard to believe that a Deathclaw could sneak around, but entire groups of hunters have been wiped out in one slash. John was not the best hunter, but he always came back and he always brought back something. From hunting to soldier John carried an extraordinary ability of coming back alive with whatever was required. When John deserted the Legion that was all he had left was the skills he picked up and they translated really well into a bounty hunting. The contracts offered good money, preferably alive, but some souls really just needed a bullet. Not every job was for a bounty sometimes a friend of a friend of a friend needs a little help. Currently a friend of a friend of a friend was in need of a little help. John was all for it, the only problem was the gunfight he just happened to stumble into between the Fiends and the NCR.
Bullets were flying everywhere, the Fiends were armed with whatever weapons they could get a hold of and the NCR was armed to the teeth, complete with an assortment of brush rifles and assault rifles. John still wasn't sure how he got himself into this mess, sure this side of Vegas can be bad, but a full fledged battle? The Fiends need to lay off the jet. Currently John was propped up against a window of a two story shithole with two NCR soldiers firing off his repeater rifle. The problem was not insufficient firepower, but instead the overwhelming force of Fiends. There were about twenty of them and around 8 NCR soldiers, half of them were green as the sparse grass and just were shitting down their boots. John squeezed another shot off hitting the drug addled raider center mass. With another in his sights John pulled the trigger only to be met with the dead man's click.
"Fuck really?" He pulled back into cover and began to reload. Downstairs the sound of a brush rifle fired off followed by a screams. Not another fucking one John pulled out his revolver and crept down the stairs. The fiend didn't hear John, not one peep, but that did not have anything to do with John. The raider was animalistically tearing into the soldier, without thinking John fired off two shots into him. The screams stopped, not because of the pain, because of the blood filling his throat. The soldier's eyes screamed for a quick end and John delivered the wasteland's most pure form of reward, a bullet to the head. John reloaded his pistol only to find he had three bullets left. Upstairs his rifle had eight more, that was 16 total bullets. Just fuck me He thought. John wasn't proud of what he was about to do, but the only thing you can do in the Mojave is survive. Upstairs the NCR soldier was firing away each shot taking him closer and closer to that inevitable click. John went back up and grabbed his rifle before offering some half assed excuse to shoot from downstairs. Without a second thought John slipped out away from the battle, avoiding eyes or bullets.
The rest of the trip to the meeting point was not as much as an adventure as the previous hour. Finding the address seemed to be the hard part. He was looking for a tenement building complete with a garage. This side of Vegas' middle name was rundown tenement, but it became a lot easier to find as there were Kings, complete with 10 millimeter machine guns protecting the house. Honestly John did not know if they were expecting his arrival and finding out could result in a couple bullets buried in his chest. Luckily they seemed bored and became distracted when a giant rat began to scurry about. Taking his chance John darted and headed for the back. There was a door and a couple windows. The door was locked and the windows were all but bored up. The only thing he could think of doing was to knock on the door, so he did.</s>
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<|message|>Ashleigh Ackerson
Ashleigh was not a thief, she would take things from corpses she came across- because Hell if the dead had any need for Stimpacks, caps, ammo, clothes or the likes- And most of what she needed she could find out in the wild. She had always had a surprising resistance to radiation, and a stronger stomach than most, able to eat meat from the creatures of the wastelands as well make them edible for other people. But unfortuantely she needed caps to replenish her supplies or buy ammunition for her weapons from time to time and that meant taking up Jobs where they would come up. She had no wish to throw her life away trying to liberate a town of whores and thieves, she had no desire or intention to commit genocide in the name of science hunting ghouls, and didn't care at all for the politics of the Republic and the damned fanaticals in the Legion. So this trader's request as shady as it might be, was the best option. Regrettably it would require her to get involved with the NCR, but caps were caps after all....
Upon her arrival at the side of New Vegas Asheligh would find another traveller who had apparently taken up Rapids' request eyeing the Kings' heavily fortified dwelling, as well the guards getting bored with their current duty and taking thier boredom out on a stray rodent, that she herself could possibly take out with her magnum from 50 yards back. She noticed the other individual try to sneak around back. She could try to do the same, but she figured the diplomatic approach might be better. So she would reach into her bag and pull out the flier that she had decided to take with her before slinging her gun over her shoulder and holstering her pistol as well holding her hands up in a pacifist gesture. "Ho, there! Don't shoot! I'm here to see a Mr. Rapids! I've got a flier for the bounty! I'm not here for a fight! May I come in!?"</s>
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<|description|>Adam Philip
Appearance: Imagine Bryan Cranston in Breaking Bad. Now, age him back 10 years. To top this off, give him a white beard and a wig. This is what Adam Philip looks like
Personality: Adam Philip has one driving force in his life: hatred. But not of people. No, of magnets. So, he's pretty laid back. Pretty sure you could shoot him and he wouldn't care. That's just theorizing.
Biography: Adam's whole family was slaughtered in front of his eyes at a young age. Not by a murderer, but by modern art. It was Thanksgiving, and the whole Philip's family was at little Adam's house. Then, his cousin's boyfriend sealed their fate. After installing a modern art piece utilizing magnets in the house as an early Christmas gift, the knives spilled out of the cupboard and murdered everyone except Adam, who was in the bathroom at the time. He believes the magnets to be at fault, and has dedicate his life to eradicating Earth's magnetic field. That is why he established this lab. However, nobody knows this as they would stop him if they did.
Items:
Nuclear Keychain: Opens any door in the lab
"Totally Legal" Cigarette: Pretty sure this is weed but I'm not sure.</s>
<|message|>Grand Duchess Eliana Elatir, IMIA (Imperial Minister of Intergalactic Affairs), SDMI (Supreme Doctor of Medical Intervention)
Eliana Elatir
interacting with Mari @cynder
Eliana yawned, stretching her arms up over her head and blinking her eyes open. She sat up, stretching again, and easing out of her luxurious bed that was made out of a matchbox lined with beanbags and cotton balls and soft cloths. She padded across the smooth desk, fumbling for the switch that turned on the strings of Christmas lights that ran along the ceiling of her cardboard box suite. Standing before the tin-foil mirror, she ran a pink plastic hairbrush (that looked suspiciously like a Barbie doll's) through her fiber-optic locks. She slipped into her standard attire, fitted blue dress and somewhat sheer white lab coat with a monogrammed "E" on it. She settled her silver circlet (that marked her role as Grand Duchess) onto her head, and threaded her wings through the slits in the back of her clothes, fluttering a few times to get the circulation to them going.
She opened the small swinging doors that split her boxy home in two. She turned on the tiny ultraviolet lamp, sighing in relief as her wings trembled, drawing in the energy. When she had enough to get through the morning, she switched the light back to the normal and roused Aeona. The sleepy puffsprite yawned, leaping at Eliana and clinging to her, all six limbs wrapped around her torso. "We go work?" The little creature chirped, running its antennae over Eliana's face, draping its fluffs over her head and shoulders.
"Yes, Aeona, we're going to work."
"Yay! I play with Mickey and Minnie!" The puffsprite flailed some of its fluffs and its antennae. Mickey and Minnie were the lab mice that were being used to test the effect of the neurotoxin. "Wait, do I get to eats them?"
"Yes, yes.-- wait, no! I mean yes, you get to play with them, but no, you don't get to eat them yet. If you ask nicely Woro might give you a bite of steak."
"But steak is icky when cooked. I like juicy."
Eliana laughed, bouncing the puffsprite on her hip and causing it to say "wheee!"
The Grand Duchess exited her box, fluttering up into what was the lab's breakroom. The others here had been kind enough to give her a cardboard box that rested in the corner, behind the counter. She stretched again, straightening her lab coat, and then exited the break room through the mail slot. She flew straight to the lab, grinning as Aeona detached from around her waist and fell in slow-motion, its fluffs spinning around her, into the mouse cage. The mice flinched away from the small puffsprite, which wobbled over to them anyway and clung to one of them. Eliana giggled, turning to leave - Aeona would take care of itself.
She flew to the bedroom of Mari Suya and tapped on the doorframe. "Mari? Are you awake yet, dear?"</s>
<|message|>Mari Suya
Mari Suya
Interacting with: @RomanAria
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Mari Suya was blaring My Chemical Romance to adjust to her daily emotions and also to ignore the chaos of the laboratory that was in motion just on the other side of her bedroom door (especially when someone was begging for her help - she was so compassionate, but why would she help them when nobody else did?) when she heard a tiny knock at the door. At first she believed that she had imagined it, but there was a voice along with it: "Mari? Are you awake yet, dear?"
It sounded like Eliana, the token. . fairy space woman(?) who also took up residence at this hell hole of a "laboratory". Mari knew Eliana and she also knew Argent, Philip, Maya, Denny, Worogoro, and all the others who were somehow affiliated with the laboratory as well, but there was always the question of her fondness of the individuals. For some reason, Mari often found that she got along with men more than women and it didn't had NOTHING to do with jealousy. She did like Eliana though. Or rather, she thought of Eliana as a friendly rival who was not as perfect as she was, but close.
"I'm awake," Mari shouted, getting up from the desk that was in her room only to head over to the door and find herself face-to-face with the miniature woman, "Did you need something?"</s>
<|message|>Margaret "Maya" O'Beirne
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Maya stared at the iron door, which she had to scramble away from to avoid ending up looking like a pancake, at her feet. She lifted her head to look at Worogoro, who looked just as confused as she did; and then the moment ended - both started scrambling about. Of course, Maya was trying to escape, and the ork was trying to keep her in. Before she could even reach the other end of the room, the iron door was back up, and Maya ran right into it with a loud clank!
Maya groaned, rubbing her head as she lifted herself from the floor, just in time for Worogoro's entrance:
"Lissen 'ere, you want da meetz den youz gotta annoy da big boss. Also, no eatin' me squig eitha!" Maya looked at the squig, rather unappetisingly; even she wouldn't touch that thing with a 10 foot pole. Unless of course, it was chewing on her leg, as it often would whenever Worogoro and Maya got into a scrap.
"But you're my big boss, Pickle," she cooed, almost flirtatiously, as she approached the giant ork. And much like a spidermonkey, Maya pounced onto the giant figure and scampered about in order to avoid being pulled back off. Worogoro wasn't in any real danger, because there was no way that Maya could actually tear into the little amount of face that he actually left exposed.
Instead, Maya was too busy looking for any trace of the steak that she'd spied earlier. Eventually, Maya stopped scampering around, instead decided to unleash her inner sloth and lock her arms and legs around Worogoro's large arm, her head by his armored hand. No matter how hard she was shaken, Maya didn't seem to care, in fact - she found it fun.</s>
<|message|>Worogoro
Worogoro
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"Iz not ya boss, ya zoggin' grot! Wait... akkualy, yes! Iz iz ya boss so listen ta me 'umie!" the ork bellowed as he stamped about, flailing his mechanical body as Maya preformed some excellent gymnastics on his large body, "N mahz not Pickles fo da last time! Gerrroff me!"
There was however, a certain fondless in the way the girl said how he was her big boss that rang in Worogoro's head. Not beacuse of how she said it but the fact she said it at all as all orks have the desire to become the biggest, greenest, meanest warboss. 'Bout time I got meself sun respek 'ere. Worogoro thought to himself as he attempted to shake the girl off as she hunted down his stake. In a desperate attempt to save the meat, the ork threw it at (literally) his pet squid who was sent back as the chunk of meat hit him in the face, "RUN MY SQUIG, RUN!"
Shaking the stars (and possible concussion) it had out of its head, the squig grabbed the meat and ran upstairs. It kept running up and up until it found its way into the office of big boss Phillips. In the mean while, its owner was still wrestling with the monkey attached to him. Worogoro shouted another great roar of anger as he shook the girl, once again shaking the building through sound waves alone.
Wretching the child off with his other hand, the ork threw her back into her padded room and went in, closing the door behind him (some how even though it physically wouldn't work under normal laws of logic) before he stomped ardoun the room in circles around the girl, never breaking eye contact, "I likez ya, rioght feisty 'un ya arr. Ya seem da most willin' to fioght so lemme make ya an offa; woo eva krumpz da otha first winz."</s>
<|message|>Eve Tyler
The walls covered in peeling paint had been charred by the many people who frequently caught on fire. An Eve starred at a burn mark, contemplating how to minimize the amount that would appear. She thought about applying chemicals that were resistant to fire, or setting up force field along the walls. Strangely, it did not occur to her, that she could immediately lessen the amount appearing by putting out one of the workers who had been running around screaming for quite some time now.
As the Eve starred intently at the wall, oblivious to everything else, the worker finally stopped screaming- because an old lady appeared out of nowhere and wacked him with a cane so hard he fell over. "The nerve of today's youth, when I was young we did things right. Yep WE never caught on fire."
She continued to lecture him while he slowly burned. Someone was finally kind enough to put him out when they were at the "In my days, anyone who was on fire was looked down" part of the speech. The Eve that had been staring at the wall finally looked up to see that the area had gotten a lot more damaged, and that an employee had had most his clothes burnt off, and was still giving off smoke.
As all that was going on, another Eve walked to overly complicated door that had an overpowered security system. She looked down at what appeared to be a pile of intertwined metals that wriggled about in her hands like she was reading off a screen. She knocked on the door and waited- for a long while. Assuming the door also had a camera to monitor the area, she spoke.
"Excuse me, a black whole is currently forming inside your room. Could you please let me inside to clean it?"</s>
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<|message|>Adam Philip
Adam sighed. He had been staring at the very first page of The Cat in The Hat for a while now, trying to decipher the illustrations that he was SURE held the secret to unraveling wormholes, and eventually, magnetic fields. No, Adam was so wrapped up in his "work" that he didn't notice his chair collapsing due to Argent's nanomachines or whatever they were, nor did he notice the giant roar that had come from their resident orc. No, Dr. Seuss was a doctor for a reason. His thesis on felines and tesseracts were truly sublime, and Adam was sure some of his other books held significance. Perhaps Oh The Places You'll Go was a map of the dimensional plane? No one could know for sure. His mind was an enigma that read entirely in rhyme. But we're getting off topic. He closed the "grand tome", got up from his spot on the floor, and walked over the bookcase. He scanned the many shelves, and found what he was looking for:
THE BUTTON
He sweat in a dramatic fashion. It was time. This would decide the fate of the company. He looked around, thought for a moment, and slammed down the piece of metal.
Attention All Employees. There Is A Meeting In The Board Room In 10 Minutes. Please Do Not Be Late.
These 19 words made dread grow in the hearts of all the workers. Meetings meant death in this company. The last meeting they had, half their work force was transported into space via a wormhole. The one before that, a nuke was launched on the ISS. (That had landed them in some hot water.) Adam sprinted down the hall, and jumped into the meeting room. It was time.
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LARGE METAL DOOR
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M E N A C I N G
</s>
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<|description|>Margaret "Maya" O'Beirne
Personality
Maya has been driven absolutely mad by the vast amount of experimentation performed on her; her muffled laughter announces her presence, and a trail of destruction is always left in her wake - if something exists, it must be destroyed, like she.
History
Maya used to be a normal and happy high schooler, until she was reported missing late in her first semester. She supposed that she'd just be forgotten, as she wasn't at the school long enough to be cared enough.
She ended up in the APTLLFTS laboratory, where she was brutally tested on. At first she screamed and resisted, but after one particular gruelling torture session experiment, Maya just... broke. She'd lost all of her humanity and sanity.
After an incident where she attempted to eat her handler's arm (she managed to get away with three of his fingers), Maya is required to be gagged at all times. Of course, Maya wouldn't settle for cloth in her mouth, so she stole a gas mask from one of the experimentation chambers; no-one quite knew how she got it, as it was in a restricted area to begin with. No staff member has tried to take it back since the first person who did got mauled by the insane girl and spent the next 3 months in ICU.
Perhaps, maybe one day, her sanity could be restored...
Interesting Physical Traits
* Maya still wears her school uniform, which is now soaked in the blood of many staff members.
* Maya is covered in scars, and her eyes are forever blood-shot.
* Under her mask, she has jagged teeth.
Items
* Her gasmask (worn)
* Broken handcuffs (worn)</s>
<|message|>H.A.T v1 but he's known to his colleagues as HAT. It stands for Human Augmentation Technology version 1.0.
The robot "woke up" so-to-speak. In the corner of the room, his blue "eye" lit up and he slowly walked towards Adam. Fuck. They forgot to wake him up again. "I'll be off to do some experiments." the robot said. His joints began to lube up and he walked quicker until he started running into the biogenetics lab.
There, he took a microscope and began watching microbes do things. He looked at his chart and let out a robotic sigh. Simple experiments. The genius intellect of the the world's greatest mathematicians combines and he was forced to slave away like.. some.. sort.. of.. robot..? Well, he was a robot after all. His main experiment involved transferring the Cyclodomes to the Sientswords' petri dish. He lifted one up and brought it over to the other dish before dropping it. He then repeated that before dropping it again.
And again.
He promptly looked on the desk in the lab before grabbing a laser pistol and shooting the petri dishes, microscopes, and everything else in the room.
The ork's roar didn't bother him as he wandered out of the bio laboratory section. Another boring day.</s>
<|message|>Amadeus Worthington
Amadeus Worthington!
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Amadeus' day began like any other average joe scientist's would. At around 5:00AM, his alarm clock went up to tell him that it was time to stop whimpering and aiming his multi-tool at the vent next to his bed, and get to his morning routine. He swung his legs out of bed, and plodded about his salvaged USG lifeboat evacuation pod wearing only his USG Crew Member sweater and his favorite (read: only) pair of clean briefs.
He approached the makeshift mirror he constructed from a medical drone and stolen rear view mirrors. The thing held the various pieces of reflective glass up with multiple extendible arms, some that creaked and retracted, others that fizzled and fell off. He checked his mask-adorned face and tousled his hair before giving out a vocoded sigh.
Then he pressed his CommLink's receiver button and 'Sweet Home Alabama' by Lynyrd Skynyrd started blasting through his helmet.
He jigged and jived as he brushed the front of his mask with a toothbrush, before proceeding to take out a disposable razor to try and get at that pesky 5 o'clock shadow on his breathing apparatus. In the shower, he howled out of tune to the song like a baboon in distress, taking care to get at all those creases and crannies on his mask with the loofah. Breakfast was easy, he thought as he uncapped a tube marked "Gud Gunk" and squeezed its entirety into the input port on his mask. The greenish brown gunk dribbled out from beneath and down onto his neck.
"Awwh cripes." He said as he moved back into his bathroom and gave his mouth a proper wash. Difficult but at least his breath, and mask, would smell minty fresh.
---
With that done and dusted, he stepped into the suit storage unit and let it dress him in his usual attire, EVA auxiliaries and all with a clean sweater and clean pants to match. He promptly exited his evacuation pod to the alley it had crashed in, just a few minutes walk from Mr. Phillips' (or as he liked to call him, Dr. Phil's) swanky laboratory. Amadeus entered and commenced his daily morning routine of checking on everyone in the building.
"Mornin', Dr. Phil!" Engrossed in his readings as always, such an inspiration. And one of Amadeus favorite scientific journals too. What a swell boss to work under.
"Mornin', Ms. Suya!" The roll of her eyes means that she's having a good morning. The distant look of longing and the sparkling flick of her rainbow hair meant that she was hungry or something. Amadeus would get her a bearclaw later.
"Mornin', Mr. McAllister!" He was always so chipper in the morning. Amadeus knew they shared a special bond. Especially with the all the nicknames they had for each other. Like how Amadeus would call him 'Mr. Mac' and he would call Amadeus 'bloody nuisance' and 'useless slime'.
Such a special bond.
"Mornin', Ms. O'Beirne!" He didn't have any scrap for her to chew on, but he'd find some soon enough. For now he could only offer some Jolly Ranchers. They were a pretty good substitute in his opinion.
"Mornin', HAT!" The triggerhappy bot put him on edge with that laser pistol, but it was great to see him all the same. He couldn't offer HAT a Jolly Rancher to he resolved to just saluting at him.
He finished the greetings by heading straight to the coffee machine and starting up a brew.
It was there that he was confronted with the massive form of his good buddy Worogoro, killing a whole pot of joe in one go. He was impressed, as always. His blaring rock music ensured he couldn't hear the terrifying roar that he made before, so his nerves were fine. He popped a pill and squeezed it beneath hs mask to be sure. Now was the time to socialise, his favorite part of his job.
"Well hey there, Mean and Green! I see your enjoying the brew to start the day! Y'know I really do favor that there double shot espresso, but I see you take yours black! I never could do that myself, far too bitter for too long. Quick and painless is how I work."
He tried his best to shuffle around the massive bulk of the Ork to get to the coffee machine, voice practically smiling for him in place of a face.</s>
<|message|>Rex
Rex had a system for surviving the morning rush, and the accquistion of something approximating a healthy breakfast for whatever he was, and this morning was much like any other. It began with carefully perching upon a coat stand that had long since given up it's career as a place for coats and hats to pursue it's lifelong dream of gathering dust. It remained near enough to the entrance to suit Rex's purposes, a perch from which he could wait for Amadeus to make his entrance. More or less right on time, Amadeus passed by, and Rex leapt to the ground, following along in his footsteps on all fours. With his ears perked up, his nose to the ground, and his eyes focused on his feet, Rex wove a meandering path behind Amadeus.
Then, on the final approach to the coffee machine, he made his move. Scrambling rather ungracefully out from behind Amadeus, he made his way up onto the table that held the miraculous machine that provided the bitter brown stuff that he had developed something of a craving for. After only one failed attempt to clamber up the table leg and on to the tabletop proper, he sat and stared at where the pot would be - should be! - were it not for the big, green coffee stealing machne that was Worogoro.
Rex stared despondently at the coffee machine, sans pot.
"Why? Coffee?"
The coffee machine, unsurprisingly, did not answer back.</s>
<|message|>Worogoro
Worogoro
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The Ork looked at Amadeus with a tilted glance, words came out of his mouth but they still sounded more foreign than anything he'd ever heard of (considering he had heard what a space elf on drugs reciting human poetry sounded like, this was saying something). The man's oddly chipper attitude never sat well with him, not orky enough of course. His masked face (Worogoro wasn't even sure the man had a face to be perfectly honest) bamboozling the ork who attempted to figure countless methods of trying to the mask off in the past, most of which involving his pet squig, but never really got out of the planning stages. His other side though, when he got all jumpy and shooty, Worogoro liked, at that point he looked like "a 'umie ready fo a scrappin'."
"Mornin'..." the ork growled as he lumbered towards fridge past the masked man and opened the door with a flick of his massive klaw, his squig clearly excited of what was inside. Shooing his pet away, the ork pulled a cut of raw cattle and began to rip into it with his mouth of teeth; he would of course prefer it to be cooked but this was just one of those days where he couldn't be bothered finding his flamethrower and cooking it. As he munched and crunched, Worogoro's eyes wandered up and he groaned, "Y'z it alwayz me 'oo gotta feed da bitey git?"
Diving back into the fridge, the Ork pulled out a squeeze bottle labelled "Maya Ration", this smooth paste like stuff that was fed to the resident psychopath (although that refer to anyone honestly...). Slamming the fridge hard enough to shake its contents, Worogoro stomped his way down to the basement, grunting a greeting at HAT as he walked past the robot. With the rickety wood, groaning under Worogoro's weight, he made his way to the "cell" holding Maya: A glorified closet painted white on the inside with a metal door more rivets and bolts than actual plates at this point.
"Oi, you awake ya grot?" Worogoro banged on the door with his metal fist, shaking the door frame as he did, most of the dents on the slab of metal of a door was caused by him, the other probably the result of various levels of rage from the other humans or otherwise. Taking a chunk out of his steak he opened up the view port (read: letter slot installed the wrong way) and looked in. Worogoro didn't have his gitfinda on him so he'd just have to look in himself before he threw in the bottle of goopy paste. Technically Maya was supposed to have a certain amount, but Worogoro didn't give enough of a damn for the precise measurements, the bottle would also be a nice toy for the girl to chew on, he wondered if he should get a metal canteen for feeding as to give an iron supplement to Maya's diet.</s>
<|message|>Adam Philip
LARGE METAL DOOR
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M E N A C I N G
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<|message|>Margaret "Maya" O'Beirne
The sound of creaking wood trying hard to support the weight of probably the lab's largest resident pulled Maya from her trance and perked her interest. Of course, her whole room shook when her dear ol' Robot Pickle banged his tank of a hand on her already heavily-damaged door - Maya was pretty sure that he was going to be the one to cause her escape, 'cause soon this baby was going to fall again. Why did they never bother to get a good door? A few more bangs from Worogoro, and she could just push the door down. "Oi, you awake ya grot?"
Maya scuffled to her feet, and was going to sprint to her little opening which she only wished she could squeeze through; but, when she got half way across the room, Worogoro had simply tossed her whole bottle into her cell, and hopefully without aiming, had smacked Maya right in the face with it. The force had sent her flying back into the rear wall with a loud crash. The inner Maya wanted to scream and cry, but the rest of her was more focused on the food.
In one movement, Maya had ripped off her mask and shoved the bottle in her mouth. Unsurprisingly, she didn't drink from it like a normal person - she bit right into the side, sending the goop flying all over the place and on her, but she "enjoyed" it anyway. Spying a glimpse of Worogoro's hand through her door's opening, she noticed that he was carrying a raw steak. Again, she scrambled back to the door, leaning as most as she could against the letter slot. Her face had a long, bottle-shaped red mark across it, but she didn't care.
"Aw, Pickle, why can't I have any steak?" she whined through her tiny window between her and the livestock researchers. She knew exactly why she couldn't be handed food - she'd actually try to bite the hand that fed her. But of course, that didn't stop Maya from trying. She was nothing if not obstinate.
Maybe that's why many of the researchers refused to work with her - out of fear for their limbs. But then there's Worogoro, the giant Ork who for some reason wore heavy armor. Was it for her, just so he wouldn't potentially die from spending time with her? Don't be daft, Maya's inner voice reprimanded her, you just can't be trusted.</s>
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<|description|>Amadeus Worthington
Personality: Amadeus is a friendly kind of guy, even if he isn't the most formal or work-appropriate. He's always up for a conversation about the game last night, how the big corporations are watching everything we do, or how cool jazz is.
That is, when he isn't going through one of his flashback episodes to his time on the USG Jerusalem. The things he's seen are things that no man should have to experience, let alone reexperience. And so, to survive, he has learned to 'switch on' those same instincts that lead him through those perilous 2 years. Anything that moves becomes a threat, ripe for dismantling and stomping. But sometimes it turns on without his input.
At least he's on meds now.
History: When the rescue teams recovered him, Amadeus was a shivering pile of frayed nerves and rampant panic. The research station he was posted on, the USG Jerusalem, was only supposed to be a 6 week deal after all. So after drifting through space in a biological and mechanical hell of his own making for 2 years, it was understandable if he was shooting everything that moved and stamping it to paste and/or parts. It's just to be sure, after all. He has to be sure.
He is noted as being a fantastic researcher and test assistant. Partially due to his Doctorates in the fields of Robotics and Engineering and partially because of his tendency to survive drastic conditions despite all the odds against him. He'll go through hell and back for a friend, then the next day he'll be leaning over your workstation, asking how the wife and kids are.
Interesting Physical Traits: Always wears his internals, never removes his mask, several bionic and cybernetic implants such as a CommLink and and ID Chip.
Items: Atmospheric regulatory internals (oxygen, air filters, etc), EVA auxiliaries (boot jets, pressure regulation suit), several flavors of Jolly Rancher on hand at times and a refitted industrial multi-tool with functions altered to be more combat-ready.</s>
<|message|>Mari Suya
Mari Suya
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Mari Suya had been sitting in her room scrolling on a website with a certain green color scheme long before the others had stirred. She missed the quiet as it allowed her to sit and cry about the tragic murder of her parents and boyfriend before having a hearty bowl of cereal with colors that matched her rare and beautiful rainbow hair. The milk represented her white angel wings and sometimes when she was lonely, she would play with the cereal pieces and if she was lucky, there was sometimes an employee to keep her company. . . though they were usually on fire and screaming for bloody mercy which is something that Mari had become adjusted to ignoring.
Today, however, Mari wasn't exactly feeling lonely. She was feeling quite popular on the website that she was browsing and this was a result of her new "OC" or original character, Selena Ebony Moonlyte Dementia Dark'Ness Wentz. Selena, like Mari, had bright rainbow hair and was well-liked by boys especially. Although Selena was a Goddess, she could also turn into a wolf and had bright blue angel wings that would change depending on the cycle of the moon. Like Mari, Selena's parents had tragically died after a forbidden romance and a war was started over the girl, but for different reasons. Selena was also a rock star, magical girl, princess, and a host for a maid cafe. She was absolutely perfect just like Mari and that's why Mari loved her and why people loved Selena and therefore loved Mari.
Even the obnoxious screaming of Worogoro could not draw her away this trance for Mari knew that she wasn't like the other girls.</s>
<|message|>Argent McAllister
Argent McAllister
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There he stood in his personal study, a room that had formerly been a community space, which he had taken over not by asking people to get out, or to allow it to him, but by adorning it with the most advanced security measures their world had to offer including, but not limited to a fingerprint pad, an eye scanner, a measuring scale, a DNA test, passcode, numeric lock, several advanced padlocks, a dial mechanism or five, voice verification, a bioengineered 'guard beast,' a specialized, adaptive personality and background test, a highly advanced virtual intelligence, and a quantum recognition system.
The only downside to the security measures was that it took him about 5-10 minutes to enter his study every single time, which while vexing, was worth the personal space, security, and isolation from the insular minds of his...decidedly less science-minded compatriots. He shuddered and then spat upon the ground, one of his drones cleaning up the mess .003 seconds after it had been made. Turning his attention away from his terrible employer and "fellow." employees, Argent McAllister walked across the room and then began interacting with a holographic keyboard, his fingers zooming over it with inhuman efficiency. Two seconds passed and there were eight paragraphs written on the display, which upon the finishing of the final sentence opened several windows. McAllister swapped between them, checking the status of various projects of his, some of them outsourced at other labs where he operated them remotely with a variety of highly advanced robots.
Pulling away he looked out the window and, judging by the angle of light entering the window, he could tell it was about time for him to--UGHHH--associate with the rest of the staff. Though, more importantly, for him to check up on the three ongoing experiments of his that he hadn't outsourced.
Walking to the door he punched a series of codes, setting the system up to monitor his location and status, as well as to notify him of any impending threats of possible breaches in security, not to mention status reports on his various projects. As he exited the room, he stopped for a moment to take stock of his belongings before glancing almost longingly back at his study before the door was closed.
Once he'd gotten a good look of its comforting aesthetic he turned his eyes away and snapped his fingers. In response, all of his security measures slipped into place, the guard beast rising out from the floor, where it was held in place by several stasis beams a cage, and a series of chains.
Moving on Argent went downstairs to the first floor, the sound of the disgusting ork's roar reaching him easily. Seconds before it occured his ears were covered by what looked like headphones while he braced himself on the stairs. When the tremors had passed he continued down and then through the hall, seeking out their joke of a boss 'Adam Philip'. Finding him reading a fucking doctor seuss book, at which Argent scoffed with great derision, the scientist cleared his throat loudly to get the man's attention, before he spoke.
Once he had the man's attention he began, "Why aren't you in the lab working on the experiments or looking over data here?" While it was a question, it almost sounded like the arrogant Argent was trying to order Philip to do those very things. He glanced around the room, his normal--almost permanently--scowl forming on his features as he did. He snapped his fingers twice, then tapped his wristband. In response several hundred minuscule nanobots erupted from the cracks in the walls and floors and got started with cleaning the place up and organizing things properly.
He did this...EVERY FUCKING DAY when Philip arrived. It was ludicrous, he was NOT a janitor, but nonetheless he could not STAND how the place looked...let alone smelled after a day's work. "Furthermore, why are you reading Dr. Seuss of all things?! It is a child's book and you are certainly NOT a child, Mr. Philip," as he said the man's name, he glared at him, clearly perturbed to find his "boss" slacking off yet-a-fucking-gain. He was at the end of his rope with the man, and it showed.
It was particularly apparent when he accidentally--and subconsciously--commanded some of the nanobots to deconstruct one of the legs of Adam's chair. AFter all, the nanobots were, first and foremost, linked to Argent's consciousness.</s>
<|message|>H.A.T v1 but he's known to his colleagues as HAT. It stands for Human Augmentation Technology version 1.0.
The robot "woke up" so-to-speak. In the corner of the room, his blue "eye" lit up and he slowly walked towards Adam. Fuck. They forgot to wake him up again. "I'll be off to do some experiments." the robot said. His joints began to lube up and he walked quicker until he started running into the biogenetics lab.
There, he took a microscope and began watching microbes do things. He looked at his chart and let out a robotic sigh. Simple experiments. The genius intellect of the the world's greatest mathematicians combines and he was forced to slave away like.. some.. sort.. of.. robot..? Well, he was a robot after all. His main experiment involved transferring the Cyclodomes to the Sientswords' petri dish. He lifted one up and brought it over to the other dish before dropping it. He then repeated that before dropping it again.
And again.
He promptly looked on the desk in the lab before grabbing a laser pistol and shooting the petri dishes, microscopes, and everything else in the room.
The ork's roar didn't bother him as he wandered out of the bio laboratory section. Another boring day.</s>
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<|message|>Amadeus Worthington
Amadeus' day began like any other average joe scientist's would. At around 5:00AM, his alarm clock went up to tell him that it was time to stop whimpering and aiming his multi-tool at the vent next to his bed, and get to his morning routine. He swung his legs out of bed, and plodded about his salvaged USG lifeboat evacuation pod wearing only his USG Crew Member sweater and his favorite (read: only) pair of clean briefs.
He approached the makeshift mirror he constructed from a medical drone and stolen rear view mirrors. The thing held the various pieces of reflective glass up with multiple extendible arms, some that creaked and retracted, others that fizzled and fell off. He checked his mask-adorned face and tousled his hair before giving out a vocoded sigh.
Then he pressed his CommLink's receiver button and 'Sweet Home Alabama' by Lynyrd Skynyrd started blasting through his helmet.
He jigged and jived as he brushed the front of his mask with a toothbrush, before proceeding to take out a disposable razor to try and get at that pesky 5 o'clock shadow on his breathing apparatus. In the shower, he howled out of tune to the song like a baboon in distress, taking care to get at all those creases and crannies on his mask with the loofah. Breakfast was easy, he thought as he uncapped a tube marked "Gud Gunk" and squeezed its entirety into the input port on his mask. The greenish brown gunk dribbled out from beneath and down onto his neck.
"Awwh cripes." He said as he moved back into his bathroom and gave his mouth a proper wash. Difficult but at least his breath, and mask, would smell minty fresh.
---
With that done and dusted, he stepped into the suit storage unit and let it dress him in his usual attire, EVA auxiliaries and all with a clean sweater and clean pants to match. He promptly exited his evacuation pod to the alley it had crashed in, just a few minutes walk from Mr. Phillips' (or as he liked to call him, Dr. Phil's) swanky laboratory. Amadeus entered and commenced his daily morning routine of checking on everyone in the building.
"Mornin', Dr. Phil!" Engrossed in his readings as always, such an inspiration. And one of Amadeus favorite scientific journals too. What a swell boss to work under.
"Mornin', Ms. Suya!" The roll of her eyes means that she's having a good morning. The distant look of longing and the sparkling flick of her rainbow hair meant that she was hungry or something. Amadeus would get her a bearclaw later.
"Mornin', Mr. McAllister!" He was always so chipper in the morning. Amadeus knew they shared a special bond. Especially with the all the nicknames they had for each other. Like how Amadeus would call him 'Mr. Mac' and he would call Amadeus 'bloody nuisance' and 'useless slime'.
Such a special bond.
"Mornin', Ms. O'Beirne!" He didn't have any scrap for her to chew on, but he'd find some soon enough. For now he could only offer some Jolly Ranchers. They were a pretty good substitute in his opinion.
"Mornin', HAT!" The triggerhappy bot put him on edge with that laser pistol, but it was great to see him all the same. He couldn't offer HAT a Jolly Rancher to he resolved to just saluting at him.
He finished the greetings by heading straight to the coffee machine and starting up a brew.
It was there that he was confronted with the massive form of his good buddy Worogoro, killing a whole pot of joe in one go. He was impressed, as always. His blaring rock music ensured he couldn't hear the terrifying roar that he made before, so his nerves were fine. He popped a pill and squeezed it beneath hs mask to be sure. Now was the time to socialise, his favorite part of his job.
"Well hey there, Mean and Green! I see your enjoying the brew to start the day! Y'know I really do favor that there double shot espresso, but I see you take yours black! I never could do that myself, far too bitter for too long. Quick and painless is how I work."
He tried his best to shuffle around the massive bulk of the Ork to get to the coffee machine, voice practically smiling for him in place of a face.</s>
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<|description|>Amadeus Worthington
Personality: Amadeus is a friendly kind of guy, even if he isn't the most formal or work-appropriate. He's always up for a conversation about the game last night, how the big corporations are watching everything we do, or how cool jazz is.
That is, when he isn't going through one of his flashback episodes to his time on the USG Jerusalem. The things he's seen are things that no man should have to experience, let alone reexperience. And so, to survive, he has learned to 'switch on' those same instincts that lead him through those perilous 2 years. Anything that moves becomes a threat, ripe for dismantling and stomping. But sometimes it turns on without his input.
At least he's on meds now.
History: When the rescue teams recovered him, Amadeus was a shivering pile of frayed nerves and rampant panic. The research station he was posted on, the USG Jerusalem, was only supposed to be a 6 week deal after all. So after drifting through space in a biological and mechanical hell of his own making for 2 years, it was understandable if he was shooting everything that moved and stamping it to paste and/or parts. It's just to be sure, after all. He has to be sure.
He is noted as being a fantastic researcher and test assistant. Partially due to his Doctorates in the fields of Robotics and Engineering and partially because of his tendency to survive drastic conditions despite all the odds against him. He'll go through hell and back for a friend, then the next day he'll be leaning over your workstation, asking how the wife and kids are.
Interesting Physical Traits: Always wears his internals, never removes his mask, several bionic and cybernetic implants such as a CommLink and and ID Chip.
Items: Atmospheric regulatory internals (oxygen, air filters, etc), EVA auxiliaries (boot jets, pressure regulation suit), several flavors of Jolly Rancher on hand at times and a refitted industrial multi-tool with functions altered to be more combat-ready.</s>
<|message|>Mari Suya
Mari Suya
Interacting with: @RomanAria
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Mari Suya was blaring My Chemical Romance to adjust to her daily emotions and also to ignore the chaos of the laboratory that was in motion just on the other side of her bedroom door (especially when someone was begging for her help - she was so compassionate, but why would she help them when nobody else did?) when she heard a tiny knock at the door. At first she believed that she had imagined it, but there was a voice along with it: "Mari? Are you awake yet, dear?"
It sounded like Eliana, the token. . fairy space woman(?) who also took up residence at this hell hole of a "laboratory". Mari knew Eliana and she also knew Argent, Philip, Maya, Denny, Worogoro, and all the others who were somehow affiliated with the laboratory as well, but there was always the question of her fondness of the individuals. For some reason, Mari often found that she got along with men more than women and it didn't had NOTHING to do with jealousy. She did like Eliana though. Or rather, she thought of Eliana as a friendly rival who was not as perfect as she was, but close.
"I'm awake," Mari shouted, getting up from the desk that was in her room only to head over to the door and find herself face-to-face with the miniature woman, "Did you need something?"</s>
<|message|>Margaret "Maya" O'Beirne
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Maya stared at the iron door, which she had to scramble away from to avoid ending up looking like a pancake, at her feet. She lifted her head to look at Worogoro, who looked just as confused as she did; and then the moment ended - both started scrambling about. Of course, Maya was trying to escape, and the ork was trying to keep her in. Before she could even reach the other end of the room, the iron door was back up, and Maya ran right into it with a loud clank!
Maya groaned, rubbing her head as she lifted herself from the floor, just in time for Worogoro's entrance:
"Lissen 'ere, you want da meetz den youz gotta annoy da big boss. Also, no eatin' me squig eitha!" Maya looked at the squig, rather unappetisingly; even she wouldn't touch that thing with a 10 foot pole. Unless of course, it was chewing on her leg, as it often would whenever Worogoro and Maya got into a scrap.
"But you're my big boss, Pickle," she cooed, almost flirtatiously, as she approached the giant ork. And much like a spidermonkey, Maya pounced onto the giant figure and scampered about in order to avoid being pulled back off. Worogoro wasn't in any real danger, because there was no way that Maya could actually tear into the little amount of face that he actually left exposed.
Instead, Maya was too busy looking for any trace of the steak that she'd spied earlier. Eventually, Maya stopped scampering around, instead decided to unleash her inner sloth and lock her arms and legs around Worogoro's large arm, her head by his armored hand. No matter how hard she was shaken, Maya didn't seem to care, in fact - she found it fun.</s>
<|message|>Worogoro
Worogoro
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"Iz not ya boss, ya zoggin' grot! Wait... akkualy, yes! Iz iz ya boss so listen ta me 'umie!" the ork bellowed as he stamped about, flailing his mechanical body as Maya preformed some excellent gymnastics on his large body, "N mahz not Pickles fo da last time! Gerrroff me!"
There was however, a certain fondless in the way the girl said how he was her big boss that rang in Worogoro's head. Not beacuse of how she said it but the fact she said it at all as all orks have the desire to become the biggest, greenest, meanest warboss. 'Bout time I got meself sun respek 'ere. Worogoro thought to himself as he attempted to shake the girl off as she hunted down his stake. In a desperate attempt to save the meat, the ork threw it at (literally) his pet squid who was sent back as the chunk of meat hit him in the face, "RUN MY SQUIG, RUN!"
Shaking the stars (and possible concussion) it had out of its head, the squig grabbed the meat and ran upstairs. It kept running up and up until it found its way into the office of big boss Phillips. In the mean while, its owner was still wrestling with the monkey attached to him. Worogoro shouted another great roar of anger as he shook the girl, once again shaking the building through sound waves alone.
Wretching the child off with his other hand, the ork threw her back into her padded room and went in, closing the door behind him (some how even though it physically wouldn't work under normal laws of logic) before he stomped ardoun the room in circles around the girl, never breaking eye contact, "I likez ya, rioght feisty 'un ya arr. Ya seem da most willin' to fioght so lemme make ya an offa; woo eva krumpz da otha first winz."</s>
<|message|>Eve Tyler
The walls covered in peeling paint had been charred by the many people who frequently caught on fire. An Eve starred at a burn mark, contemplating how to minimize the amount that would appear. She thought about applying chemicals that were resistant to fire, or setting up force field along the walls. Strangely, it did not occur to her, that she could immediately lessen the amount appearing by putting out one of the workers who had been running around screaming for quite some time now.
As the Eve starred intently at the wall, oblivious to everything else, the worker finally stopped screaming- because an old lady appeared out of nowhere and wacked him with a cane so hard he fell over. "The nerve of today's youth, when I was young we did things right. Yep WE never caught on fire."
She continued to lecture him while he slowly burned. Someone was finally kind enough to put him out when they were at the "In my days, anyone who was on fire was looked down" part of the speech. The Eve that had been staring at the wall finally looked up to see that the area had gotten a lot more damaged, and that an employee had had most his clothes burnt off, and was still giving off smoke.
As all that was going on, another Eve walked to overly complicated door that had an overpowered security system. She looked down at what appeared to be a pile of intertwined metals that wriggled about in her hands like she was reading off a screen. She knocked on the door and waited- for a long while. Assuming the door also had a camera to monitor the area, she spoke.
"Excuse me, a black whole is currently forming inside your room. Could you please let me inside to clean it?"</s>
<|message|>Adam Philip
Adam Philip
Adam sighed. He had been staring at the very first page of The Cat in The Hat for a while now, trying to decipher the illustrations that he was SURE held the secret to unraveling wormholes, and eventually, magnetic fields. No, Adam was so wrapped up in his "work" that he didn't notice his chair collapsing due to Argent's nanomachines or whatever they were, nor did he notice the giant roar that had come from their resident orc. No, Dr. Seuss was a doctor for a reason. His thesis on felines and tesseracts were truly sublime, and Adam was sure some of his other books held significance. Perhaps Oh The Places You'll Go was a map of the dimensional plane? No one could know for sure. His mind was an enigma that read entirely in rhyme. But we're getting off topic. He closed the "grand tome", got up from his spot on the floor, and walked over the bookcase. He scanned the many shelves, and found what he was looking for:
THE BUTTON
He sweat in a dramatic fashion. It was time. This would decide the fate of the company. He looked around, thought for a moment, and slammed down the piece of metal.
Attention All Employees. There Is A Meeting In The Board Room In 10 Minutes. Please Do Not Be Late.
These 19 words made dread grow in the hearts of all the workers. Meetings meant death in this company. The last meeting they had, half their work force was transported into space via a wormhole. The one before that, a nuke was launched on the ISS. (That had landed them in some hot water.) Adam sprinted down the hall, and jumped into the meeting room. It was time.
---
LARGE METAL DOOR
---
M E N A C I N G
---</s>
<|message|>Bobular the Miserable
Bobular
---
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. SQUEEG!
A squirming mass of putrid of unknown materials squeezed out of a pipe along 53rd street. The being wriggled with discomfort, as its orifices grotesquely oozed into place. That was much better. Well, not really. Bobular was still existing. Existence meant more pain and despair. Yesterday's plasma bomb testing had not killed Bobular. Time for another day.
Bobular's slimy wheat grass sludge created a trail down the alleyway as he dragged himself through the back way street. He moped through, past the dumpsters and stray cats which were eyeing him with intense fear and confusion.Pulling his wet body up the stairs to the back entrance, he heaved a heavy sigh. Bobular was not sure if he enjoyed going to this lab. He was not sure why he still even went. The slime oozed with dissatisfaction, then opened the door to the lab.
Bobular pitifully moved down the hall. His daily mope was interrupted when he heard a loud and brazen announcement echo through the laboratory.
Attention All Employees. There Is A Meeting In The Board Room In 10 Minutes. Please Do Not Be Late.
"Sigh… Time for another meeting…" What kind of torture err I mean spectacular scientific discoveries , awaited Bobular? He wandered into the meeting room, groaning with every step.</s>
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<|message|>Amadeus Worthington
The man in the soiled rigsuit chuckled as the small ball of fuzz that was Rex crawled out from beneath his legs to get at the coffee pot. He chuckled even harder as he found that the pot was missing, as was the usual morning routine.
"Awwww sorry there, Lil' Fuzz, Joe's on the go, courtesy of Mean and Green Worogoro! But don't worry, once he passes it, we'll be sippin' Joe and kickin' back in the midday sun, like al-"
Attention All Employees. There Is A Meeting In The Board Room In 10 Minutes. Please Do Not Be Late.
The blaring crackle of the ramshackle PA system flicked a switch in Amadeus' brain, because before the message had even finished, his multi-tool was drawn and switched to its modified welding torch flamethrower mode. Panicked hyperventilation crackled through his mask as he pointed it at each of the exits.
His rigsuit became only slightly soiled as he put the multi-tool away and told himself to take a deep breath. And by deep breath, he meant several anti-psychotics and a handful of what looked like Sleepytime tea leaves from one of his suit pouches.
Yeah... Tea leaves.
With his copious amount of barbiturates ingested, he shuffled his way to the meeting room, but not before pausing to stare at the-
LARGE METAL DOOR
It made his skin crawl to look at it. It reminded him of the maintenence hallway doors aboard the USG JERUSALEM. In the back of his memory, the screams of terror resonated as it stood there. Just...
M E N A C I N G</s>
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<|description|>Rex
Appearance: Clicky! Cute. Fuzzy. Small. Contains a surprisingly large amount of teeth. An orange tag in his ear has been half chewed off.
Interesting Physical Traits: Remarkably difficult to break. Hypoallergenic.
Personality: Alarmingly curious. If it is closed, it must be opened. If looks like food, it should be tasted. If it can be poked, prodded, nibbled, so it must be. Has a very loose and flexible understanding of what constitutes "personal space". Collects things that are interesting, although the criteria that defines whether or not something is "interesting" changes fairly often. Goes from fast asleep to frenzied and back again very quickly.
History:
"Thanks for turning up to my presentation, folks. Really appreciate it. Anyway, me and Bannon, we've been cooking up something special these past few months. Now, I know there's been set-backs, and costs too, but once you see what we've produced, you'll know it's worth the effort. The perfect pet for the coming winter holiday season! No allergic reactions, so little Timmy doesn't have to spend his Christmas morning sneezing and snuffling. Can survive a fall of seventy five yards, so Mom won't have to drive out to the store and buy a new one. Spliced some homing pigeon in there, so if little Timmy gets kidnapped while walking it, it'll come right back home. It's got rudimentary language skills, it can eat just about anything and the focus group we kidnapped responded well to the colour choice and the promise of a phone-call to their loved ones. Ladies, gentlemen, fellow colleagues and what appear to be members of an armed gang associated with a local animal rights organisation that are presently trying to kick down the door, I give you... the future of pets!"
- The final words of "Doctor" Higgins.
The product of an ill-conceived attempt to break into both the biological weapons and toy market a few years back, Rex is now all that remains of the project. Having survived the rigorous processes set out in the first edition of the Hazardous Materials Dispoal Manual ("Have you tried flushing it down the toilet? What about feeding it to the garbage disposal? Okay, um, just... leave it on the side of the road?"), courtesy of the resilience that would have surely made the project popular with distracted parents and dictators looking for super-soldiers alike, Rex was granted "Honorary Employee Status" as a test subject. Plus, somebody made him a little lab coat, and that's bloody adorable.
Items: A litte lab coat, with "Rex" stitched on to the pocket. A half chewed tag in his ear.</s>
<|message|>Argent McAllister
Argent McAllister
---
There he stood in his personal study, a room that had formerly been a community space, which he had taken over not by asking people to get out, or to allow it to him, but by adorning it with the most advanced security measures their world had to offer including, but not limited to a fingerprint pad, an eye scanner, a measuring scale, a DNA test, passcode, numeric lock, several advanced padlocks, a dial mechanism or five, voice verification, a bioengineered 'guard beast,' a specialized, adaptive personality and background test, a highly advanced virtual intelligence, and a quantum recognition system.
The only downside to the security measures was that it took him about 5-10 minutes to enter his study every single time, which while vexing, was worth the personal space, security, and isolation from the insular minds of his...decidedly less science-minded compatriots. He shuddered and then spat upon the ground, one of his drones cleaning up the mess .003 seconds after it had been made. Turning his attention away from his terrible employer and "fellow." employees, Argent McAllister walked across the room and then began interacting with a holographic keyboard, his fingers zooming over it with inhuman efficiency. Two seconds passed and there were eight paragraphs written on the display, which upon the finishing of the final sentence opened several windows. McAllister swapped between them, checking the status of various projects of his, some of them outsourced at other labs where he operated them remotely with a variety of highly advanced robots.
Pulling away he looked out the window and, judging by the angle of light entering the window, he could tell it was about time for him to--UGHHH--associate with the rest of the staff. Though, more importantly, for him to check up on the three ongoing experiments of his that he hadn't outsourced.
Walking to the door he punched a series of codes, setting the system up to monitor his location and status, as well as to notify him of any impending threats of possible breaches in security, not to mention status reports on his various projects. As he exited the room, he stopped for a moment to take stock of his belongings before glancing almost longingly back at his study before the door was closed.
Once he'd gotten a good look of its comforting aesthetic he turned his eyes away and snapped his fingers. In response, all of his security measures slipped into place, the guard beast rising out from the floor, where it was held in place by several stasis beams a cage, and a series of chains.
Moving on Argent went downstairs to the first floor, the sound of the disgusting ork's roar reaching him easily. Seconds before it occured his ears were covered by what looked like headphones while he braced himself on the stairs. When the tremors had passed he continued down and then through the hall, seeking out their joke of a boss 'Adam Philip'. Finding him reading a fucking doctor seuss book, at which Argent scoffed with great derision, the scientist cleared his throat loudly to get the man's attention, before he spoke.
Once he had the man's attention he began, "Why aren't you in the lab working on the experiments or looking over data here?" While it was a question, it almost sounded like the arrogant Argent was trying to order Philip to do those very things. He glanced around the room, his normal--almost permanently--scowl forming on his features as he did. He snapped his fingers twice, then tapped his wristband. In response several hundred minuscule nanobots erupted from the cracks in the walls and floors and got started with cleaning the place up and organizing things properly.
He did this...EVERY FUCKING DAY when Philip arrived. It was ludicrous, he was NOT a janitor, but nonetheless he could not STAND how the place looked...let alone smelled after a day's work. "Furthermore, why are you reading Dr. Seuss of all things?! It is a child's book and you are certainly NOT a child, Mr. Philip," as he said the man's name, he glared at him, clearly perturbed to find his "boss" slacking off yet-a-fucking-gain. He was at the end of his rope with the man, and it showed.
It was particularly apparent when he accidentally--and subconsciously--commanded some of the nanobots to deconstruct one of the legs of Adam's chair. AFter all, the nanobots were, first and foremost, linked to Argent's consciousness.</s>
<|message|>H.A.T v1 but he's known to his colleagues as HAT. It stands for Human Augmentation Technology version 1.0.
The robot "woke up" so-to-speak. In the corner of the room, his blue "eye" lit up and he slowly walked towards Adam. Fuck. They forgot to wake him up again. "I'll be off to do some experiments." the robot said. His joints began to lube up and he walked quicker until he started running into the biogenetics lab.
There, he took a microscope and began watching microbes do things. He looked at his chart and let out a robotic sigh. Simple experiments. The genius intellect of the the world's greatest mathematicians combines and he was forced to slave away like.. some.. sort.. of.. robot..? Well, he was a robot after all. His main experiment involved transferring the Cyclodomes to the Sientswords' petri dish. He lifted one up and brought it over to the other dish before dropping it. He then repeated that before dropping it again.
And again.
He promptly looked on the desk in the lab before grabbing a laser pistol and shooting the petri dishes, microscopes, and everything else in the room.
The ork's roar didn't bother him as he wandered out of the bio laboratory section. Another boring day.</s>
<|message|>Amadeus Worthington
Amadeus Worthington!
---
---
Amadeus' day began like any other average joe scientist's would. At around 5:00AM, his alarm clock went up to tell him that it was time to stop whimpering and aiming his multi-tool at the vent next to his bed, and get to his morning routine. He swung his legs out of bed, and plodded about his salvaged USG lifeboat evacuation pod wearing only his USG Crew Member sweater and his favorite (read: only) pair of clean briefs.
He approached the makeshift mirror he constructed from a medical drone and stolen rear view mirrors. The thing held the various pieces of reflective glass up with multiple extendible arms, some that creaked and retracted, others that fizzled and fell off. He checked his mask-adorned face and tousled his hair before giving out a vocoded sigh.
Then he pressed his CommLink's receiver button and 'Sweet Home Alabama' by Lynyrd Skynyrd started blasting through his helmet.
He jigged and jived as he brushed the front of his mask with a toothbrush, before proceeding to take out a disposable razor to try and get at that pesky 5 o'clock shadow on his breathing apparatus. In the shower, he howled out of tune to the song like a baboon in distress, taking care to get at all those creases and crannies on his mask with the loofah. Breakfast was easy, he thought as he uncapped a tube marked "Gud Gunk" and squeezed its entirety into the input port on his mask. The greenish brown gunk dribbled out from beneath and down onto his neck.
"Awwh cripes." He said as he moved back into his bathroom and gave his mouth a proper wash. Difficult but at least his breath, and mask, would smell minty fresh.
---
With that done and dusted, he stepped into the suit storage unit and let it dress him in his usual attire, EVA auxiliaries and all with a clean sweater and clean pants to match. He promptly exited his evacuation pod to the alley it had crashed in, just a few minutes walk from Mr. Phillips' (or as he liked to call him, Dr. Phil's) swanky laboratory. Amadeus entered and commenced his daily morning routine of checking on everyone in the building.
"Mornin', Dr. Phil!" Engrossed in his readings as always, such an inspiration. And one of Amadeus favorite scientific journals too. What a swell boss to work under.
"Mornin', Ms. Suya!" The roll of her eyes means that she's having a good morning. The distant look of longing and the sparkling flick of her rainbow hair meant that she was hungry or something. Amadeus would get her a bearclaw later.
"Mornin', Mr. McAllister!" He was always so chipper in the morning. Amadeus knew they shared a special bond. Especially with the all the nicknames they had for each other. Like how Amadeus would call him 'Mr. Mac' and he would call Amadeus 'bloody nuisance' and 'useless slime'.
Such a special bond.
"Mornin', Ms. O'Beirne!" He didn't have any scrap for her to chew on, but he'd find some soon enough. For now he could only offer some Jolly Ranchers. They were a pretty good substitute in his opinion.
"Mornin', HAT!" The triggerhappy bot put him on edge with that laser pistol, but it was great to see him all the same. He couldn't offer HAT a Jolly Rancher to he resolved to just saluting at him.
He finished the greetings by heading straight to the coffee machine and starting up a brew.
It was there that he was confronted with the massive form of his good buddy Worogoro, killing a whole pot of joe in one go. He was impressed, as always. His blaring rock music ensured he couldn't hear the terrifying roar that he made before, so his nerves were fine. He popped a pill and squeezed it beneath hs mask to be sure. Now was the time to socialise, his favorite part of his job.
"Well hey there, Mean and Green! I see your enjoying the brew to start the day! Y'know I really do favor that there double shot espresso, but I see you take yours black! I never could do that myself, far too bitter for too long. Quick and painless is how I work."
He tried his best to shuffle around the massive bulk of the Ork to get to the coffee machine, voice practically smiling for him in place of a face.</s>
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<|message|>Rex
Rex had a system for surviving the morning rush, and the accquistion of something approximating a healthy breakfast for whatever he was, and this morning was much like any other. It began with carefully perching upon a coat stand that had long since given up it's career as a place for coats and hats to pursue it's lifelong dream of gathering dust. It remained near enough to the entrance to suit Rex's purposes, a perch from which he could wait for Amadeus to make his entrance. More or less right on time, Amadeus passed by, and Rex leapt to the ground, following along in his footsteps on all fours. With his ears perked up, his nose to the ground, and his eyes focused on his feet, Rex wove a meandering path behind Amadeus.
Then, on the final approach to the coffee machine, he made his move. Scrambling rather ungracefully out from behind Amadeus, he made his way up onto the table that held the miraculous machine that provided the bitter brown stuff that he had developed something of a craving for. After only one failed attempt to clamber up the table leg and on to the tabletop proper, he sat and stared at where the pot would be - should be! - were it not for the big, green coffee stealing machne that was Worogoro.
Rex stared despondently at the coffee machine, sans pot.
"Why? Coffee?"
The coffee machine, unsurprisingly, did not answer back.</s>
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<|description|>Rex
Appearance: Clicky! Cute. Fuzzy. Small. Contains a surprisingly large amount of teeth. An orange tag in his ear has been half chewed off.
Interesting Physical Traits: Remarkably difficult to break. Hypoallergenic.
Personality: Alarmingly curious. If it is closed, it must be opened. If looks like food, it should be tasted. If it can be poked, prodded, nibbled, so it must be. Has a very loose and flexible understanding of what constitutes "personal space". Collects things that are interesting, although the criteria that defines whether or not something is "interesting" changes fairly often. Goes from fast asleep to frenzied and back again very quickly.
History:
"Thanks for turning up to my presentation, folks. Really appreciate it. Anyway, me and Bannon, we've been cooking up something special these past few months. Now, I know there's been set-backs, and costs too, but once you see what we've produced, you'll know it's worth the effort. The perfect pet for the coming winter holiday season! No allergic reactions, so little Timmy doesn't have to spend his Christmas morning sneezing and snuffling. Can survive a fall of seventy five yards, so Mom won't have to drive out to the store and buy a new one. Spliced some homing pigeon in there, so if little Timmy gets kidnapped while walking it, it'll come right back home. It's got rudimentary language skills, it can eat just about anything and the focus group we kidnapped responded well to the colour choice and the promise of a phone-call to their loved ones. Ladies, gentlemen, fellow colleagues and what appear to be members of an armed gang associated with a local animal rights organisation that are presently trying to kick down the door, I give you... the future of pets!"
- The final words of "Doctor" Higgins.
The product of an ill-conceived attempt to break into both the biological weapons and toy market a few years back, Rex is now all that remains of the project. Having survived the rigorous processes set out in the first edition of the Hazardous Materials Dispoal Manual ("Have you tried flushing it down the toilet? What about feeding it to the garbage disposal? Okay, um, just... leave it on the side of the road?"), courtesy of the resilience that would have surely made the project popular with distracted parents and dictators looking for super-soldiers alike, Rex was granted "Honorary Employee Status" as a test subject. Plus, somebody made him a little lab coat, and that's bloody adorable.
Items: A litte lab coat, with "Rex" stitched on to the pocket. A half chewed tag in his ear.</s>
<|message|>Worogoro
Worogoro
---
---
"Iz not ya boss, ya zoggin' grot! Wait... akkualy, yes! Iz iz ya boss so listen ta me 'umie!" the ork bellowed as he stamped about, flailing his mechanical body as Maya preformed some excellent gymnastics on his large body, "N mahz not Pickles fo da last time! Gerrroff me!"
There was however, a certain fondless in the way the girl said how he was her big boss that rang in Worogoro's head. Not beacuse of how she said it but the fact she said it at all as all orks have the desire to become the biggest, greenest, meanest warboss. 'Bout time I got meself sun respek 'ere. Worogoro thought to himself as he attempted to shake the girl off as she hunted down his stake. In a desperate attempt to save the meat, the ork threw it at (literally) his pet squid who was sent back as the chunk of meat hit him in the face, "RUN MY SQUIG, RUN!"
Shaking the stars (and possible concussion) it had out of its head, the squig grabbed the meat and ran upstairs. It kept running up and up until it found its way into the office of big boss Phillips. In the mean while, its owner was still wrestling with the monkey attached to him. Worogoro shouted another great roar of anger as he shook the girl, once again shaking the building through sound waves alone.
Wretching the child off with his other hand, the ork threw her back into her padded room and went in, closing the door behind him (some how even though it physically wouldn't work under normal laws of logic) before he stomped ardoun the room in circles around the girl, never breaking eye contact, "I likez ya, rioght feisty 'un ya arr. Ya seem da most willin' to fioght so lemme make ya an offa; woo eva krumpz da otha first winz."</s>
<|message|>Eve Tyler
The walls covered in peeling paint had been charred by the many people who frequently caught on fire. An Eve starred at a burn mark, contemplating how to minimize the amount that would appear. She thought about applying chemicals that were resistant to fire, or setting up force field along the walls. Strangely, it did not occur to her, that she could immediately lessen the amount appearing by putting out one of the workers who had been running around screaming for quite some time now.
As the Eve starred intently at the wall, oblivious to everything else, the worker finally stopped screaming- because an old lady appeared out of nowhere and wacked him with a cane so hard he fell over. "The nerve of today's youth, when I was young we did things right. Yep WE never caught on fire."
She continued to lecture him while he slowly burned. Someone was finally kind enough to put him out when they were at the "In my days, anyone who was on fire was looked down" part of the speech. The Eve that had been staring at the wall finally looked up to see that the area had gotten a lot more damaged, and that an employee had had most his clothes burnt off, and was still giving off smoke.
As all that was going on, another Eve walked to overly complicated door that had an overpowered security system. She looked down at what appeared to be a pile of intertwined metals that wriggled about in her hands like she was reading off a screen. She knocked on the door and waited- for a long while. Assuming the door also had a camera to monitor the area, she spoke.
"Excuse me, a black whole is currently forming inside your room. Could you please let me inside to clean it?"</s>
<|message|>Adam Philip
Adam Philip
Adam sighed. He had been staring at the very first page of The Cat in The Hat for a while now, trying to decipher the illustrations that he was SURE held the secret to unraveling wormholes, and eventually, magnetic fields. No, Adam was so wrapped up in his "work" that he didn't notice his chair collapsing due to Argent's nanomachines or whatever they were, nor did he notice the giant roar that had come from their resident orc. No, Dr. Seuss was a doctor for a reason. His thesis on felines and tesseracts were truly sublime, and Adam was sure some of his other books held significance. Perhaps Oh The Places You'll Go was a map of the dimensional plane? No one could know for sure. His mind was an enigma that read entirely in rhyme. But we're getting off topic. He closed the "grand tome", got up from his spot on the floor, and walked over the bookcase. He scanned the many shelves, and found what he was looking for:
THE BUTTON
He sweat in a dramatic fashion. It was time. This would decide the fate of the company. He looked around, thought for a moment, and slammed down the piece of metal.
Attention All Employees. There Is A Meeting In The Board Room In 10 Minutes. Please Do Not Be Late.
These 19 words made dread grow in the hearts of all the workers. Meetings meant death in this company. The last meeting they had, half their work force was transported into space via a wormhole. The one before that, a nuke was launched on the ISS. (That had landed them in some hot water.) Adam sprinted down the hall, and jumped into the meeting room. It was time.
---
LARGE METAL DOOR
---
M E N A C I N G
---</s>
<|message|>Bobular the Miserable
Bobular
---
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. SQUEEG!
A squirming mass of putrid of unknown materials squeezed out of a pipe along 53rd street. The being wriggled with discomfort, as its orifices grotesquely oozed into place. That was much better. Well, not really. Bobular was still existing. Existence meant more pain and despair. Yesterday's plasma bomb testing had not killed Bobular. Time for another day.
Bobular's slimy wheat grass sludge created a trail down the alleyway as he dragged himself through the back way street. He moped through, past the dumpsters and stray cats which were eyeing him with intense fear and confusion.Pulling his wet body up the stairs to the back entrance, he heaved a heavy sigh. Bobular was not sure if he enjoyed going to this lab. He was not sure why he still even went. The slime oozed with dissatisfaction, then opened the door to the lab.
Bobular pitifully moved down the hall. His daily mope was interrupted when he heard a loud and brazen announcement echo through the laboratory.
Attention All Employees. There Is A Meeting In The Board Room In 10 Minutes. Please Do Not Be Late.
"Sigh… Time for another meeting…" What kind of torture err I mean spectacular scientific discoveries , awaited Bobular? He wandered into the meeting room, groaning with every step.</s>
<|message|>Amadeus Worthington
Amadeus Worthington!
---
---
The man in the soiled rigsuit chuckled as the small ball of fuzz that was Rex crawled out from beneath his legs to get at the coffee pot. He chuckled even harder as he found that the pot was missing, as was the usual morning routine.
"Awwww sorry there, Lil' Fuzz, Joe's on the go, courtesy of Mean and Green Worogoro! But don't worry, once he passes it, we'll be sippin' Joe and kickin' back in the midday sun, like al-"
Attention All Employees. There Is A Meeting In The Board Room In 10 Minutes. Please Do Not Be Late.
The blaring crackle of the ramshackle PA system flicked a switch in Amadeus' brain, because before the message had even finished, his multi-tool was drawn and switched to its modified welding torch flamethrower mode. Panicked hyperventilation crackled through his mask as he pointed it at each of the exits.
His rigsuit became only slightly soiled as he put the multi-tool away and told himself to take a deep breath. And by deep breath, he meant several anti-psychotics and a handful of what looked like Sleepytime tea leaves from one of his suit pouches.
Yeah... Tea leaves.
With his copious amount of barbiturates ingested, he shuffled his way to the meeting room, but not before pausing to stare at the-
LARGE METAL DOOR
It made his skin crawl to look at it. It reminded him of the maintenence hallway doors aboard the USG JERUSALEM. In the back of his memory, the screams of terror resonated as it stood there. Just...
M E N A C I N G</s>
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<|message|>Rex
"Like always," Rex began to repeat after Amadeus. Up until that point, he was confident that while there wouldn't be any coffee available until midday, it was going to be Just Another Day of doing very little indeed, punctuated only by brief naps in the sun and the occasional caffeine-fuelled burst of hyperactivity. However, as the speaker system crackled into life to deliver a fateful message about a meeting - a word that Rex had yet to fully grasp the meaning of, but had discovered that it functioned something like a curse word - his ears pricked up and, a moment later, he was seeking shelter behind the coffee machine.
For once, the word meeting did not immediately lead to explosions, the unexpected formation of anomalous time zones or their subsequent cataclysmic collapse, nor those people with the strange suits that covered their whole bodies bursting in through the windows. Peering out from behind the relatively little safety afforded by the coffee machine, Rex watched Amadeus eat something, and wander off.
After giving the room one last look over, Rex darted, not for the door, but towards the wall. Then, up the wall, his claws extended and ripping yet another set of tears into the faded floral wallpaper. Within seconds, Rex was into the vents. With one last angry stare at the coffee machine, Rex disappeared. Numerous symbols and drawings were scratched into the inside of the vents, helpfully mapping out which vent led where, along with a series of ever larger pictures of teeth to warn about getting too close to Maya's cell. Taking an up, a left, a down, a right, another right, a sort of up and a left, and then a left again, Rex arrived at the Board Room Vent.
Ever so carefully, Rex pushed at the covering and peered at the floor of the Board Room. The last time he had visited the Board Room, there wasn't even a discernible floor, just a sticky mat of thick black goo, the result of an interview process gone horribly wrong. Or horribly right, it was hard to tell. Either way, satisfied that the floor posed little to no threat, Rex levered open the metal grill covering the vent and proceeded to drop down to the floor.
Or, that was the plan; the grill snapping shut behind him caught the hem of his laboratory coat and, rather than hitting the floor, he instead just hung there, upside-down, suspended from the ceiling by his little lab coat. At least, from here, he could actually watch the meeting unfold, and didn't risk being trod underfoot.</s>
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<|description|>Eve Tyler
Age:
Whenever a clone is created, the age of said clone can be decided, issues can happen when the clone is created above the age of forty. The original is sixty years old.
Appearance:
Though their hair is actually dull green.
Personalities:
They seem pretty sane, but this is compared to everyone else in the building. A little too trusting though intelligent, and lack common sense. Their stories are rather boring, and their social skills are almost nonexistent. The only one who has a very different personality besides the original is one called 'Old Eve'.
Name: 'Old Eve'
age:?
appearance:
she looks like an eighty year old version of any of the Eves.
personality:
She demands that others respect her as a "fragile old lady", though she is anything but that. She can zoom about the place at inhuman speeds, and wack thing with surprising strength using her cane. She likes insulting the youth of today, and gossiping, as well as belittling other peoples lifestyles. Unlike all the other Eves, she is not very intelligent. Actually she's to the point of being kinda dumb.
History:
They tried to make a ninety year old Eve for an experiment that needed some one of an older age group, but the incubator was not made to make older clones, and the result was a freak of nature. The Eve was used in the experiment, and surprisingly survived. After this, she became a freeloader in the building. People naturally didn't like her personality, so they would perform "experiments" which very thinly hide that they were just attempts to kill her. After that didn't work they actually did research based on the question, "can 'Old Eve' die".
History:
The original Eve Tyler has intelligence to match Argent McAllister, and is prominent in the history of scientific discovery. She specializes in biology, but has made breakthroughs in other branches of science. She is famous for her advances in cloning, allowing clones to live as long as non-clones, if not longer.
The clones were first intended to help her with her research, but as they were just as intelligent as her, they did their own thing and were making scientific discoveries as fast as she was. Being narcissistic, and having always thought herself the best, she did not take well to her knew competition. She modified the template that was based on her DNA and neural engrams, so that they would become "Less charismatic" versions of her. These were great at doing the job of assisting, and continued to serve her until she went into retirement at the age of 55.
She then donated most of her clones and the incubator to 'Adam Philip's Totally Legit Laboratory for the Science' as it was her starting place (and they really needed the help). The clones are mostly used more as tools then people, and have a wide verity of uses. They rarely start their own projects, and when they do, it's almost always something to restore the building (this usually ends up destroying the whole building, or large portions of it, but they somehow manage to return the building to its previous state, if not with a new scar, rather quickly, and in a way that leaves people wondering how it was done). Their main job is assisting the other scientists with research (even though they are actually more intelligent than half of them), and doing most of the maintenance jobs. They are commonly used as test subjects and have a high mortality rate (except 'Old Eve' who is almost as unkillable as Rex).
Eve Tyler created a multi purpose tool with the name Eve Tyler, it is usefull for cleaning, assiting reasearch, and preforming experiments on.
Interesting Physical Traits:
Large glasses. And the fact it's a group of clones is pretty interesting.
Items:
they all have a device that can do an untold number of things, for example, clean up the miniature black holes that sometimes pop up, fix frayed ends of time lines, and restore the building when it's destroyed.
Other characters are free to use them as much, and for whatever they want.</s>
<|message|>Grand Duchess Eliana Elatir, IMIA (Imperial Minister of Intergalactic Affairs), SDMI (Supreme Doctor of Medical Intervention)
Eliana Elatir
interacting with Mari @cynder
Eliana yawned, stretching her arms up over her head and blinking her eyes open. She sat up, stretching again, and easing out of her luxurious bed that was made out of a matchbox lined with beanbags and cotton balls and soft cloths. She padded across the smooth desk, fumbling for the switch that turned on the strings of Christmas lights that ran along the ceiling of her cardboard box suite. Standing before the tin-foil mirror, she ran a pink plastic hairbrush (that looked suspiciously like a Barbie doll's) through her fiber-optic locks. She slipped into her standard attire, fitted blue dress and somewhat sheer white lab coat with a monogrammed "E" on it. She settled her silver circlet (that marked her role as Grand Duchess) onto her head, and threaded her wings through the slits in the back of her clothes, fluttering a few times to get the circulation to them going.
She opened the small swinging doors that split her boxy home in two. She turned on the tiny ultraviolet lamp, sighing in relief as her wings trembled, drawing in the energy. When she had enough to get through the morning, she switched the light back to the normal and roused Aeona. The sleepy puffsprite yawned, leaping at Eliana and clinging to her, all six limbs wrapped around her torso. "We go work?" The little creature chirped, running its antennae over Eliana's face, draping its fluffs over her head and shoulders.
"Yes, Aeona, we're going to work."
"Yay! I play with Mickey and Minnie!" The puffsprite flailed some of its fluffs and its antennae. Mickey and Minnie were the lab mice that were being used to test the effect of the neurotoxin. "Wait, do I get to eats them?"
"Yes, yes.-- wait, no! I mean yes, you get to play with them, but no, you don't get to eat them yet. If you ask nicely Woro might give you a bite of steak."
"But steak is icky when cooked. I like juicy."
Eliana laughed, bouncing the puffsprite on her hip and causing it to say "wheee!"
The Grand Duchess exited her box, fluttering up into what was the lab's breakroom. The others here had been kind enough to give her a cardboard box that rested in the corner, behind the counter. She stretched again, straightening her lab coat, and then exited the break room through the mail slot. She flew straight to the lab, grinning as Aeona detached from around her waist and fell in slow-motion, its fluffs spinning around her, into the mouse cage. The mice flinched away from the small puffsprite, which wobbled over to them anyway and clung to one of them. Eliana giggled, turning to leave - Aeona would take care of itself.
She flew to the bedroom of Mari Suya and tapped on the doorframe. "Mari? Are you awake yet, dear?"</s>
<|message|>Mari Suya
Mari Suya
Interacting with: @RomanAria
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---
Mari Suya was blaring My Chemical Romance to adjust to her daily emotions and also to ignore the chaos of the laboratory that was in motion just on the other side of her bedroom door (especially when someone was begging for her help - she was so compassionate, but why would she help them when nobody else did?) when she heard a tiny knock at the door. At first she believed that she had imagined it, but there was a voice along with it: "Mari? Are you awake yet, dear?"
It sounded like Eliana, the token. . fairy space woman(?) who also took up residence at this hell hole of a "laboratory". Mari knew Eliana and she also knew Argent, Philip, Maya, Denny, Worogoro, and all the others who were somehow affiliated with the laboratory as well, but there was always the question of her fondness of the individuals. For some reason, Mari often found that she got along with men more than women and it didn't had NOTHING to do with jealousy. She did like Eliana though. Or rather, she thought of Eliana as a friendly rival who was not as perfect as she was, but close.
"I'm awake," Mari shouted, getting up from the desk that was in her room only to head over to the door and find herself face-to-face with the miniature woman, "Did you need something?"</s>
<|message|>Margaret "Maya" O'Beirne
---
Maya stared at the iron door, which she had to scramble away from to avoid ending up looking like a pancake, at her feet. She lifted her head to look at Worogoro, who looked just as confused as she did; and then the moment ended - both started scrambling about. Of course, Maya was trying to escape, and the ork was trying to keep her in. Before she could even reach the other end of the room, the iron door was back up, and Maya ran right into it with a loud clank!
Maya groaned, rubbing her head as she lifted herself from the floor, just in time for Worogoro's entrance:
"Lissen 'ere, you want da meetz den youz gotta annoy da big boss. Also, no eatin' me squig eitha!" Maya looked at the squig, rather unappetisingly; even she wouldn't touch that thing with a 10 foot pole. Unless of course, it was chewing on her leg, as it often would whenever Worogoro and Maya got into a scrap.
"But you're my big boss, Pickle," she cooed, almost flirtatiously, as she approached the giant ork. And much like a spidermonkey, Maya pounced onto the giant figure and scampered about in order to avoid being pulled back off. Worogoro wasn't in any real danger, because there was no way that Maya could actually tear into the little amount of face that he actually left exposed.
Instead, Maya was too busy looking for any trace of the steak that she'd spied earlier. Eventually, Maya stopped scampering around, instead decided to unleash her inner sloth and lock her arms and legs around Worogoro's large arm, her head by his armored hand. No matter how hard she was shaken, Maya didn't seem to care, in fact - she found it fun.</s>
<|message|>Worogoro
Worogoro
---
---
"Iz not ya boss, ya zoggin' grot! Wait... akkualy, yes! Iz iz ya boss so listen ta me 'umie!" the ork bellowed as he stamped about, flailing his mechanical body as Maya preformed some excellent gymnastics on his large body, "N mahz not Pickles fo da last time! Gerrroff me!"
There was however, a certain fondless in the way the girl said how he was her big boss that rang in Worogoro's head. Not beacuse of how she said it but the fact she said it at all as all orks have the desire to become the biggest, greenest, meanest warboss. 'Bout time I got meself sun respek 'ere. Worogoro thought to himself as he attempted to shake the girl off as she hunted down his stake. In a desperate attempt to save the meat, the ork threw it at (literally) his pet squid who was sent back as the chunk of meat hit him in the face, "RUN MY SQUIG, RUN!"
Shaking the stars (and possible concussion) it had out of its head, the squig grabbed the meat and ran upstairs. It kept running up and up until it found its way into the office of big boss Phillips. In the mean while, its owner was still wrestling with the monkey attached to him. Worogoro shouted another great roar of anger as he shook the girl, once again shaking the building through sound waves alone.
Wretching the child off with his other hand, the ork threw her back into her padded room and went in, closing the door behind him (some how even though it physically wouldn't work under normal laws of logic) before he stomped ardoun the room in circles around the girl, never breaking eye contact, "I likez ya, rioght feisty 'un ya arr. Ya seem da most willin' to fioght so lemme make ya an offa; woo eva krumpz da otha first winz."</s>
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<|message|>Eve Tyler
The walls covered in peeling paint had been charred by the many people who frequently caught on fire. An Eve starred at a burn mark, contemplating how to minimize the amount that would appear. She thought about applying chemicals that were resistant to fire, or setting up force field along the walls. Strangely, it did not occur to her, that she could immediately lessen the amount appearing by putting out one of the workers who had been running around screaming for quite some time now.
As the Eve starred intently at the wall, oblivious to everything else, the worker finally stopped screaming- because an old lady appeared out of nowhere and wacked him with a cane so hard he fell over. "The nerve of today's youth, when I was young we did things right. Yep WE never caught on fire."
She continued to lecture him while he slowly burned. Someone was finally kind enough to put him out when they were at the "In my days, anyone who was on fire was looked down" part of the speech. The Eve that had been staring at the wall finally looked up to see that the area had gotten a lot more damaged, and that an employee had had most his clothes burnt off, and was still giving off smoke.
As all that was going on, another Eve walked to overly complicated door that had an overpowered security system. She looked down at what appeared to be a pile of intertwined metals that wriggled about in her hands like she was reading off a screen. She knocked on the door and waited- for a long while. Assuming the door also had a camera to monitor the area, she spoke.
"Excuse me, a black whole is currently forming inside your room. Could you please let me inside to clean it?"</s>
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<|description|>Age
21
Gender
Female
Sin
Gluttony
Fears
Pretty much everything, but her top 3 is:
* Thunder and extremely loud noises
* Things with scary faces
* Ghosts
Biography
Louise is an aspiring writer, and has already finished writing a novel, but it has not yet been published.
Louise is rather quiet and shy, and is the baby of the group, as she honestly acts like one from time to time. Louise is timid and afraid of pretty much everything, and has earned her title of "scaredy cat". The only reason she agreed to come along was so she could get more ideas for her new book.</s>
<|message|>Phil Douglas
@Spinosaurus@FallenTrinity@DJRaVeS@Arkaotic@Emuxe
To his utter surprise, Phill landed gracefully instead of splattering. He sprang into a triple somersault and landed on one foot, perfectly balanced. He hardly had time to consider that shit now though. He was in hell, and there were demons everywhere. Well, that had escalated quickly. Phil looked down at his body, gasping. He had become a total babe! In fact, he knew this bod. It belonged to Louise! Suddenly, a colossal demon charged at him from out of the horde, swinging a sword the size of a bus at him. With a shrill, girly scream, Phil turned invisible and leapt out of the way. The sword smashed a deep furrow in the ground, sinking into the charred rock up to the hilt. Damn. Phil scrambled to the beast's side, glancing down at his body again and wheezing with shock.
"I can turn invisible too!? Sweet diabeetus, I'm like that naked blue chick from X-Men! Okay... Let's try THIS!! RAAWWR!"
Phil became visible again, and by the time the colossal demon had noticed him it was too late. Phil had grown into a near perfect imitation of the colossal demon in under a second, his black rod growing in size with him. The only physical difference between the two was that Demon-Phil still bore his derpy beard and stained wifebeater. You know, so that his allies wouldn't accidently attack him. The colossal demon swung its burning whip at Phil, roaring loud enough to make the ground judder. Phil turned invisible again, and the whip hit nothing. The colossal demon spun around, swiping wildly and with much more speed than a creature of such size should have been able to.
"N E R D R A G E!!"
Screaming out his attack, Phil brought the brunt of his giant iron staff crashing down onto the colossal demon's skull from behind. The beast was driven to its knees with earth shaking force, and before it could recover the staff then careened into the side of its skull with a resounding CRACK. Despite weighing hundreds of tons, the colossal demon tumbled head over heels before skidding to a stop, countless lesser demons having been crushed in the wake of its body.
Phil turned off his invisibility and darted after the colossal demon, in moments planting his feet on either side of its head. The beast could only stare up in abject horror, too wounded from the blows to its head to move. It knew what was coming, and could do nothing to stop it.
"T E A B A G!!"
Phil finished off the colossal demon by dropping all of his enormous weigh onto its face, his house-sized crotch leaving a bloody crater where its head had been.</s>
<|message|>Jacob "Jake" Saunders.
Jake Saunders
Jake continued fighting. Ramming into demons. Bludgeoning. Using his head, he rammed another one off of the ledge. His gauntlets began to burn. Bad. Searing pain. Most oddly, they turned black. Red liquid could be seen flowing through some cracks in them. And then they began to cover his body. Turning into some sort of armor. A black, obsidian-like stone began to cover him from head to toe. It finally finished.
He noticed his friends fighting. The transformation of Sabastian was terrifying, he didn't seem himself. Everybody yelling, fighting, and the commotion took him off of that and pointed his direction towards the horde.
The one on the FAR left. From runescape. Great game. All credit to Jagex, the company who made it. I reccomend checking it out.
Slowly, he faded out of consciousness. His body was fighting but his soul was elsewhere.
"Acedia. You have made a terrible mistake. Thank you," A voice said as Jake heard a guttural laugh. He was in a dark room with nothing else. His body wasn't there, but he could see everything inside of it. "I am the protector. I am the general. I am the one who was made to keep the others at bay. We've been IMPRISONED. SHACKLED. MOCKED." it continued, "Lucifer believes that he can forget about us. Pretend that we don't exist. Sending comrades to Earth. We are nothing. This is a new beginning. You are the victim. I am Sloth." The voice sent chills down his spine. "Sloth? W-who are you? WHO ARE YOU!?" he said as he regained consciousness. In his new suit of armor, he'd easily destroyed several more while listening to Sloth. Sloth. What an interesting name. And who's acedia? Obviously not me, Jake thought to himself. Just then, the doors at the huge structure in the front began to open. They extended to the top and were made out of stone. A large beast stepped out. It was the height of the building itself. With every step it took the ground shook. More demons began pouring out.
Take away the technological parts in your iMaGiNaTiOn
He fought. People were still crying, transforming, and yelling. The beast let out a mighty roar.
It took a step forward.
@Emuxe@Doc Doctor@Arkaotic@DJRaVeS@Vashonn</s>
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<|message|>Age
Even with Alexander's assistance, Louise was proven unable to pull Isabel from her panic attack. "We need to find somewhere safe. If she won't move, I'll carry her," Alexander spoke in an oddly cool demeanour - They were thrown into the middle of the Black Friday of Hell, and Alexander was calm?! Louise supposed she could admire him for that, at least - No matter what, Alexander was always the cool and collected one; although she found him intimidating, she did have to admit, Alexander always was kind of like an emotional anchor.
"Those creatures look appetising don't you think?" he finished, snapping Louise back to attention; her face fell into a look of disgust, thinking that he was giving her shit for the bat incident. Louise averted her gaze from Isabel, only so she could scold the man for teasing her. "I don't know what you're talking abou-" Louise started off good, but had inadvertintely trailed off, as upon setting eye on a demon to the rear of the trio, that intense feeling of hunger came to the girl again.
Oh hell no, she internally screamed at herself, don't you even think about i-. Louise's body ignored her thoughts, and it was as if her fight or flight response had kicked in - though in such a situation, it would have been understood, but not in the way her body handled it; much like a frog, she'd shifted from her crouch and launched herself in the direction of the nearest demon, mouth wide.
The demon swung at her, managing to knock the insatiably hungry girl back by striking her with his arm. Louise was sent sprawling onto the floor a few feet away from both the demon and her two friends; as she lifted her head, she watched at the creature shifted it's attention from her and back to Isabel and Alexander, slowly beginning to trudge it's way over to them.
"Oh no you don't!" she called at it's back as she lifted herself to her feet again. And again, the young woman crouched as if she was about to break out into a sprint, but instead, Louise had launched herself into the air again. The young woman came down onto the creature, her body haven increased to twice it's size, and quite comically, her entire mouth stretched around the demon until she realised that her lips had touched the dirt.
Louise followed after Alexander and Isabel, bouncing from demon to demon in the same fashion where she had swallowed the first. If the fact that they could possibly die wasn't hanging in the air, Louise supposed that her actions may have looked quite comical. Louise reached the pillar after the duo, and stood at the bottom as she doubted that she could jump that high.
An incredibly mighty roar shook the ground, much like Sebastian had been prior - honestly, if it weren't for the road, Louise may have simply assumed that it was still him. Louise turned, and her eyes locked onto the creature that stood at 200ft tall. And it made her wonder: if she's grown twice her size already, just how tall could she get? With a foot on the ground and another resting against the pillar, Louise lunged herself back into the air in the direction of the beast.
The ground shook with a gargantuan force, knocking all off their feet, as for when Louise had landed in front of the creature, she was easily twice it's height. "Okay, what the hell?" she yelped, her voice deep and mighty from her sheer size. Well, at least she wasn't wearing a skirt - that would have been the largest panty shot in all of history.
Louise crouched, lifting the 200ft beast in one hand. "You're the big bad wolf?" she asked rhetorically, tipping and turning the creature around much like a curious child. She shook the creature, enjoying her catch for a moment before finally popping the now-tiny-to-her creature into her mouth. "That wasn't so hard," she remarked as she dusted off her hands.
Unfortunately, she didn't realise that due to her sheer size, each time her hands clapped together, the sound was thunderous. Louise caught herself, turning to the group with her face flushed. "Oops, sorry," she apologised before making her way back to her two friends now stranded utop the pillar. She layed her palm out to them, resting her fingertips against the edge of the pillar; it as if she were acting as a giant elevator platform. "Come on, I'll let you down."</s>
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<|description|>Age
21
Gender
Female
Sin
Gluttony
Fears
Pretty much everything, but her top 3 is:
* Thunder and extremely loud noises
* Things with scary faces
* Ghosts
Biography
Louise is an aspiring writer, and has already finished writing a novel, but it has not yet been published.
Louise is rather quiet and shy, and is the baby of the group, as she honestly acts like one from time to time. Louise is timid and afraid of pretty much everything, and has earned her title of "scaredy cat". The only reason she agreed to come along was so she could get more ideas for her new book.</s>
<|message|>Isabel "Izzy" Velton
Isabel Velton
@Emuxe@Arkaotic@Doc Doctor@DJRaVeS@FallenTrinity
"Isabel, you're not going to fall asleep. You own the voice, it obviously needs you to exist - don't forget that," Alexander's voice broke the silence in Isabel's mind, pulling her from the shock of hearing the voice again. She nodded to him, feeling the reassurance in his voice comforting her worry. She felt the heat in the air cool, she listened as the chaos below calmed into just a low roar, an ambience loomed across the valley of fire and rock beneath their height. She felt her head being turned, softly into Alexander's chest, and she gripped on tight to him and he started moving her forward.
"Come on, I'll let you down." Louise's voice was comforting to Isabel's ears, but she felt too weak to turn and face her friend. She cleared her mind, kept her eyes fixed on Alexander's dusted and wrinkled vest, and listened to her companions speak.
"It's done. They've been destroyed." Maybe it was Isabel's head placed upon Alexander's chest that made his voice seem louder than normal, but she thought she heard it echo across the valley. It was only another moment before she heard Jake's familiar voice directly next to her.
"Izzy? You okay?" The worried tone in Jake's voice alerted her enough to lift her face to his. She nodded slightly, still weak from before.
"Who else is injured?" He then asked aloud to Alex. Before Alex could respond, a thought rushed past Isabel's mind and out of her mouth.
"M-... Milo was hurt, bad... I think..." she couldn't make her voice any louder than the booming that continued throughout the skies, but she was certain that Jake had heard her. He left her vision quickly, and then his voice came from above.
"We... We need to figure out what's happening... Regroup!" Jake's voice boomed outward, echoing the same way Alexander's had. Isabel felt a breeze move across her face, her hair blowing in front of her eyes. She placed her head back upon Alexander's chest, more exhausted than she had ever been in her life. Her whole body was sore, especially her left hand. She blinked, lifting her left arm up, and stared into her palm. Each finger looked bent, twisted - the equivalent of each joint being popped from each socket. She then tried to wiggle each finger, but to no avail. She couldn't think about that, though. Not now, not after what had just happened in her head.
Her mind wandered quickly, however. She thought back to the party she had met everyone at, so distant now, she didn't even remember what it was for. All she knew was that Jake, the only person she was familiar with, having gone to High School together, had invited her. She was a skeptic at the time, not one to go out to social gatherings herself. But for some odd reason, she felt compelled to show up. She remembered Jake's happy-go-lucky attitude when he saw her, glad she had shown up, and ushered her over to where the other members of the group were. She really couldn't help but snicker when she saw them all - a merry band of misfits, if one could call it that. A large, rather uncomfortable looking nerd talking about some new game with what looked to be a stoner who didn't even know where he was; An athletic, white-haired boy trying to start up conversation with another boy who was tall and handsome, but he seemed to have no interest in the discussion, and sitting by herself by a light was the only other girl, a real bookworm, her nose deep in the crevice of a journal of sorts.
But then her mind drifted back to the present. Her worst dream, coming true in her very brain. The voice of a woman, devilish in sorts, full of a primitive and wild animosity, sinful with lust. Isabel felt the destruction in her mind, and curled up more, feeling tense again. Her left hand was burning - the immense suffering she felt along her fingers and wrist brought tears back to her eyes. A horrific numbness followed quickly, making her wonder if she had just lost all feeling in her hand. Then, suddenly, the pain in her hand went away. She kept thinking this time about looking back at it, but the pain was so immense that it tore at her energy and made her almost too exhausted to move her lips.
Isabel looked up from Alexander's vest one more time before noticing the wind ceasing to move through her hair, the stillness in the air symbolizing they had stopped moving.
"C... Can I be set down, now?" Isabel asked as politely as she could, but no matter how she tried to sound, the most evident sound in her words was her exhaustion. Alex leaned over and gently let Isabel down, her back up against a rock. There was almost a softness to what should have been a jagged surface, and she felt as if she had sunken into the ground a bit, like a warm mattress beneath her broken body. She closed her eyes, leaned her head back, and for once this whole night, she was almost comfortable. It only took an instant, and despite the noise that still rumbled through the air, Isabel fell asleep, but her dreams were not flooded with fear. No, she felt even too tired to dream. But she felt like she didn't have to worry about the woman in her mind, and she slumbered with ease in her mind.</s>
<|message|>Sabastian Matthews
Chapter One: Artifact
Interacting with @Spinosaurus,@Vashonn,@DJRaVeS,@Arkaotic,@Emuxe and@Doc Doctor
Despite the retreating demons, Wrath raged on, decimating anything that moved in his path. Not even once did he acknowledge that his friends had regrouped and were calling to him. In fact, he had taken one of the retreating demons by the arm and leg, heaved them over his head and threw it with nearly the speed of a bullet, right past Louise's face. He could hear voices calling out to him and possibly the rest but only two that he heard mattered and with that he smirked. Wrath stopped where he was, nearly two football fields away from the group and slowly turned. His turn, was off...It held a predator feel to it, like a purpose. Then wrath's anger was shot towards the group, as he was pointing the barrel of vengeance towards them. Like a tsunami, it hit them, bearing down with crushing weight, but specifically pointed at Pride and Sloth, especially Sloth.
"Tell me mortal, what are the names of your friends.." Sebastian, despite the pain responded with venom in his answer.
"Ahhhh! FUCK YOU! I'd ever tell yo-"
"It matters not...The one called Jake will be snuff from the world anyway." It interjected.
GULAAAAA! UBI AUTEM EST ACEDIAAAA!!!
GULAAAA! UBI AUTEM EST ACEDIAAAAA!!!
Seb roared, Wrath's voice mixed in with his own. But wrath knew where he was. He could see him, on her shoulder. The anger built up again. But it was different this time. It held much more behind it. Something that only Sloth would understand. There was a second roar, but not from their possessed white haired friend. The lines on his body burned brightly as smoke rolled off of his skin. Soon the brightly burning lines sparked into flames, white flames that burned another 5 feet above him. Seb's mouth seemed to tear on either side as his bicuspids melted into molten, smoking canines. Four horns of smoke and fire made its appearance. With each step forward, the ground behind him was glassed by his footsteps, his jacket was destroyed and all of the markings could now be seen. He slammed his fists together, each one causing a cavitation in his own hands that sent the concussive forces towards the group.
Sebastian was definitely not there.
ACEDIA! EORUM CAUSA DOLOREM! RELINQUIMUS ARBITRIO EIUS!
ACEDIA! EORUM CAUSA DOLOREM! RELINQUIMUS ARBITRIO EIUS!
Latin rolled off his tongue with such coherency and fluency that it sounded as if it was his first language. Wrath did not wait for an answer as he charged forward, even faster than before and leapt up towards the group like a fiery bullet. Three heavy rights ready to strike at Jake, who currently, Seb could see as Sloth, or at least Wrath could. Inside of his subconscious, inside of wrath's abysmal fiery stomach, he could only sit there and watch this unfol-
Inner sanctum of his tormented mind...
"No...I cannot let him do this...Those are my friends. I can't let him destroy them." He thought through the pain and burning agony.
"Back off of them! Or I swear to God-" He shouted through the pain.
"There is Nothing you can do to stop this. There is nothing you can do to stop me. Acedia had this coming. He is the reason I was bound and sealed away. He will pay for his betrayal." Sebastian couldn't stay in there. Not like this. He was not about to go down like this. And so he had a choice. Either stay in the bowels of the rage-filled sin or fightback and attempt to escape. He made his choice...
He began to fight back. But on the outside, Wrath still remained dominate of Seb's body. Now the real fight began.</s>
<|message|>Jacob "Jake" Saunders.
Jake Saunders
Louise flinched for a moment but he grabbed on. He needed to alert the others. He stood on Louise's shoulder, watching the land. This wasn't home. This wasn't earth. Jake wasn't sure if this was even the universe as we know it. The crackling of fire ran through the air. Sebastian bounded around as some sort of beast. This began to stop bothering him. Was he going to die here? And if he doesn't, will he even find a way home? Doubtful. "We need to consider what's happened. I mean, this is beyond our understanding. What's the next plan? Does anybody have ideas?" He said it rather loudly. He wasn't yelling, but most people were quite a ways away. Two being on Louise's hand, one looking over the demon remains, another one standing over the battlegrounds, and one on a rampage, and the other standing around. Although his voice was quiet to most of them, he was pretty much understood. "Does anybody have any ideas on what's happened? Like, we just need to plan." he continued, "We just need to figrue that out and somebody, just, calm Seb down." He finished. Just then, he was hit with a horrible migraine. Pain rushed all throughout his head. His muscles froze up and tensed, leaving him in place. His vision began to darken.
---
"Sloth. You've survived this long. I'm not here to congratulate you, nor thank you. We aren't colleagues. I'm benefiting and you're dying. I can't tell you anything. I must warn you, though. Things.. lie ahead..."
---
His vision came back to normal. He begain to move again. He sat down, looking over everybody, and waiting for a response.
@Emuxe@Doc Doctor@Arkaotic@DJRaVeS@Vashonn</s>
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<|message|>Age
"Full, Kirby?" Alexander teased, and the giant woman couldn't help but chuckle lightly.
"Fuck off," she laughed.
The feeling of Jake running up her arm sent a shiver right up Louise's spine - it felt like a spider had just scampered up her arm. He stopped on her shoulder, looking out on the land. He only just got a snippet of what Louise could see at her size. "We need to figure out what's happening..regroup!" Jake suddenly shouted right in her ear, causing her to yelp and flinch which sent Jake flying. Louise, trying her best to keep her hand platform straight, scrambled to catch Jake before he fell at least 350 feet to his death. She did catch him, letting out a sigh of relief as she did. "Sorry, Jake, just... Don't do that again."
"Come on, let's get somewhere safer," she announced, turning to the direction in which they had come and retreated back. They were in the middle of Hell, the area closest to where they came in would surely be the safest place. Louise slowly shrunk down, letting everyone down to the ground as soon as she struggled to hold them.
"We need to consider what's happened. I mean, this is beyond our understanding. What's the next plan? Does anybody have ideas?"
Louise glared over at Jake. "What's happened? What's happened?! You dragged us here got us into this mess!" she snapped. Although she herself wanted to punch Jake, the sight of Sebastian charging full speed at him still threw Louise back into protective-action; "Sebastian, no!" she exclaimed, as she ran toward him.
Louise threw herself between the two men, doubling her size, and took the full force of the triple punch and knocking Sebastian to the ground - an unstoppable force had met an immovable object. But by god it hurt; Louise clutched her diaphragm, wheezing as she collapsed to the ground at her regular size. Louise rolled onto her side, curled up in the fetal position and panting hard. "Ow..." she groaned.
"Does anybody have any ideas on what's happened? Like, we just need to plan."
Louise shakily raised a hand, a finger extended. "Can we start with my funeral?" she gasped out, writhing in pain.</s>
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<|description|>Milo Yiannopoulos
Age:23
Gender:Male
Appearance:
Sin:Greed
Personality: Layed back type, very friendly with weird personal space issues, very smart, self described lazy sociopath.
Fears: being poor, getting caught by the police, and dogs
Biography: As an pudding entrepreneur Milo has always found a way to make money. From selling candy from his locker to drugs to the jocks of his school. Milo always wanted more but never got it because of his incredible lack of motivation. Even after he graduated every job he took he would eventually quit. Going back to selling drugs or pick pocketing or playing music on the side of the street. This was hid kinda life, until that life came to a crashing halt. Milo was arrested and sent to jail. Being bailed out by his parents they gave him and ultimatum, go to collage or be cut off forever. This simple would not do for Milo since he didn't even pay the insurance on his van he was living in. With Milo starting his new life in collage he quickly found his old habbits coming back, and this is where he meet Phil. Phil was a kindred spirit to Milo in evil doing and the two reaking havoc across the collage. Phil eventually introducing him to the others. The others mention a night of excitement, and milo being the shady drug dealer he is thought he would tag along.</s>
<|message|>Isabel "Izzy" Velton
Isabel Velton
@FallenTrinity@DJRaVeS@Arkaotic@Doc Doctor@Emuxe
It took a moment and a wild shaking of her head before she actually paid any mind to what was happening around her. She heard yelling, she felt shaking, and then she was running. What was going on?
She thought hard, and the memories flooded her mind - it was like living two different things at the same time. She could vividly place herself where she was when she grabbed the barrette. Then, yelling? Wait, why was Sabastian on the floor? She started walking over to him and leaned over, but she didn't feel worry. She placed her hand on his shoulder, shook him a bit - she felt him start to gain consciousness - then he was upright.
Why are these feelings so... distant? Where did time go all of a sudden? She couldn't help but feel exhausted as all of a sudden, she was physically falling. There was a redness around her, and she saw everyone else falling along with her. When did she stop running?
Then, she went back to the past. It was such a surreal experience - she was hopping in and out of two different times, neither one seeming coherent. And she kept hearing this voice in the back of her mind - You're so perfect... You're so beautiful...
She remembered Jake saying something - what she heard was scattered, broken, scrambled.
"Guys--isn't--we're all--I just can't--" Everyone had this scared expression on their face. They all kept looking like a ghost to her. She looked back to Jake - she saw anger in his eyes. She glanced at Sabastian. She saw hatred. Then more shaking overtook her, and she was running.
Then, through a doorway. Free falling. Was this the present, now? She couldn't piece it together. Still, the voice persisted,
How lovely... How delicate...
Then they landed. But it wasn't like before, not like when they fell into the cave. She felt an ease, a grace beneath her feet. She felt the rock and sand, deep red in color, turn into jelly. She felt the earth soften and thicken, and harden again when she had placed both feet on the ground. It was like it knew to change and prepare for her impact, loosen for her landing.
Then there was a sea of black and red among the sand and rock - moving swiftly, closer and closer to them. Then she woke up.
"Oh - oh my God!!" She shrieked - were these demons?? She saw hundreds of the disgusting beasts surround them from all sides. She heard a destruction to her left and turned to see Jake pummel several into the ground. Fear struck her, turning her pale, and time seemed to slow around her. Then the voice was back.
Careful, precious - you're too important to freeze on us. She felt a shaking, and her left arm was lifted. She looked down at her hand, watching as her fingers bent and cracked around. Suddenly, the ground directly in front of her exploded and rained rubble, and the rubble turned into a rain. The demons who ran beneath it shrieked and screeched, their flesh practically falling from their skeletons. Isabel couldn't help but watch - no matter how hard she tried to turn her head, avert her gaze, she couldn't seem to get her muscles to work for her, like they were locked in place.
"Is this hell?" Jake asked aloud. The question was almost rhetorical in tone. Isabel kept pressing against her own muscles with her mind, trying so hard to move the way she wanted to. Finally, her body was released, and she fell backwards, all of her energy that she used to move, bursting out at once, forcing her to the ground.
You understand, don't you? I couldn't just let you die. So I took control. Then, she felt a pain well up in her gut. The kind that turns your body in on itself, forces your legs close to your chest.
"Who the hell are you!?" She screamed aloud, scared beyond her wits. She felt like she was possessed - she balled up and clasped her hands behind her head, tears starting to roll from her eyes. She didn't know if she could take it anymore, this small instance was just too much. She just wanted someone to come to her rescue, but she knew that this fight - the one in her head - made her feel more alone than she had ever been.</s>
<|message|>Jacob "Jake" Saunders.
Jake Saunders
He was fighting. Ripping arms off of demons. He pulled the head off of one which had an exoskeleton. He bounded. Stepping on the ground, a small earthquake began, pulling some demons into their fiery death. A voice began to speak to him. Encouraging him.
"Do you even know who I am? What I'm capable of?"
Jake had too much adrenaline in his system to worry or care about the voice. Before he could answer, it's as if it could read his mind.
"Of course not. You're powerful. Too much to even comprehend. What you're doing right now would take an entire mortal army to even scare them off."
"Huh? FUCK-" He was cut off as a demon grabbed his gauntlet and attempted to pull it off, almost ripping his arm out of it's socket in the process. "I will speak with you again. We have much.. er.. business... to discuss." The voice growled.
Reality began to set in for Jake. He communicated with a random voice. He was fighting strange beings. He was in a strange land. And, worst of all, there was no way to go home. He began to slow down. His eyes watered quite a bit, but he managed to choke back tears. It began to reverse, though. This began to fuel his adrenaline. It made him feel stronger. Grabbing a demon, he ripped it's jaws apart. He twisted another's arm completely around, and, with a kick that could crush bone, it's pelvis nearly turned into dust. He knocked a large bone off of the ledge. Several more jumped at him. He pushed them off. He charged into one and completely smothered it.
There's hell to pay.</s>
<|message|>Age
Louise had to chuckle at the strange compliment that Phil had given her, though her laughter suddenly turned startled. "Ah!" she yelped, pointing to a copy of her where Phil was just standing. "What the hell?!"
The totally Freaky Friday moment didn't last long, as it was promptly interrupted by the entire room shaking. If the ground could stay still for one minute, that'd be nice, she internally complained. She sight of a giant demonic looking door rising from the ground would have been enough to scare her, but then as the room filled with fog, but the sound of a demonic hiss and whisper had done it.
Louise had "eep"ed, her entire body freezing in place as she just stared at the large door.
"G-g-guys... this isn't.. uh.. this isn't normal. First we're all doing weird things, and then this opens. F-fuck man. I just can't fuck- I just can't do- I just can't do this."
Louise's gaze whipped over to Jake, who was honestly freaking out. She trudged up to her older friend, placing her hand on his shoulder; instead of doing this in comfort, Louise brought the back of her hand against Jake's face with a and audible echoing slap! sound. She only did it once, and had moved both of her hands on his shoulders and shook him only slightly. "Oh no you don't," she scolded, "you started this mess, so you're finishing it."
And with that, she'd pushed Jake in the direction of the gate before running in as well. She didn't know what had come over her, but she was all of a sudden feeling incredibly brav-
Falling again. Louise only barely landing on her feet, her arms flailing about as she tried to maintain her balance. And then, she was greeted by the sight of a terrifying demon. "Nope. Not brave at all," she corrected herself as she again froze in place, violently shaking in fear.
Thankfully, Jake had easily disposed of it before plainly asking, "Is.... this hell?"
Louise relaxed and started breathing again, but there was no way she felt any better. She was in Hell, she was going to die.
"Who the hell are you!?" she suddenly heard Isabel scream behind her, which had ripped her from her thought. Louise instantly whipped around to find the horror of the sight of Isabel having a full-blown panic attack. Louise rushed to her friend, clasping her by the shoulders while she squirmed about. "Issy, Issy look at me, what's going on?" she asked, worried about the welfare of her friend; this would be all too much for anyone.</s>
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<|message|>Milo Yiannopoulos
Milo slowly turned around. "What are you all screaming about... I swear you people can't ha-...n..."
The first thing that he saw was Louise, who quickly devoured a bat. He recoiled in disgust as he attempted to comprehend what he had seen. He then slowly watched as Phil shape-shifted in front of his eyes.
"What the fuck!? Did I take fucken bath salts!?" He tried to stagger over to the others, but he felt dizzy.
"What the fuck did I take!?"
Panic began to set in as the others seemed to be dealing with their own problems. He suddenly felt the ring on his right hand tighten up. The smell of heat filled his nose as he looked around the cave. Milo felt more and more panicked as he attempted to rip the ring off. The ring slowly began to glow a low, dull gold. This gold turned into bright red as the ring heated up on his finger.
"NOT COOL!! GET THIS SHIT OFF!!"
The gold melted off of the ring, leaving only a black dark ring made of carbon. The gold burned and sheered away Milo's finger. The fumes filled the room with the smell of burning flesh. Milo screamed out in pain, and he began rolling around, not able to touch the molten metal. His consciousness began to fade under the incredible pain. With the sobriety of pain, he heard a voice speak to him calmly,
"It is for your greed that you shall be punished for your sins... All those you have corrupted and manipulated for personal gain shall burn in you forever...." It trailed off as the pain increased.
The gold crept up his hand and wrist, much more than was originally on the gold ring. The molten gold injected itself into Milo's skin. The dull glow could be seen tracing up his veins and arteries. His arm burned and melted, and the gold slowly hardening around his arm and hands, encasing it in a solid gold. Milo's eyes filled with tears, and he eventually passed out from the pain.
__________________________________________________________
"Is.... this hell?"
Milo's consciousness slowly came back to him. He looked up, only to see a massive demon snarling over him. The demon raised his massive arms in an attempt at crushing Milo. Milo, still dazed, could only raise his left arm, now completely plated in gold. The sudden pop of the demons bones as its arms collided with Milo's field was heard. The sound was quickly muffled out by Jake's killing spree.
Milo, now fully conscious, looked around, processing what he was seeing and hearing. A smile with a certain devilishness appeared on his face. The demon wailing in anger and pain attempted to kick Milo. The kick lifted him up and sent him flying over the others. The force was stopped by his field but was still strong enough to launch him.
"Shit, shit, SHIT, SHIT!!" He yelled as he tumbled in the air helplessly.</s>
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<|description|>Aradia Coventry
Age
28
Race
Witch
Hieght
5' 11"
Weight
130 lbs.
Hair Colour
Blonde
Eye Colour
Blue
Description
With her sapphire blue eyes and silky blonde hair that flows and bounces on her shoulder, clear white skin and graceful steps, Aradia looks like something straight out of 50's beauty magazine. However, she, like the rest of us, does have her oddities. Her skin is either unnaturally cool or warm, her eyes are dark and piercing, and her lips are fixed in a permanent smirk or sneer. Pale scars, reminiscent of claw marks, line her hips and shoulders, marks which she covers up with casual clothes. T-shirt, jeans, jacket, anything to blend in, however in certain occasions, Aradia isn't shy to wear a frilly white dress and stand over a grate that's blowing air. Though, she's more a fan of natural colours, deep navy blues, and lush forest greens with white or opal jewels that sparkle on her fingers and neck like little stars.
Visual
Personalty
Aradia is a very reserved woman, drinking overpriced lattes in fancy cafes alone while she judges strangers from afar. None of that Southern hospitality had remained with her, however, cold as she may be, Aradia isn't unsympathetic. She cares for the ones around her, hell, she might even bring a cupcake to work for a coworker's birthday, but overall, she likes to keep that stoic and independent exterior. Aradia is also naturally cunning, quick witted and with a well well-hung tongue, she's not afraid to snap back some sassy response even if she's all tied up with a gun barrel pointed at her head, she might as well go out with a laugh.
Background
Located somewhere in between the deep south where cousins marry, and up north where complaining about coffee prices is a norm, Aradia lived a relatively peaceful life. Going through the natural stages of life. Going to school, get A's, make a crap short story in middle school, smoke pot in high school and go to college and graduate with a degree you never wanted in the first place. Everyone is always quick to say they hate life, and so is Aradia, but deep down she enjoyed it. Her parents were always there to ruin it, though.
Aradia did come from a long line of witches, however, she also came from a long line of religious fanatics too so no one really did get to express their more magical side. And Aradia's parents were especially overbearing, the perfect conditions to grow a rebel in. Aradia's grew and strengthened her short-lived rebellious nature in the form of witchcraft, she never really believed in the stuff at first, she only enjoyed the feeling of pointing at her parents and say "I curse thee!" in order to feel as if she has some control in her life before storming up into her room and slamming the door shut.
However, a certain power always resided in her home after she burnt a few offerings to the god of Who-Gives-A-Damn, it was nothing at first, colder weather more unpleasant dreams, but once the windows started to explode in and the bulbs constantly flickering, Aradia's parents fear of her becoming something nasty wasn't unfounded. Aradia was soon kicked out and ran into the arms of the only one who still cared about her, Grand Mama.
Her grandmother's home was a nurturing place, one of serenity and peace, but even in those perfect conditions Aradia's teen angst and hate for her parents stewed. Her grandmother, or Grand Mama, tried hard to convince Aradia's parents to take back the girl, to be supportive and understanding but her struggles were in vain, it was clear they wanted nothing to do with their daughter, and so Grand Mama kept her. Aradia's life was quite after that, her hate turned to apathy and she slowly fell out of the craft, she was back on track on becoming a normal nobody again.
Time passed quickly, and in the blink of an eye, Aradia was all grown up and ready to move out. Little happened in between. Aradia fell back into witchcraft, though, curious about her witchy past after she was hit by a wave of nostalgia when viewing a family album, inspiration arises from the strangest of places. She had begun her transformation into the hippie aunt who wore healing crystals by the time she left home, making her way into a homey apartment in a peculiar city that was never discussed about instead in hushed whispers and disapproving glares.
Aradia used to treat witchcraft as a simple tool for her to use, believing that no real harm could come to her if, however, her perspective on all that radically changed one day when she walked into her home to see it ransack, not by intruders, but by poltergeists who think hanging dead animal entrails on her lights was a funny prank.
That day, Aradia almost did make a bigger mess on the floor, but, instead of running away from the magic that caused this, she stuck around and continued playing. Playing with a lion's tail would most likely be safer than toying around with demons, but she just had to satisfy her curiosity. She discovered many more aspects of the craft by doing so, the more destructive side, the more powerful side. Soon, the balance of the universe and life itself were just playthings to her, granted those playthings might kill her at any second but isn't the thrill of danger what makes life so enjoyable?
Aradia soon found herself a job at the Syndicate, deciding to try to put her witchy past to use. A part of her did want to help the world by tracking down and neutralizing dangers, but deep down she knew she was just there to test out her powers. The work was dangerous, but the thrill and practice was worth getting all that ectoplasm on your favourite skirt.
Weapon
* The Bell
This bell, infused with Aradia's power, can draw in or scare away spirits, with it's clear, and high-pitched tone. Ringing it with proper intent can invoke spirits for a seance or ritual, or drive away demons, ghosts, or any other unpure power that seeks to harm Aradia. (Note: The bell isn't able to banish everything, only small creatures or weak curses. Anything more powerful than that can only be weakened, and possibly driven away, or annoyed.)
* Athame
A small knife, seemingly normal and uninteresting at first glance. The black-hilted blade is actually a very potent tool capable of showcasing many properties from acting as a magnet to slicing anything without even touching it. Aradia's blade, infused with her own magic, never dulls and is extremely sharp, able to slice through steel if enough pressure is applied. Also, holding the blade firmly in her hand can increase the potency of her spells during rituals and spells.
* String of Pearls
Charged with devastating or holy power, dropping one of the beads can cause it to affect the area around it, usually several feet in diameter. Their abnormal properties are akin to Aradia's fourth power, able to subtly or clearly affect anything in the area, in terms of corrupting or cleansing the target area, without Aradia needing to first touch the target. These effects can be boosted morale or an increase in hopelessness, to causing disease or cure to spread quicker in the area, a more subtle and less powerful alternative to spread magic than using her powers. Placing the beads back on the string or destroying it are the only means by which the beads' effects can be halted, however, if left alone, the beads are able to affect the area for a full day before spending all their energy and becoming simple and non-magical beads again.
* A Totally Ordinary Cookbook
The Grimoire/Cook Book is chock full of handy apple pie recipes, and instructions on how to summon a dark lord. Hidden among recipes for gumbo and perfectly seasoned turkey are instructions for different spells and potions and natural remedies that are cleverly embedded in the words to stop any nosey family member from reading through and figuring out what it's for. The book itself, however, is not in anyway magical, however, it is infused with emotion throughout the years of its use, making it very handy to empower spells.
Skills
* Durable
The magic that Aradia uses on a day to day basis has not only bewitched her charms but her flesh too. Its power twists and mingles in her flesh, blood, and bone, strengthening her defences. While she may not be able to simply shrug off a bullet like Superman, she has learned how to take a punch. Able to power through broken legs and gaping wounds, curses and spells with her increased pain tolerance.
* Dead Tongue
Aradia, through years of casting spells, has honed a special talent, she's able to speak a whole slew of mystic languages. From Latin to Greek to Arabic and much more, Aradia is quick at understand any language used for magical purposes.
* Enchantress
Aradia's pretty face is a lot more useful than you'd expect. While not total mind control, Aradia's has a natural charm about her that makes her very persuasive. Able to tempt even the most headstrong of people with a few carefully chosen words and a flick of her skirt. Reserved as she may be, Aradia is deep down a people person.
* Wild
Everyone has their animalistic tendencies, and Aradia is no different. During times of great pressure or stress, Aradia starts to grow colder, more cunning and manipulative, able to think calmer and quicker about the situation at hand. Her physical abilities also start to peak, getting sudden boosts of energy during chases, and a harder exterior and faster movements during a fight.
Powers
* Give in
Aradia gives herself up to the unholy spirits that her craft attracts, letting them twist her mind and flesh into a horrible monster hellbent on death. Her once lissom figure and pretty face is now transformed to a lanky, and stretched mass of red flesh and black bone, with razor-like tooth and nail. Aradia loses the ability to control her body, everything she does is now controlled by the dark spirits that possess her, and their only ambition is to kill anything in front of her. However, Aradia can tap out of this state at will, but, the longer she stays in it, the harder it gets to tap out, and the process of gaining control again is very draining, usually leaving her physically weak and drowsy. Aradia is able to maintain this monstrous state for a few hours before it becomes irreversible.
* Deadly Aura
Aradia gains the ability to manipulate life of any target within direct line of sight, allowing her to drain life, inflict sickness, leech off health, and, if concentrating enough, heal others in exchange for her own health or an unsuspecting victim.
* Magic
A witch's most important skill. Aradia is able to cast a whole slew of spells, from chilling blasts to calling upon the undead. However, unlike her other powers, casting spells usually requires her to pay up in order for her magic to take effect. Costs can range from simple concentration to tapping into the eldritch energy within her, to burning basil leaves, or sacrificing a goat. The higher the cost, the more potent and powerful the spell. (However she is able to cast any magic she wants using only spiritual energy and centration, but overuse of this will lead to fatigue, passing out, or even death.)
* Cleanse and Corrupt
Tapping into unseen cosmic powers, Aradia can tip the delicate balance of the universe towards corruption or purification. Gaining the ability to corrupt minds in order to turn them into wild rabid beasts (currently only able to affect animals), or purify the mind to shake free any being from unpure thoughts or control. Corrupt the body in order to weaken it and cause sickness, or purify it in order to boost one's physical prowess or strengthen wits. Corrupt the spirit to plant seeds of doubt into minds, cause tendencies to act and think irrationally and lash out, or purify the spirit to inspire and calm the target. Sentient beings aren't the only ones affected by Aradia's influence, the environment around her too is warped. In subtle ways like increased growth of plants or faster contamination of foods and wounds, or much more obvious ways like causing plants to grow thorns near instantly or trees to sour to their fruits and drop it on oblivious heads, or make beds of flowers bloom at will, but there's no fun in growing a garden, now is there? (These occurrences only start to manifest when Aradia has contact with the target, but Aradia can affect any target if a taglock and proper ritual items are provided to her.)</s>
<|message|>James Harrison
Aliens!? Agent Harrison's mouth fell agape as his concentration broke. Even as a medium, this had been the farthest thing from his mind. Still, he had little time to think of anything at the moment. Without a second glance towards the pastor or his teammates, Harrison ran towards the exit, pushing and shoving his way through the crowd of brainwashed men and women. As he did, he blocked the pain and panic that shot through his mind, the pain and panic of those around him. His body began to shake slightly with the effort, and he became conscious of cold sweat pouring down his forehead, but this wasn't the first time he had been in a situation like this. Had he let this sort of stuff get to him, he would of died years ago.
Harrison wasn't sure how he managed to reach the other side of the room, but in a manner of seconds, he was there, scratched and bleeding, but alive. Resisting the urge to turn and help others escape, he ran through the door.</s>
<|message|>Mithias Varomere
The building was fucking falling.
Mithias looked up to see the facade of the pastor fall away and the heard the alien's departing speech as he folded his arms behind some kind of forcefield. He saw the ceiling give way above him as the far wall slanted threateningly forward into its collapse, its support beams refusing to break. The chain of events were like dominoes tipping one into another to the hyped senses of a vampire surrounded by blood.
The cam feed would be a brief blur followed by the suddenly startled sight of the other agents faces as Mithias appeared covered in blood in front of them outside in the streets. The cacophony of the church's collapse thundered behind Mithias before he finally turned around and gazed up at the alien vessel taking off.
Mithias' camera looked down at his own semi-clawed white and bloody hands before turning back toward the others.
"Director..."
Everyone seemed to be ok.
Mithias added with annoyance. "I lost my gun."</s>
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<|message|>Aradia Coventry
Aradia let go of her teammates, dodging past attacking things. Could they even be called human at this point? Aradia saved that discussion for another time as she busted through the doors, escaping into the night air. The chill wind made the sweat on her forehead prickle her skin as she frantically looked around while she shouted into the church at her group. "Get out now!"
She stopped for a moment, throat raw and breathing heavily as she looked around, thankfully seeing no one. Yet. The rising commotion was bound to attract people, and she possibly missed a few people. Aradia's vision was clogged by sweat as she placed a finger to her ear, hysterically shouted into her mic, "What's happening? What was that?"</s>
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<|description|>Mithias Varomere
Nickname: *glares intently at you*
Age: n/a
Race: Vampire
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 170
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Yellow
Description:
Mithias was found early by the Syndicate, mainly due to the fact that he has some trouble not standing out among average humans. His light skin isn't such a big deal, but his eyes are clearly an unnatural shade. Thus, he has led his vampire life wearing hats and hoods and keeping to dim light, in which most human retinas fail to properly discern color. Usually, his long hair is down and he wears a suit in the office. His face is even and seemingly fixed in a "resting bitch" expression. He looks fairly athletic under that suit. 'claims he used to be a midevil knight.
Personality: Mithias was around long enough before a hellhole opened up beneath Baylor, and he doesn't want to see the activities of demons and the like giving his kind a bad name. As far as vampires go, he's friendly toward humans, assuming they don't initially flee in terror, but he has become completely comfortable with feeding on them, even killing them. He's always tried to incorporate some morality in his choices, ie. not feeding on the meek and innocent, but he will not stake his survival. In modern times, there's little reason for him not to drink donated blood, and so he prefers that. He is generally quite, surprised by very little, enjoys nature and for some reason playing the violin.
Mithias had stuck around for many generations after his making in order to protect and oversee his own family's descendants. When that family grew too big to follow, he walked away and became more interested in finding others of his kind and promoting justice from the shadows. The Syndicate helps him do that.
Background: Mithias has never gone into great detail about his origins. Suffice it to say he was a warrior, religious, and from Old World Germany. He doesn't have any great vampire contacts, but he did once travel through Alaskan werewolf territory during an extreme depression phase and was nearly killed. ...Better not ask him about that time.
Mithias is involved with the Syndicate as both an agent and a tactical officer. Usually, he analyses the information gathered by the other agents and stays out of the field during the daylight, but if the situation calls for it, he can personally stalk a target, act as a spy, or attempt a high-risk assassination requiring his vampiric advantages.
Weapon(s): Seeing as how small guns won't stop a vampire, or werewolf, or demon, or what have you, Mithias prefers to carry two modern, high tech composite swords at his sides when he is on dangerous missions. Severing a limb and bloodloss are so much more effective if a confrontation cannot be avoided.
Along this same vein, he has three, named daggers designed with barbed edges and rivets to promote bleeding. Heartseeker, Blooddrinker, and Soulstealer will quickly wear down stronger enemies.
Mithias can shoot, but even for a vampire, he doesn't have the best aim.
He is quite proficient with a simple leather whip.
Regardless, Mithias prefers a safe, tactical approach and would rather setup tripwires and explosives, or traps involving electric shock, flash grenades, or something for his target to inadvertently walk into. He gained a lot of this training and knowledge while working for the Syndicate.
Skills: Melee combat: Specifically Mithias is proficient at his dual blades. He's had enough time to hone his own artform, fusing his supernatural senses and reflexes into a unique style that can strike in multiple directions at once. He need not even turn his head to attack behind him as he can already sense the vibrations and hear the air being sliced around him. He is a whirlwind of blades, a blender of death and blood to any attacker that dares approach. On the other hand, he's not so good with hand to hand or grappling, except for what advantage his enhanced strength can give him. Even with his blood-letting daggers, he's quite reliant on the sword.
Warfare tactics: There are some adversaries that are simply too dangerous or too armored to take head on, and so tricks and traps must be employed. Mithias has studied explosives and some degree of chemical warfare. He more often intends to setup an opponent into walking into something that will either trap or kill them. He understands enough of non-humans to anticipate and counter their most often used methods of attack. He can lay traps or council his team on how to do so.
Leadership: Experience himself in the field has given Mithias the understanding necessary to remotely lead other operatives via communicator. When a team goes out, he tells them where to go and when to move and coordinates their individual actions.
Stealth: Mithias can follow someone and spy on them without getting too close. His senses always tell him when someone is coming and he can "vanish" in a burst of speed when necessary. He can hold perfectly still, even under duress, if it means avoiding being seen.
Power(s):
Typical vampire stuff: Heighted senses such as hearing, sight, temperature, air pressure, etc. And Enhanced strength and speed. Mithias could definitely flip a car, but picking it up and throwing it would be too difficult. Hence, he could jump longer distances, not take as much damage from falling, run unnaturally fast, and dodge really well. I'm not going to have him able to dodge bullets, unless he's lucky and knows it's coming from a far enough distance away to move in time. Close range, he's fucked. His strength is much less than a werewolf's, but on par with most young vampires. Strength is not his forte.
Mind Ward: Immune to any and all mental manipulation (magic). What this means is no other psychic or vampire or telepath or demon, etc. can influence his thoughts, emotions, memories, or even speak to him telepathically. Nor can they read his mind. This is the primary gift of Mithias' bloodline and is as far as we know, unique to him alone as a vampire.
Pyrokinesis: Low level ability, like putting out candles and starting small fires in fairly close range. With effort, he could bend flames and heat away from himself to escape a burning building, but he can't stop explosions. He can melt computers.
Fast Healing: Mithias can survive even severe wounds as long as they don't obliterate his body or crush his skull. If he gets impaled through the heart, he'll be unconscious, which is just as good as dead, basically, until that object is removed and the damage healed. His healing is also limited by how much blood he has consumed lately. He can only heal if he has the blood for it.</s>
<|message|>Persephone Kalavos
Well, this just went pear-shaped. Seph was tempted to take off her glamour charm, but decided against it. Better to leave the pastor in the dark as to just what she was capable of. She figured her best move was to stall the monster, try to distract him. "Peace is nice, but it has to be come by honestly. What you're doing isn't making peace, it's making slaves."
Into her radio, the gorgon muttered, "Anyone got an idea on how to break the control? I'm afraid that if they're still under his control when we kill him, they'll die too, and I don't want to have to clean up more corpses than absolutely necessary." Her hand strayed towards her pistol. She didn't like killing, but if Goodfellow made a move on her, he'd end up with a 9-millimeter surprise. Simple as that.</s>
<|message|>James Harrison
Agent Harrison held back a frustrated sigh. He had known it would a bad idea to reveal himself like that, to just stand up and walk to the front. He had felt it run down his spine like a shiver. He had written it off as nervousness, but now he couldn't help but think it was a premonition. What was done was done though, and now, as he stood before this vile man, this-- this... Now wasn't the time to let his emotions get the better of him, Harrison knew that. He had to think! But how could he with all these twisted and mutilated auras? Everything felt muddled and confused, twisted and distorted. Suddenly though, in his earpiece he heard the voice from one of his fellow agents cut through the fog:"Anyone got an idea on how to break the control? I'm afraid that if they're still under his control when we kill him, they'll die too, and I don't want to have to clean up more corpses than absolutely necessary."
She was right- albeit a bit insensitive. This "pastor" -if he could even be called that- was dangerous, but the extent of his powers were also unknown. What would happen to those under his control if that tie was broken? Would it somehow harm them? He had heard of such things happening with psychic links before, but he wasn't sure. And if the agents did attack him, then what? No doubt his "followers" would rise to defend him, innocent bystanders who would be punished for nothing more than a desire to believe in something greater than themselves. It was probably best not to make a bad situation worse. Sure, things looked pretty dire now, but there could still be an alternative to total chaos - and the pain any violence would bring Harrison. For the time being, Harrison decided it would be best to stall the pastor, to try to get a read on him and his powers.
He didn't move, he didn't even blink. If he needed to defend himself or his team members, he would, but until that moment, he would focus every ounce of his powers to get some sort of read on the pastor, to try to gather any form of information he could. There wasn't much else he could do now, and if the pastor did have any other tricks up his sleeve, it was Harrison's job to try to find it out.</s>
<|message|>Buck Baker
Buck drops his hand and sighs. He didn't feel comfortable responding to her since he was right in front of Goodfellow. "Whelp, kinda walked into that one, didn't we?", he thinks. He took a quick glance around him to see if any of the parishioners had made a move on them, but he couldn't see any of them close, apart from the Mother and Children. At least he had backup, but against so many people the odds weren't in their favor. Not to mention that he wasn't keen on harming innocent people.
It was time to stall, and maybe learn a little more about this guy. Turning back to the Pastor, he shrugged. "Well, that's the thing. I'm fine with where I am. Though I am impressed with the size of the congregation. Must be nice having so many eyes and ears.</s>
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<|message|>Mithias Varomere
Once floor up on the balcony overlooking the worship hall, Mithias the vampire stood, arms crossed behind him as he peered over the edge of a pair of reflective shades that hid his yellow eyes. His lips were pursed as he enjoyed his perch with a full view over everyone below. A charcoal grey suit with a swan broach made it seem as if he belonged here, or at least belonged somewhere important. He had already scouted out the entire building ahead of time, including its attic, basement, and fire escapes. There was no where this priest could go without Mithias already having placed cameras outside, as was part of a proper stakeout.
The problem with having lived so long was that everywhere reminded you of somewhere else. Alas, Mithias could no longer take pleasure in a Christian service. True, the ceremonial stuff was just as it was ages ago in any place in Europe, but Mithias knew too much. He had seen the world power fall, the crusades fail, the corruption inherent in the system overtake it time and again.
Was there even a god? Well, Mithias knew of one, and once he realized what was happening below the terrifying memories overtook him. Gabriel, having stood exactly where the pastor stood now, staring down his opponents with a sharklike grin. He was only a vampire, but one with surpurb mind control, and with it, he threw body after body in front of his attackers, laughing as they slaughtered one innocent after another, forcing them to climb a pile of bodies of their own making as they tried to get to him. It was futile of course, and Gabriel got away as he always did. Such a horror.
"... If he tries anythin' funny, then just kill the smilin' bastard." The voice came over his earpiece.
Mithias' eyebrow visibly twitched in his anger. Bill had no idea what was about to happen.
Pulling slowly back from the balcony ledge, Mithias spoke ever so softly into his communicator. "You must order our team to pull back, director. We have identified the suspect. Proper procedure is to bring in one of the affected and analyze them quietly. We cannot confront the suspect without endangering a hundred human lives right now." Mithias saw the congregation suddenly turn all smiling eyes toward the agents below. ...fuck. Mithias beheld the scene with his own eyes to give Bill a good view. All those people were going to be cannon fodder, and the agents who had revealed themselves could be at risk as well.
A few of the agents were green and trigger happy... The truth was that neither the Syndicate nor the beings they confronted and often executed were truly all good or all evil. Everything was a shade of grey in Mithias' age-enlightened eyes, and at this point, he felt the pastor deserved more of a chance to be reasoned with. He wouldn't voice his unfavored opinion directly, however, but he would do his best to limit casualties on both sides as much as possible.
Tensions were mounting. Mithias narrowed his eyes and whispered with some urgency, "Director?"</s>
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<|description|>Mithias Varomere
Nickname: *glares intently at you*
Age: n/a
Race: Vampire
Height: 6'3"
Weight: 170
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Yellow
Description:
Mithias was found early by the Syndicate, mainly due to the fact that he has some trouble not standing out among average humans. His light skin isn't such a big deal, but his eyes are clearly an unnatural shade. Thus, he has led his vampire life wearing hats and hoods and keeping to dim light, in which most human retinas fail to properly discern color. Usually, his long hair is down and he wears a suit in the office. His face is even and seemingly fixed in a "resting bitch" expression. He looks fairly athletic under that suit. 'claims he used to be a midevil knight.
Personality: Mithias was around long enough before a hellhole opened up beneath Baylor, and he doesn't want to see the activities of demons and the like giving his kind a bad name. As far as vampires go, he's friendly toward humans, assuming they don't initially flee in terror, but he has become completely comfortable with feeding on them, even killing them. He's always tried to incorporate some morality in his choices, ie. not feeding on the meek and innocent, but he will not stake his survival. In modern times, there's little reason for him not to drink donated blood, and so he prefers that. He is generally quite, surprised by very little, enjoys nature and for some reason playing the violin.
Mithias had stuck around for many generations after his making in order to protect and oversee his own family's descendants. When that family grew too big to follow, he walked away and became more interested in finding others of his kind and promoting justice from the shadows. The Syndicate helps him do that.
Background: Mithias has never gone into great detail about his origins. Suffice it to say he was a warrior, religious, and from Old World Germany. He doesn't have any great vampire contacts, but he did once travel through Alaskan werewolf territory during an extreme depression phase and was nearly killed. ...Better not ask him about that time.
Mithias is involved with the Syndicate as both an agent and a tactical officer. Usually, he analyses the information gathered by the other agents and stays out of the field during the daylight, but if the situation calls for it, he can personally stalk a target, act as a spy, or attempt a high-risk assassination requiring his vampiric advantages.
Weapon(s): Seeing as how small guns won't stop a vampire, or werewolf, or demon, or what have you, Mithias prefers to carry two modern, high tech composite swords at his sides when he is on dangerous missions. Severing a limb and bloodloss are so much more effective if a confrontation cannot be avoided.
Along this same vein, he has three, named daggers designed with barbed edges and rivets to promote bleeding. Heartseeker, Blooddrinker, and Soulstealer will quickly wear down stronger enemies.
Mithias can shoot, but even for a vampire, he doesn't have the best aim.
He is quite proficient with a simple leather whip.
Regardless, Mithias prefers a safe, tactical approach and would rather setup tripwires and explosives, or traps involving electric shock, flash grenades, or something for his target to inadvertently walk into. He gained a lot of this training and knowledge while working for the Syndicate.
Skills: Melee combat: Specifically Mithias is proficient at his dual blades. He's had enough time to hone his own artform, fusing his supernatural senses and reflexes into a unique style that can strike in multiple directions at once. He need not even turn his head to attack behind him as he can already sense the vibrations and hear the air being sliced around him. He is a whirlwind of blades, a blender of death and blood to any attacker that dares approach. On the other hand, he's not so good with hand to hand or grappling, except for what advantage his enhanced strength can give him. Even with his blood-letting daggers, he's quite reliant on the sword.
Warfare tactics: There are some adversaries that are simply too dangerous or too armored to take head on, and so tricks and traps must be employed. Mithias has studied explosives and some degree of chemical warfare. He more often intends to setup an opponent into walking into something that will either trap or kill them. He understands enough of non-humans to anticipate and counter their most often used methods of attack. He can lay traps or council his team on how to do so.
Leadership: Experience himself in the field has given Mithias the understanding necessary to remotely lead other operatives via communicator. When a team goes out, he tells them where to go and when to move and coordinates their individual actions.
Stealth: Mithias can follow someone and spy on them without getting too close. His senses always tell him when someone is coming and he can "vanish" in a burst of speed when necessary. He can hold perfectly still, even under duress, if it means avoiding being seen.
Power(s):
Typical vampire stuff: Heighted senses such as hearing, sight, temperature, air pressure, etc. And Enhanced strength and speed. Mithias could definitely flip a car, but picking it up and throwing it would be too difficult. Hence, he could jump longer distances, not take as much damage from falling, run unnaturally fast, and dodge really well. I'm not going to have him able to dodge bullets, unless he's lucky and knows it's coming from a far enough distance away to move in time. Close range, he's fucked. His strength is much less than a werewolf's, but on par with most young vampires. Strength is not his forte.
Mind Ward: Immune to any and all mental manipulation (magic). What this means is no other psychic or vampire or telepath or demon, etc. can influence his thoughts, emotions, memories, or even speak to him telepathically. Nor can they read his mind. This is the primary gift of Mithias' bloodline and is as far as we know, unique to him alone as a vampire.
Pyrokinesis: Low level ability, like putting out candles and starting small fires in fairly close range. With effort, he could bend flames and heat away from himself to escape a burning building, but he can't stop explosions. He can melt computers.
Fast Healing: Mithias can survive even severe wounds as long as they don't obliterate his body or crush his skull. If he gets impaled through the heart, he'll be unconscious, which is just as good as dead, basically, until that object is removed and the damage healed. His healing is also limited by how much blood he has consumed lately. He can only heal if he has the blood for it.</s>
<|message|>Persephone Kalavos
The shit had officially hit the fan. Seph pushed her shock at the sight of the pastor's true form aside. It was time to beat feet... metaphorically speaking.
The gorgon slithered for her life towards the open door. Her pistol was out of rounds, and she didn't have the time to reload. Boss, this one might be tough to wipe. I mean, how the hell are we going to blank the entire city? Cause that's who's going to see it.</s>
<|message|>Buck Baker
Buck pushed towards the exit, the roar of the thrusters drowning out the sounds of fighting. He grabbed a metal candlestick, cracking open an attacker's skull. Seeing that Richard had joined him, he wryly noted "Getting a cadaver means killing, Rick."
Buck readied himself. He rushed forward, gun in one hand and bludgeon in the other. Focused on getting to the exit, he switched between bullets and bashing, steadily clearing a way through the crowd. Even as he closed the distance to the exit, he made sure that Richard wasn't mobbed. Realizing that he wasn't going to hold out alone forever, he shouted "Come help me, it's time to get out!"</s>
<|message|>Richard Arachnidae
Richard used his tazer to keep the mob off him but he can only shock one person at a time. "Thats why I said to try and not kill them. A living specimen would be best but a cadaver will work just as well!" he shouted over the roar of the spacecraft starting up. He realized that it was useless to hide himself now so he threw off his cap and coat to give him better vision and more limbs to help keep his attackers at bay. Each spider leg kicked out at his attackers with enough strength to knock them back. Each leg is strong enough to hold his weight when hanging upside down, so those kicks did more than tickle. He tried his best to stay close to Buck, he may be useless ina firefight, but against normal humans he can at least hold his own against a few at a time.</s>
<|message|>James Harrison
Aliens!? Agent Harrison's mouth fell agape as his concentration broke. Even as a medium, this had been the farthest thing from his mind. Still, he had little time to think of anything at the moment. Without a second glance towards the pastor or his teammates, Harrison ran towards the exit, pushing and shoving his way through the crowd of brainwashed men and women. As he did, he blocked the pain and panic that shot through his mind, the pain and panic of those around him. His body began to shake slightly with the effort, and he became conscious of cold sweat pouring down his forehead, but this wasn't the first time he had been in a situation like this. Had he let this sort of stuff get to him, he would of died years ago.
Harrison wasn't sure how he managed to reach the other side of the room, but in a manner of seconds, he was there, scratched and bleeding, but alive. Resisting the urge to turn and help others escape, he ran through the door.</s>
<|message|>Mithias Varomere
The building was fucking falling.
Mithias looked up to see the facade of the pastor fall away and the heard the alien's departing speech as he folded his arms behind some kind of forcefield. He saw the ceiling give way above him as the far wall slanted threateningly forward into its collapse, its support beams refusing to break. The chain of events were like dominoes tipping one into another to the hyped senses of a vampire surrounded by blood.
The cam feed would be a brief blur followed by the suddenly startled sight of the other agents faces as Mithias appeared covered in blood in front of them outside in the streets. The cacophony of the church's collapse thundered behind Mithias before he finally turned around and gazed up at the alien vessel taking off.
Mithias' camera looked down at his own semi-clawed white and bloody hands before turning back toward the others.
"Director..."
Everyone seemed to be ok.
Mithias added with annoyance. "I lost my gun."</s>
<|message|>Aradia Coventry
Aradia let go of her teammates, dodging past attacking things. Could they even be called human at this point? Aradia saved that discussion for another time as she busted through the doors, escaping into the night air. The chill wind made the sweat on her forehead prickle her skin as she frantically looked around while she shouted into the church at her group. "Get out now!"
She stopped for a moment, throat raw and breathing heavily as she looked around, thankfully seeing no one. Yet. The rising commotion was bound to attract people, and she possibly missed a few people. Aradia's vision was clogged by sweat as she placed a finger to her ear, hysterically shouted into her mic, "What's happening? What was that?"</s>
<|message|>Persephone Kalavos
As Seph made her way out of the collapsing church, she saw that her teammates were safe as well. ET seemed to have gone home, and good riddance to him. The gorgon looked around at her compatriots.
"Well, that could have gone better. Main thing is, though, we're all safe."
When Mathias mentioned his missing firearm, Seph groaned. "All that, and the first thing you're worried about is a missing gun? How about the fact that we almost got ourselves killed in there, or the fact that he got away with mindslaving over a hundred people? No, you're heading straight to your service piece. Ugh."</s>
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<|message|>Mithias Varomere
The demonic glow faded from the vampire's eyes and his speaking gradually made him return to looking more like an ally than a renegade supernatural that needed to be put down. He checked the swan broach on his suit briefly, not otherwise concerned with the condition of his garb. He answered Seph, "The weapon will be found in the wreckage, along with many mutilated bodies and several with well-placed bullets inside them. Evidence of the alien ship or the parasitic plague may be inconclusive, especially if any of the affected managed to escape and contact the media with their own version of the story. Even now, they would appear to us as normal humans. We have no means of tracking them. The cavern beneath the church might be played as a sinkhole, or the result of a bomb that had been brought in by some madman... with a gun... which was registered ambiguously as property of Paranormal Research Investigation and Eradication Syndicate... which Director Hadley will report as stolen... which will raise questions of why he had not reported it stolen sooner, or why any agent of his would have been there, botched a mission, or betrayed the Syndicate, branding our kind again with a bad name... As you can see, poor Bill will be inundated in red tape and legal pressure by the large percentage of the human population which are convinced we are part of the problem and want to see us all eradicated."
Mithias didn't look at Seph as he spoke, instead continuing to passive-aggressively stare at the pathetic pile of rubble that had been a church and slamming the whole team with a sudden silence that was vengeful and somber.
The verbal lashing lingered for a moment as no one really knew how to respond. Finally, Mithias began walking back to the scene. "I'll retrieve a body."</s>
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<|description|>Finch
Age: 143
Species/Race: Pixie
Gender: Male
Abilities: Wings allow for flight; skilled dual swordsman; can produce and utilize pixie dust to produce a variety of effects on those who come into contact with it, including paralysis, nausea, and drowsiness; these effects are very minor unless the target is exposed to very large amounts of pixie dust or the pixie dust directly enters their blood stream; producing too much pixie dust causes him to feel dizzy and ill; has the ability to speak to plants and animals, but cannot understand them when they speak back
Appearance/Equipment: Finch stands at around 1'9", about the size of your average shortsword. A rather dashing pixie, Finch is handsome but wild. His hair is brown like tree bark and despite his best efforts, it is constantly flying madly in every direction. Every morning, his bedhead takes on a unique and interesting new shape, much to his dismay. Finch's face is chiseled, but his features can be a bit difficult to make out under his red, orange and green warpaint that he often wears as a sign of his wild, forested nature as well as his ferocity in combat. Like his cowlick, this warpaint often changes in appearance, sometimes being fairly minimalistic, but other times covering his entire body in intricate designs. It all depends on how he's feeling when he wakes up that morning. Finch's eyes are bright green and his voice carries surprisingly far for someone of his diminutive size. It is melodic but commanding, and his drunken rants can be heard over even the loudest of barfights. Finch's back is adorned with the dragonfly wings characteristic of his kind and he wears a suit of light armor made of wood from the ironbark tree, whose wood is as strong as metal. He wears nothing under this, but a pair of green undergarments. This is to allow as much pixie dust as possible to be released when he gets into dangerous situations. He carries two steel scimitars that appear to be elven-crafted specifically for somebody of his size.</s>
<|message|>Finch
"The unending battle between the urban and the natural is as old as history itself. Ever since sentient races began rebelling against that which had given them life, those who remained behind in the realm of the wild resented their relentless advances upon the forests and hills. First came the buildings, then came the towns and finally the cities, endlessly encroaching upon nature's greatest achievements. And now, that endless battle has come to our great forest. For the past 10 years, this colony city that borders upon our sacred forest has done nothing but grow, expand and prosper, all at the expense of our beautiful groves, our bountiful game. For years, the people of our two societies have bickered and conflict has risen."
The robed figure paused for a moment, briefly raising his head upward to view the other 7 figures gathered around the summoning circle. Simply standing in the circle's vicinity filled the hooded man with a strange feeling. It was something like power, but also like fear. A sort of mystical adrenaline rush. After considering this feeling for a moment, he continued, lowering his head once again.
"But no longer. It is true that we can not hope to take their filthy city from them. It is well fortified and we do not know their ways, nor their true numbers. But there are those who can assist us so as to make these observations irrelevant. Allies from the Abyssal Plane who will strike down our enemies and leav nothing behind but a trail of death and victory! And when the hated city-dwellers are gone, we shall return to elven society as heroes!"
A cheer broke out among the remaining seven as the lead elf thrust his fist into the air, firey zeal adorning his words.
"It is time, brothers. Let us summon our champion, draw our weapons and take back the lands that have been robbed from us!"
The elven cultists began their chant, their arms moving in sync as the practiced motions of the unholy ritual began to get faster and faster. The circle beneath their feet began to glow beneath them, at first a dull pink, but soon becoming a deep and menacing red. The head elf continued the ritual, chanting and motioning as the strange mystical adrenaline ran wild within him, his head spinning from the feeling of channeling a being of pure evil into his world. As the feeling grew, it began to change, the feeling of power leaving him and flowing into the center of the circle, leaving only the fear behind. However, he still did not stop the ritual.
He could not stop.
Oh god, why couldn't he stop?
As this terrifying realization came over the elf, he was wracked with excruciating pain as a man with skin red like blood and the size of two bears leapt toward him from the center of the circle and grasped his head with clawed hands wrapped in fire.
His screams were short-lived, the demon crushing his head after a moment of relishing in his agony. The monstrous creature turned to face the remaining cultists, all of whom were paralyzed with the same fear as their leader.
"Your foolish battles do not concern me," he spoke. "But do not worry. The city will burn. Just as the forest will burn. Just as all will burn. Just as you will burn."
As the screams of the warlocks filled the night, but even louder was the laughter of the demon, Gant'jen, as the flames began to spread and he moved towards the city.
----------------------------------------------
By morning, the demon was gone. The forest had been saved by its diligent denizens, but much had been lost to the fire.
In the nearby city, another fire had begun, but it had similarly been stopped before the utter destruction of the city.
Gant'jen had made himself known, and now he was on the loose. It was the war between these two societies that had released him. And now it was their responsibility to stop him before the rest of the world fell prey to his evil.
Our story begins a day later. Two champions, one from each community, have appeared. This is their story.</s>
<|message|>Finch
Finch fluttered toward the colony city with a solid 50 emotions buzzing about his head. The only thing buzzing louder than his thoughts were his wings as they carried him at top speed through the forest in order to meet the champion of the city-dwellers.
Finch didn't particularly want a partner, though he certainly understood that he would need one. Though he would never tell anyone, when the community came together and decided that he was their greatest warrior and should therefore be the one to take on this quest, the only thing he felt more that an arrogant pride was an overwhelming desire to piss his leafy pants.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" the pixie spouted as he moved effortlessly past a low hanging tree branch. He wasn't scared. After all, he fought stuff that was bigger than him all the time. They just usually weren't fire-wielding, world-destroying superbeings from literal Hell. No, he wasn't scared. He was just...wary?
Oh screw it, he was god damn terrified.
Finch swallowed his self-realization and steeled his gut as he approached the edge of the forest. He was better than this, damn it. He'd defended a wood elf family from a duo of werewolves, for goodness sake!
As his feet touched the ground and he began to step out of the forest's underbrush and walk toward the settlement, Finch was filled with resolve. His home had been scarred. His people frightened. His world put at risk. And it was his burden to bear now.
"Damn it."
Finch stepped out of the forest and began his walk to the city which was already within sight.</s>
<|message|>Vespasia
Vespasia walked back to the walls of New Minbenthac, her clawed feet gently treading over the soft, rich soil. Her clawed hands clutched a basket filled with healing herbs and mushrooms. She had been hatched in the colony's parent city of Minbenthac, back in the desert continent which the dracons called home. She was only a hatchling when her mother moved with Vespasia's uncle to the colony. They had lived together with her uncle's family, her mother living with her brother and his wife. She never knew her father, nor did her mother, but it was rumored that Vespasia's conception was the result of an affair between her mother and a powerful sorcerer, hence her powers.
She had lived with her family for eighteen years, helping to maintain an inn. She swept the floors, served food, even learned how to dance from her mother, although Vespasia was strictly forbidden from dancing for the patrons herself, lest she risk getting trapped in that kind of lifestyle. Upon reaching adulthood, she had been sent to learn to control her powers with the city's mage's guild. The governor of the city, known as the exarch, had sent out a call to the homeland, asking for magic users to help protect the city. Fewer than two dozen responded to the missive, and of those, half were apprentices.
As such, New Minbenthac had precious few wizards and sorcerers, and the city's exarch forbade most of them from accepting the mantle of champion, out of fear of losing them. The city's few clerics had made the exarch aware of the need for a champion, as they detected the emergence of the powerful demon less than a day after he emerged. Fresh from her apprenticeship, Vespasia had been granted the title of adept, although she knew that her skill wouldn't be considered fit for such a title back in the dracon lands. She entered through the city's southern gate and immediately proceeded to the guild hall to deposit them.
With her free hand, Vespasia waved at the door, releasing a bit of magic to loosen the enchanted locks. She heard a series of loud clicks, as expected. The door swung open and she saw that the overbuilt and cavernous hall was even emptier than usual. Apart from her, there was only one mage present at the time, the hall's keeper. Her clawed toes echoed against the cool stone as she walked over to him. Keeper Cassius was bent over a desk, clad in his usual black robes with the silver trim. He didn't even look up to meet her eyes as she put the basket down.
"Here's the herbs the guild master requested."
"Hmm? Oh, good. Right. You've done us a service, as usual." He reached down into a pouch and pulled out a few coins. "Your pay." Vespasia eagerly accepted the money, as she had precious little to spare.
"Thanks. I-I suppose this could be it. I'm not sure why they chose me to be a champion, but I'll do my best." Cassius continued writing as he spoke.
"Good luck, Vespy." With that, it was as if she no longer existed. Somewhat annoyed, she took off for the edge of the city, unsure of who she'd be expected to meet, only that the forest had chosen its champion. Exarch Aspion had promised a larger military response in the event of her failure, but he didn't really take the threat seriously. That, and New Minbenthac hardly had a strong army. The city guard was sufficient to man the walls and keep bandits away, but a force capable of striking out against a foe was a tall order.
She made her way to the outskirts of the city's western gate, clad in her usual light attire, armed only with her magic.</s>
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<|message|>Finch
Finch suddenly became keenly aware of his diminutive stature as the city of New Minbenthac grew in the distance with every step. His wings fluttered slightly as he ran a hand through his wild, untamable hair. Damn nervous habits. He hadn't felt this uneasy since his days as a mere initiate in the Verdant Recon. Finch knew very little about the city, or even really what a city was like. He had heard from an old wood elf that this city was actually a colony city and that the city from which it had been born was likely even larger and more viciously defended. The idea of a place bigger than this being made by the hands of people shook the pixie a bit, but he knew better than to doubt the old sage. If the elven people were capable of constructing such intricate networks of treehouses and lofts amongst the trees, perhaps other people had even greater skill. Still though, the idea of a place where wood and stone only existed because they were allowed to do so after being smashed and cut by man gave him a halfway uneasy feeling in his wings.
Finch put that uneasiness to rest as a new uneasiness reared up in the form of a figure approaching in the distance. Recognizing that he was now about halfway between the city and the forest, the agreed upon meeting point, Finch stopped and placed his gaze firmly in the direction of this newcomer. He puffed his chest out slightly and attempted to look fierce, but not too fierce. After all, he had to work with this person. Couldn't have them running off in fear at their first meeting.
Finch exhaled his held breath as he realized that the approaching figure in the distance was not a human as he had expected, but in fact some sort of dragon! The features had only suddenly become apparent to him, but he was suddenly able to ascertain that his presumed ally was none other than a two-legged dragon in city clothing. He had heard rumors that the residents of New Minbenthak were dragons, but he had believed that these were nothing but tales to scare the children and keep them away from the city folk. His stern, stalwart pose a bit shattered by this realization, Finch decided that he would take a friendlier approach. No reason to send himself on a trip to the healer before his adventure had even begun.
He wasn't sure if the approaching person had seen him yet due to his small size, so just in case, he decided to lean coolly against a boulder to his right and wait for them to approach with what little style he could salvage after his brief internal struggle.</s>
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<|description|>Vespasia
Age: 28
Race: Dracon
Gender: Female
Abilities: Sorcerous powers, mostly related to manipulating the four elements. Among other powers, she can throw fireballs of moderate power, produce small growth in plant life, generate water, and calm winds. She cannot control the weather or conduct lightning from her hands, however. In addition, she is a good dancer and reasonably skilled healer, even though her magic cannot heal others. As a sorceress, she was hatched with her powers, and she doesn't understand how they work, nor does she care to know. For her, magic is as much a part of her as her horns or her tail.
Appearance: Vespasia stands at about 5'5, which is normal for a female dracon. She is a bit shorter if one doesn't count her horns.
(I commissioned this for another character, but it works here.)
Equipment: Outside of her light clothing, Vespasia wears a belt with pouches to carry things like coins, and may reluctantly don a cloak in case of colder weather. She never uses footwear under any circumstances, and is mystified by the very concept.</s>
<|message|>Finch
"The unending battle between the urban and the natural is as old as history itself. Ever since sentient races began rebelling against that which had given them life, those who remained behind in the realm of the wild resented their relentless advances upon the forests and hills. First came the buildings, then came the towns and finally the cities, endlessly encroaching upon nature's greatest achievements. And now, that endless battle has come to our great forest. For the past 10 years, this colony city that borders upon our sacred forest has done nothing but grow, expand and prosper, all at the expense of our beautiful groves, our bountiful game. For years, the people of our two societies have bickered and conflict has risen."
The robed figure paused for a moment, briefly raising his head upward to view the other 7 figures gathered around the summoning circle. Simply standing in the circle's vicinity filled the hooded man with a strange feeling. It was something like power, but also like fear. A sort of mystical adrenaline rush. After considering this feeling for a moment, he continued, lowering his head once again.
"But no longer. It is true that we can not hope to take their filthy city from them. It is well fortified and we do not know their ways, nor their true numbers. But there are those who can assist us so as to make these observations irrelevant. Allies from the Abyssal Plane who will strike down our enemies and leav nothing behind but a trail of death and victory! And when the hated city-dwellers are gone, we shall return to elven society as heroes!"
A cheer broke out among the remaining seven as the lead elf thrust his fist into the air, firey zeal adorning his words.
"It is time, brothers. Let us summon our champion, draw our weapons and take back the lands that have been robbed from us!"
The elven cultists began their chant, their arms moving in sync as the practiced motions of the unholy ritual began to get faster and faster. The circle beneath their feet began to glow beneath them, at first a dull pink, but soon becoming a deep and menacing red. The head elf continued the ritual, chanting and motioning as the strange mystical adrenaline ran wild within him, his head spinning from the feeling of channeling a being of pure evil into his world. As the feeling grew, it began to change, the feeling of power leaving him and flowing into the center of the circle, leaving only the fear behind. However, he still did not stop the ritual.
He could not stop.
Oh god, why couldn't he stop?
As this terrifying realization came over the elf, he was wracked with excruciating pain as a man with skin red like blood and the size of two bears leapt toward him from the center of the circle and grasped his head with clawed hands wrapped in fire.
His screams were short-lived, the demon crushing his head after a moment of relishing in his agony. The monstrous creature turned to face the remaining cultists, all of whom were paralyzed with the same fear as their leader.
"Your foolish battles do not concern me," he spoke. "But do not worry. The city will burn. Just as the forest will burn. Just as all will burn. Just as you will burn."
As the screams of the warlocks filled the night, but even louder was the laughter of the demon, Gant'jen, as the flames began to spread and he moved towards the city.
----------------------------------------------
By morning, the demon was gone. The forest had been saved by its diligent denizens, but much had been lost to the fire.
In the nearby city, another fire had begun, but it had similarly been stopped before the utter destruction of the city.
Gant'jen had made himself known, and now he was on the loose. It was the war between these two societies that had released him. And now it was their responsibility to stop him before the rest of the world fell prey to his evil.
Our story begins a day later. Two champions, one from each community, have appeared. This is their story.</s>
<|message|>Finch
Finch fluttered toward the colony city with a solid 50 emotions buzzing about his head. The only thing buzzing louder than his thoughts were his wings as they carried him at top speed through the forest in order to meet the champion of the city-dwellers.
Finch didn't particularly want a partner, though he certainly understood that he would need one. Though he would never tell anyone, when the community came together and decided that he was their greatest warrior and should therefore be the one to take on this quest, the only thing he felt more that an arrogant pride was an overwhelming desire to piss his leafy pants.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" the pixie spouted as he moved effortlessly past a low hanging tree branch. He wasn't scared. After all, he fought stuff that was bigger than him all the time. They just usually weren't fire-wielding, world-destroying superbeings from literal Hell. No, he wasn't scared. He was just...wary?
Oh screw it, he was god damn terrified.
Finch swallowed his self-realization and steeled his gut as he approached the edge of the forest. He was better than this, damn it. He'd defended a wood elf family from a duo of werewolves, for goodness sake!
As his feet touched the ground and he began to step out of the forest's underbrush and walk toward the settlement, Finch was filled with resolve. His home had been scarred. His people frightened. His world put at risk. And it was his burden to bear now.
"Damn it."
Finch stepped out of the forest and began his walk to the city which was already within sight.</s>
<|message|>Vespasia
Vespasia walked back to the walls of New Minbenthac, her clawed feet gently treading over the soft, rich soil. Her clawed hands clutched a basket filled with healing herbs and mushrooms. She had been hatched in the colony's parent city of Minbenthac, back in the desert continent which the dracons called home. She was only a hatchling when her mother moved with Vespasia's uncle to the colony. They had lived together with her uncle's family, her mother living with her brother and his wife. She never knew her father, nor did her mother, but it was rumored that Vespasia's conception was the result of an affair between her mother and a powerful sorcerer, hence her powers.
She had lived with her family for eighteen years, helping to maintain an inn. She swept the floors, served food, even learned how to dance from her mother, although Vespasia was strictly forbidden from dancing for the patrons herself, lest she risk getting trapped in that kind of lifestyle. Upon reaching adulthood, she had been sent to learn to control her powers with the city's mage's guild. The governor of the city, known as the exarch, had sent out a call to the homeland, asking for magic users to help protect the city. Fewer than two dozen responded to the missive, and of those, half were apprentices.
As such, New Minbenthac had precious few wizards and sorcerers, and the city's exarch forbade most of them from accepting the mantle of champion, out of fear of losing them. The city's few clerics had made the exarch aware of the need for a champion, as they detected the emergence of the powerful demon less than a day after he emerged. Fresh from her apprenticeship, Vespasia had been granted the title of adept, although she knew that her skill wouldn't be considered fit for such a title back in the dracon lands. She entered through the city's southern gate and immediately proceeded to the guild hall to deposit them.
With her free hand, Vespasia waved at the door, releasing a bit of magic to loosen the enchanted locks. She heard a series of loud clicks, as expected. The door swung open and she saw that the overbuilt and cavernous hall was even emptier than usual. Apart from her, there was only one mage present at the time, the hall's keeper. Her clawed toes echoed against the cool stone as she walked over to him. Keeper Cassius was bent over a desk, clad in his usual black robes with the silver trim. He didn't even look up to meet her eyes as she put the basket down.
"Here's the herbs the guild master requested."
"Hmm? Oh, good. Right. You've done us a service, as usual." He reached down into a pouch and pulled out a few coins. "Your pay." Vespasia eagerly accepted the money, as she had precious little to spare.
"Thanks. I-I suppose this could be it. I'm not sure why they chose me to be a champion, but I'll do my best." Cassius continued writing as he spoke.
"Good luck, Vespy." With that, it was as if she no longer existed. Somewhat annoyed, she took off for the edge of the city, unsure of who she'd be expected to meet, only that the forest had chosen its champion. Exarch Aspion had promised a larger military response in the event of her failure, but he didn't really take the threat seriously. That, and New Minbenthac hardly had a strong army. The city guard was sufficient to man the walls and keep bandits away, but a force capable of striking out against a foe was a tall order.
She made her way to the outskirts of the city's western gate, clad in her usual light attire, armed only with her magic.</s>
<|message|>Finch
Finch suddenly became keenly aware of his diminutive stature as the city of New Minbenthac grew in the distance with every step. His wings fluttered slightly as he ran a hand through his wild, untamable hair. Damn nervous habits. He hadn't felt this uneasy since his days as a mere initiate in the Verdant Recon. Finch knew very little about the city, or even really what a city was like. He had heard from an old wood elf that this city was actually a colony city and that the city from which it had been born was likely even larger and more viciously defended. The idea of a place bigger than this being made by the hands of people shook the pixie a bit, but he knew better than to doubt the old sage. If the elven people were capable of constructing such intricate networks of treehouses and lofts amongst the trees, perhaps other people had even greater skill. Still though, the idea of a place where wood and stone only existed because they were allowed to do so after being smashed and cut by man gave him a halfway uneasy feeling in his wings.
Finch put that uneasiness to rest as a new uneasiness reared up in the form of a figure approaching in the distance. Recognizing that he was now about halfway between the city and the forest, the agreed upon meeting point, Finch stopped and placed his gaze firmly in the direction of this newcomer. He puffed his chest out slightly and attempted to look fierce, but not too fierce. After all, he had to work with this person. Couldn't have them running off in fear at their first meeting.
Finch exhaled his held breath as he realized that the approaching figure in the distance was not a human as he had expected, but in fact some sort of dragon! The features had only suddenly become apparent to him, but he was suddenly able to ascertain that his presumed ally was none other than a two-legged dragon in city clothing. He had heard rumors that the residents of New Minbenthak were dragons, but he had believed that these were nothing but tales to scare the children and keep them away from the city folk. His stern, stalwart pose a bit shattered by this realization, Finch decided that he would take a friendlier approach. No reason to send himself on a trip to the healer before his adventure had even begun.
He wasn't sure if the approaching person had seen him yet due to his small size, so just in case, he decided to lean coolly against a boulder to his right and wait for them to approach with what little style he could salvage after his brief internal struggle.</s>
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<|message|>Vespasia
Vespasia saw what appeared to a pixie approaching. No, not a pixie, a fairy. A sprite? Brownie? Mite? Imp? No, it was one of the woodland fae, even as she was not quite sure what to call him. She saw him lean against a boulder as she looked at the little winged humanoid. It was indeed a pixie.
"Er... hi there! I'm Vespasia." She looked around for a moment, not quite sure how this was going. She lifted up her right foot, bending it back for a moment as she used her left hand to gently rub the soft sole. She put the limb back down as she continued to speak. "I'm from New Minbenthac. I... I guess you are the forest's champion?"</s>
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<|description|>James Carson
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Height: 6'3"
Species: Human
Role: Security(Chief of Security)
Affiliation:
Relationship Status: Single
Appearance:
Facts/Backstory: - Born on Hephaestus to family of miners.
- He was abducted at the age of 2 by the United Earth Coalition as a part of a super-human creation program.
- A great deal of experimental drugs were inserted into him to make him pain-resistant and to suppress his emotions to make him a fearless and obedient soldier in combat.
- As he grew, he surpassed the expectations of the scientists in charge of the secret project, with him showing strength(both physical and mental) above most of the other people part of the experiment.
- At the age of 26, just before he was about to be released into society, they had placed a small chip to override his brain to take control of him during times he was needed.
- The UEC manipulated documents and such to get him to become the new Chief of Security on the planet of Volturnus.
Weapons:
Standard grade laser assault rifle, laser pistol, a lethal 6.000 V shock baton, a military combat knife
Skills:
Super Strength- Not exactly a skill, but more an effect due to the drugs and many other things inserted in him, he has strength that is higher than that of most other human beings.
Suppressed Emotions- Again, not a skill, but more of a effect of the drugs he was injected with. His emotions have not been completely eliminated, but it takes a great deal to make him angry, scared or even happy.
Combat Training: The project he was part of trained him into all sorts of combat techniques, from actual training with long-range weapons, to melee combat, to even a few martial arts to drive him to a physical peak</s>
<|message|>Aubrey Lochlan
Listen to me first!!!
Aubrey looked up from the recording apparatus and smiled at the brightly decorated azure bird before picking up one of the smaller crates and carrying it into the temporary shell of a lab. After a year on the Nepra, it was refreshing to be able to walk about in the fresh, open air. It was also nice that there was a breeze at the moment, never something that was on Hephaestus. If there was wind, you had to get inside before a sandstorm or electrical storm reached you. Aubrey shook her head of the thoughts about her home planet, while she missed her family, she most certainly didn't miss the heat and sunburns.
Unpacking the crate, she set up the testing equipment first before moving onto getting the computers unpacked, leaving them for Alden to set up when he had the chance. Most of the necessary equipment was set up now so she could get some basic testing done, like finding what plants were safe and which weren't. And she knew just where to start. She grabbed her testing gear and headed back towards the Nepra where she had seen what appeared to be some sort of fruit tree, waving to Lucia as she checked over the large vehicular equipment.</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Alden was still aboard the large ship, checking over logs of what needed to be moved first and when. It wasn't exactly his job, but he liked order, not wanting to get in the way of others trying to unpack at the same time he was. With careful planning, he managed to bring his own things to the new prefab shelter. Gathering what he had, he set his things down within the room he and Aubrey would be sharing.
In the distance, the three security Cyborgs that had been sent along for their protection were doing a sweep, securing the many things they had set up as well as marking locations for construction and habitation.</s>
<|message|>James Carson
James looked with a rather empty look at the new terrain and at the new wildlife. Where one might have been excited of the new terrain, he felt nothing. Where one saw beauty in the new large animals, he only saw potential threats that would attack them. For him, this planet was as exciting as the the science labs he was tested in... or the far off and distant memories of Hephaestus. He shook his head, and left the ship.
"Everyone, secure a perimeter around the base!" he ordered all the people and cyborgs part of the security team. He took a deep breath and found the air here to be... cleaner than the test labs he was placed in. He felt a tinge of excitement going through him as he heard the calls of all sorts of different animals, so many new sounds, so many new sights. Even if they were potential threats, it felt a bit exciting to see all these new creatures.</s>
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
The beauty of the pure, untouched planet struck Ruby Indigo as she strolled out of the ship, ILP-221 strapped firmly to her waist. The planet may look beautiful and happy as can be, though there wasn't much to be said against taking a little extra protection. The beautiful birds that stared at them could easily be carnivores, and just wondering what the new meat would taste like. People arriving in ships might just be their equivalent of tinned meat.
It was hard to think of them as hostile, though. The birds made Ruby light up in delight, and even though she knew she had a job to do, she just wanted to sit and watch them. Taking her datapad off of her belt, she lifted it and began to record the surroundings, speaking into the microphone in Zenospeak, the language of Zenohunts, and recording what she thought of the surroundings as well as any implications that would affect landing on the planet.
Just as she clicked off the button for recording, Ruby heard the chief of security order a perimeter around the base. She rolled her eyes in perhaps a childish manner. "Is someone getting scared that the birds are gonna eat him?" Ruby called over to him with a giggle.</s>
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<|message|>James Carson
As soon as he heard the girl speak to him, all the excitement vanished, he had to be serious now. He turned towards the girl and looked at her for a few moments, as if he was a computer scanning something, before turning back towards the jungle as if expecting something to pop out of the forest and attack them.
"Not me, young lady, my meat is tough and hard to chew." He answered in a factual manner. "Though I imagine that you would be tender and easy to eat." He said to the girl in a quite casual manner. "But do not worry, my lady, it is my job to make sure that you do not end up in some creature's stomach."
After those words came out, he turned towards the girl after determining that nothing was going to attack them. "So please, if you feel something threatens you, then I am here to protect you." He said with a blank smile, his comment didn't feel reassuring, it felt more like he was stating a fact.</s>
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<|description|>James Carson
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Height: 6'3"
Species: Human
Role: Security(Chief of Security)
Affiliation:
Relationship Status: Single
Appearance:
Facts/Backstory: - Born on Hephaestus to family of miners.
- He was abducted at the age of 2 by the United Earth Coalition as a part of a super-human creation program.
- A great deal of experimental drugs were inserted into him to make him pain-resistant and to suppress his emotions to make him a fearless and obedient soldier in combat.
- As he grew, he surpassed the expectations of the scientists in charge of the secret project, with him showing strength(both physical and mental) above most of the other people part of the experiment.
- At the age of 26, just before he was about to be released into society, they had placed a small chip to override his brain to take control of him during times he was needed.
- The UEC manipulated documents and such to get him to become the new Chief of Security on the planet of Volturnus.
Weapons:
Standard grade laser assault rifle, laser pistol, a lethal 6.000 V shock baton, a military combat knife
Skills:
Super Strength- Not exactly a skill, but more an effect due to the drugs and many other things inserted in him, he has strength that is higher than that of most other human beings.
Suppressed Emotions- Again, not a skill, but more of a effect of the drugs he was injected with. His emotions have not been completely eliminated, but it takes a great deal to make him angry, scared or even happy.
Combat Training: The project he was part of trained him into all sorts of combat techniques, from actual training with long-range weapons, to melee combat, to even a few martial arts to drive him to a physical peak</s>
<|message|>Aubrey Lochlan
Mentioned: @Metadude
"Biology's computers are all spread on the work bench for you if you need a place to get started," Aubrey said with a smile and then pecked him on the lips and lightly pushed away to get a move on. "Fine, I'll be careful, I won't even leave the perimeter, promise." With that, she gave Alden a final grin and bolted off to explore. Even if the area where they could go for now wasn't very big, it was still exciting!
New plants, new animals, new everything! Maybe there would even be something here to help medicine make leaps and bounds or maybe inspire new forms of transportation! The possibilities were endless and she would start with the small, purple bush with what looked like a type of grey berry on it. She knelt down and opened her kit, slipping on some gloves and pulling out a container to collect a few.
---
Mentioned: @Nevix
Lucia rolled her eyes at the love birds and looked at her equipment roster, spotting the crate number for the exam beds. And she found her first delivery of the day. She walked over to the crate and grabbed a levdolly, sliding it into the crate's grooves and turning it on before pushing it over to the medical tent, just in time to hear Thomas tell his nurses to flirt later.
"They're just kids having fun, you remember fun don't you?" She asked with a grin, powering the dolly off and walking in. "I found the exam beds and figure you'd want to get them set up."</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Mentioned: @Claw2k11
Leaving Aubrey alone, Alden went to collect more tech from the ship, requesting help from other tech staff as he directed them on where it needed to go. With their aid, he had a very basic network established between the ship, the camp and now their Security division. The three Cyborgs paused, receiving the new uplink as they too connected with the datapad James owned, giving him an easier time communicating with the Trio when out of visual or audio range.
"Sir, A-01 reporting in. Confirming uplink" stated the Cyborg, coming through as both audio and text for the Man.</s>
<|message|>James Carson
James Carson
"Do not worry, I will have a close perimeter, I don't want to risk men on protecting a too large territory." he said to the man, looking as the men spread out. "I will have the fence set in less than two hours... after all, it would be bad if something were to sneak in our camp at night and steal something... or attack one of us."
"Well..." he started thinking, what would this young woman be able to do now... nothing really, but he couldn't really tell that to her, it would probably hurt her feelings... or so he thought. "Well, if you're willing, we could explore our surroundings a bit, get to know our territory... if you so wish."
"You three, set up a perimeter around the base." he orders the Trio. "As soon as you're done, make sure to inform the rest of the security team where they should set up the protective fences, after all, we don't want to overextend ourselves, understood?" he says to the cyborgs, for which he could feel a sort of sympathy towards.
While his physical body was still human, he was mentally a machine, his emotions had been suppressed, his senses and strength had been improved to be ten times more effective than of a human. He could feel an odd connection to them... he couldn't explains what it was, but he thought it was called empathy, or something similar.</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Mentioned: @Claw2k11
"Perimeter already secured" A-01 informed the man "Requesting verification to enable defensive barrier.". The Cyborgs were receiving orders they had already completed, Meta and Cuddles paid no attention to it, but A-01 was cursed with a higher level of intelligence. Interpreting the commands, A-01 had the other two recheck the perimeter while he awaited authorization to enable the barriers</s>
<|message|>James Carson
"Enable barriers and allow nobody to leave unless they have my express permission." he ordered the two. They still had to be cautious of the wildlife in their first days here, who knows what dangers lurked around here and who knows how dangerous they were to humans. "If anyone demands to exit the barred area, contact me." he said to A-01, before turning back, to explore the surroundings with Ruby, it would take his mind off his duties for a few precious moments at least.</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Mentioned: @Claw2k11
"Order Confirmed.", with that, A-01 enabled the barriers. Creating a thin dome of energy over the whole camp. "I will re-rout all communication with designations, A-01, A-09 and C-13 to Chief of Security, James Carson.". The three Cyborgs patrolled the barrier, only one of them ever leaving their post of the Humans needed help with heavy lifting.</s>
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
"Well, I guess so," Ruby replied to James' suggestion that they could explore. It would give her a chance to explore the local area. She paused as he started to order the cyborgs to enable the barriers, and Ruby started to eye them with some curiosity. They were, in her opinion, quite strange. They looked capable, yet at the same time she could not help but think they were all look and talk, but no fight.
Shrugging to herself, Ruby turned to have a staring contest with a beautiful bird. She won, the bird obviously did not know it was a contest, with a smile, before turning to James. "This place is beautiful."</s>
<|message|>Thomas Dunn
Thomas Dunn
---
Mentioned: Lucia- @Raptor
---
"Kids?" He said, cocking an eyebrow. It had never occurred to him to think of his nurses as kids, but he supposed they were seven years younger than him. "Huh. Damn. We're old, aren't we?" He let out a quick laugh. "That's a troubling thought." He looked at the crates that contained the exam-beds. He smiled. "Oh, wonderful." He turned to the mechanic, clapping his hands together. "You are a saint, Lucia." He tried to pick up one of the crates, and struggled. He rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt. He whistled. "Oi! Daveth, I need a hand with this. Alicia, clear out some space."
"On it, Doc!" They chorused, giggling. Thomas sighed. Moving the crates around was a righteous pain in the ass, but luckily, the bed themselves were easy to set up. When they'd finished up, he wiped some sweat off his brow. He was tired, and so were Daveth and Alicia. He sighed.
"You two, take a break. Long as you need, but try to be back in an hour. Anyone gives you shit about it, tell them to talk to me. Unless it's Carson. If Carson gives you shit about it, you tell him you're sorry, and you come right back here." He said, in a semi-joking manner. There wasn't a lot that scared him, but that machine-in-men's-clothing was somewhere far beyond intimidating. He limped over to Lucia. "I've got the 'kids' off my back for an hour or so. You need help with anything?"</s>
<|message|>James Carson
"Yes... and dangerous." his instincts as a super-soldier kicked in as he placed a hand casually on his assault rifle. "That bird could gobble up almost anyone here... if I weren't here." though he didn't know it, for a brief moment, a prideful smile formed on his lips. "We should continue our exploration..." he said and moved past the bird at a respectable distance.
"Say... were you born on Hephaestus?" he asked, seemingly trying to make a conversation, though again, his voice lacked any actual emotions.</s>
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
"Dangerous, but doesn't danger have it's own beauties?" Ruby asked, before going on to reply to his next comment. "Hey, I thought almost the same thing. Us coming here in a ship," she took a moment to wave vaguely in the direction of the ship, "-Might be the equivalent of a grocery delivery. Tinned meat." She followed James on his path as he walked past the bird.
"Hephaestus? Nah, I was born on Kepler-17x. Whatever deity is up there, if there even is one, probably decided to look into my future before placing me in my mother's womb. He or she saw I was going to be a military girl, and decided to place me on a non-Zenohunt world so I'd have to wait for longer to get into the nearest Zenohunt recruitment building," Ruby grinned. "As it is, they probably skipped over the part where my parents died and Zenohunt Intelligence picked me up. I probably won't ever be picked up for Zenofighter training, it's rare anyone actually is, but I do have a shot at transferring to another section of the military if I actually want to."
"How about you, where you from?" Ruby asked to further the conversation, even though she already knew. Perhaps he would tell her something she wouldn't know.</s>
<|message|>Kari (Kah-Ree) Sabaan (Say-Bahn)
The more that Kari collected her samples, the more she found small groupings of the same things. Not uncommon at all. Simple stuff, from what she has studied back home and on the ship. However, it did remind her of her situation. It was her decision in the end, after all. She was the only Mynua from her settlement on the entire ship. There were only a handful that had the honor of being apart of the expedition. Her people weren't horribly Xenophobic, but they were not completely welcoming of new people.
She really should talk to some people.
She felt that she had collected enough samples. Her pincers were just maneuverable enough for her to place everything that she had chipped away so neatly and carefully into the little containers on the pouch attached to her waist. She could return to the ship and get to cracking on those rocks. She giggled to herself. Even after all of this time, she was still so young at heart. She still had a long way to go, though. Due to the nature of her species and how they lived, they could be alive for quite a long time.
Kari needed to stop herself, though. She needed to go out and talk to the others. She had been a bit of a... A. Spider. The Brown one. The word escaped her. It didn't like people. She'd have to ask one of the Human crew members if they knew what it was. Bottom line, she didn't talk to the crew as much as she should have, especially as the Ambassador for the Mynua. Well, unofficial Ambassador. She needed to be friendly with the peoples. So many Kasha, she assumed. So many people away from their homes. Maybe she would find something in common with them, if she could only urge herself to actually go and talk to someone.
She wanted to speak. She really did. The only thing she did, though was just stand around on two legs awkwardly, looking for someone to talk to. Maybe she could go back on the ship and find someone on the way to her lab. Maybe she could just take a minute to walk around and get to know some of the people that she would be talking to in the near future.
For now, she just... sorta stood around, bouncing on her digitigrade legs. They were so thin, so bony and skinny. The mid layer of her skin practically didn't exist down there, other than where her legs bent, of course. It was a little weird, sometimes she was on her hands and legs, and sometimes just her legs. Human's didn't seem to do that. They didn't seem to be much for climbing through caves, though. She wanted to know more about them.
But she was rambling, keeping herself from actually talking to people. Maybe those Zenohunts first. She just didn't know what to do!</s>
|
<|message|>James Carson
He listened with some interest, which was something odd, considering that his emotions were heavily suppressed. As soon as she asked him about himself, he thought for a moment if he was allowed to say everything that had transpired in his life, but in the end he shrugged and answered.
"I was born on Hephaestus to a family of miners, I was abducted at an early age by some secret governmental organization that was bent on turning people into super-soldiers." he said, when he felt a small shock of pain, nothing he couldn't handle. "So they enhanced my strength, my mind, all of my senses and they even heavily suppressed my emotions so that I wouldn't feel fear in battle." he spoke, with the pain getting stronger each second he spoke about his past, even so, it was still way below his pain threshold to hurt him significantly. "They made more enhancements to my body while I was asleep so I do not know what they were... anyway, after a countless number of years, they decided to place me into this expedition, using their governmental positions to place me here as chief of security, though it is beyond my understanding why they would do so."
As soon as he stopped speaking, the pain slowly started to subside. "Wait... why did you choose to come here if you had the luxury of choice to go wherever in military you wished?"</s>
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<|description|>James Carson
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Height: 6'3"
Species: Human
Role: Security(Chief of Security)
Affiliation:
Relationship Status: Single
Appearance:
Facts/Backstory: - Born on Hephaestus to family of miners.
- He was abducted at the age of 2 by the United Earth Coalition as a part of a super-human creation program.
- A great deal of experimental drugs were inserted into him to make him pain-resistant and to suppress his emotions to make him a fearless and obedient soldier in combat.
- As he grew, he surpassed the expectations of the scientists in charge of the secret project, with him showing strength(both physical and mental) above most of the other people part of the experiment.
- At the age of 26, just before he was about to be released into society, they had placed a small chip to override his brain to take control of him during times he was needed.
- The UEC manipulated documents and such to get him to become the new Chief of Security on the planet of Volturnus.
Weapons:
Standard grade laser assault rifle, laser pistol, a lethal 6.000 V shock baton, a military combat knife
Skills:
Super Strength- Not exactly a skill, but more an effect due to the drugs and many other things inserted in him, he has strength that is higher than that of most other human beings.
Suppressed Emotions- Again, not a skill, but more of a effect of the drugs he was injected with. His emotions have not been completely eliminated, but it takes a great deal to make him angry, scared or even happy.
Combat Training: The project he was part of trained him into all sorts of combat techniques, from actual training with long-range weapons, to melee combat, to even a few martial arts to drive him to a physical peak</s>
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
Interest sparked within Ruby as the chief of security spoke about being abducted and placed into a super-soldier program. She took mental notes as he went on to explain what the organisation did to him: From what she could recall, the files only described him as a normal soldier, nothing that special about him, even though there were some subnotes including suspicion about his capabilities. The suspicion seemed justified, Ruby could check some boxes when she had a moment.
James then asked Ruby why she chose to come on the expedition. "Oh, you don't understand, I can go to any section or the military or remain a true intelligence person, but I have little leeway when it comes to deployment," she says.</s>
<|message|>Aubrey Lochlan
Mentioned: @Nevix
"No, you're old, I'm wise. Never been called a saint before though," Lucia said with a smirk. "And you could've asked and used the dolly to do most of the hard work." She pushed off from the previously mentioned dolly she'd been leaning against and walked over with a cheshirelike grin. "I've got some time before making anymore deliveries, so how about a friendly game of poker? I'll try to go easy on you this time."
She produced a deck of cards from one of the many pockets on her cargo pants and moved over to the table, starting to shuffle the deck. "So, excited to be on a new, possibly hostile planet?" She asked, now trying to make idle conversation as she began to deal. "Five card draw or Texas Hold'em?"
---
Mentioned: @pyroman
Aubrey hummed while she worked, finished with taking samples from the bush and moving on to find some other possibly food bearing plant. She found a tree and scowled for a moment as the looked up to what appeared to be something like a giant seed pod hanging in groupings of five. Well that wasn't good, she didn't have a ladder and there weren't any smaller trees near by. She was close to the Nepra though, maybe there was something she could use from the ship to help? She sighed and turned to start walking, pausing as she spotted Kari, grinning.
"Kari, perfect!" She said happily and started over to the Mynua. "Hey there, having fun?" Aubrey asked with a friendly smile.</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Alden continued to work with the computers, enhancing their network and bugstomping for errors. Normally, you wouldn't need to do such a thing, but with so many different systems and requirements, it was a must, especially on an alien world without easy access to the main Planetary network. "Just... a little... more" cooed the man softly, tweaking part of the software to run more efficiently on the power available "Gotcha" sighed Alden with relief. The systems were slightly slower, but they had less power draw on the other parts of their camp, keeping the barrier stable at all times. He would rather slow computers over a slow death any day.</s>
<|message|>Thomas Dunn
Thomas Dunn
---
"Five card draw? I look like an amateur to you?" He said, cocking an eyebrow as he sat down in his chair, immediately tipping it back on two legs. He thought about the mechanic's earlier question. "Excited, eh? To be on a new planet? Maybe a little bit. Hostile? That's got me intrigued. If we're being frank, I miss the military, I miss danger." He smirked. "Or, at least, I'll miss it right up until some alien-thing is eating my kidneys." He got his cards and smiled. Pocket Jacks. There were, of course, three cards on the table, at the moment. A king, a four, and a six. The fourth card was another king. The corner of his mouth twitched into something resembling a smile. He didn't fold. He glared at the deck.
Come on, you rat bastard! He mentally shouted at the cards. Give me a Jack. I need a Jack, or a king. Come on, come on, c'mon, comeoncomecomeon!
It was a five. Thomas groaned, laying down his cards.
"Two pair. Jacks and Kings." He said, dejectedly. "I was this close. Could have had a full house."</s>
<|message|>Kari (Kah-Ree) Sabaan (Say-Bahn)
"Hey there, having fun?"
She had been so mixed up in just standing around to notice that someone had been calling for attention. Kari looked to the Human who had addressed her. It was Audrey, resident biologist, who had some to her rescue. The visor that had once covered a great portion of her face slipping up and behind her, revealing a face quite similar to a Humans, but with angles as sharp as rocks. Kari smiled, her eyes yellow and reminiscent of a Human Cat's shining.
"Very much so." She nodded. Her pincers clipped at the pouch at her side. "It's so exciting to be on an uncharted world. There's so much to find here!" She was a long way from home, but she was enjoying it. Aubrey, from Kari's memory, was also born on Hephaestus. However, due to their differing species, they probably had different memories of home. "It's a long way from Home. All of us together, we aren't Kasha, but we are wanderers on an unknown land."</s>
<|message|>James Carson
"I see..." James says, as if pondering the situation at hand. As they walked, they reached the barrier that the three cyborg's have set. Simply out of human instinct, James just sighs and turns to Ruby. "Well, it seems our exploring duty must be cut short for today." he says, knowing that he should at least smile to the girl, yet his body did not feel the need to do this.
"Let's go, or the people back there might be a bit pissed that we are not helping them unload." this time, he did briefly smile, but his natural suppression of these kinds of emotions took over and his face returned his usual emotionless self. After a few more moments of silence, heading back towards the base, James asks. "What do you think of me so far?" he asks, slightly curious as to what this woman thought of him, despite the fact that normally he should not think about these sort of things.</s>
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
"Yeah, I guess," Ruby replied, once they had reached the barrier. She giggled at James' remark about the unloading: It was true enough. His next question caught her off guard, though. What does she think of him? Is he genuinely asking, or is he trying to make himself look good for me? Her face lit up red. He is handsome, for a human, she thought to herself, her tail swishing behind her as she stared at him for a moment.
Her face turned a tiny more red as she realized what she was thinking about, and she quickly broke her gaze away. "O-Oh, well, you seem good," Ruby says with a small giggle. "Competent. Cool." She adds on, whilst walking.</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Mentioned: @Claw2k11
A-09, also referred to as "Cuddles" by a young girl before his deployment, had observed his Security Chief interacting with the non-Human he knew as Ruby. He could detect small variations in their temperature as they spoke, but otherwise ignored it. Approaching, he patiently waited until he had the Chief's attention before speaking. "Sir, barrier is running at optimal settings. Seeking new instructions." he greeted, holding the SMG in his hands loosely, finger not on the trigger.
Meanwhile, Alden had run back onto the ship, gathering more equipment to bring down to their small camp. He was transporting food fabricators now for their cooks, needing to link them up into the main network as well so those working could make an order while on duty instead of leaving their posts. The three Cyborgs and their Security Chief took priority for meals as they needed their strength to work effectively should anything dangerous occur.</s>
<|message|>Aubrey Lochlan
Mentioned: @Nevix
Lucia looked at her cards and frowned, a 3 and an ace. Well this was a shitty hand. She sighed as the next card showed a 5. Well shitty hand indeed, good thing they weren't gambling. She slapped her cards face up on the table and glared at them before looking up to Thomas.
"Well, it's better than this, if there was a pot, you'd have won it," She muttered before gathering the cards up and then handing them over to him so he could shuffle and deal the next round. "So, your nurses still acting like lovesick schoolkids?"
---
Mentioned: @pyroman
"That's good, find anything interesting?" Aubrey asked as she walked closer, having to crane her head back to look Kari in the face.
Even though she grew up on Hephaestus, Aubrey never really got to know Kari's people, she knew about them but was really too busy with schooling to socialize with any of the family groups. She looked back briefly to where her testing kit was and then looked back to the Mynua. Meh, she could ask Alden to haul a ladder out here for her later. 'Kasha', the word made Aubrey's head tilt to the side in thought.
"Kasha, does that mean family?" She asked curiously.</s>
<|message|>Thomas Dunn
Thomas Dunn
---
- Lucia
---
Thomas brightened immediately, pumping his fist.
"Yes!" He shouted, perhaps louder than he should have. "Now, I finally have enough imaginary money for my imaginary yacht!" He grinned, taking in the cards and shuffling professionally. When he finished, he burned a card, then laid three on the table. He dealt one card to himself, and one to Lucia, one more to himself, and one more to her. He thought, pondering her question. "They're probably doing something romantic, like looking for a nice place to watch the sunset." He said, chuckling. "The thing is, I couldn't care less about their romance, I just wish they would make it a romance already. All of this, and they have the gall to suggest that they're just friends." He turned over his cards, sighing. A two and a king. They were both clubs, though. He could make something of this. He looked at the flop. Jack of Hearts, Seven of Diamonds, Six of Diamonds. He sighed again.
Or, not.
"I dunno, I'm beginning to think that I'm subconsciously living vicariously through them." He said, scratching the back of his hand as he dealt out the next card. Two of Diamonds. "It's like watching one of those old soap operas. But, after a year of watching, I'm growing tired of the old 'will-they, won't-they' game." He flipped over the last card. Eight of Hearts. He laid out his cards. "Pair of two's." He said. "We all got to keep entertained somehow. How do you do it? Do you give your tools names, and act out complex story lines?" He put on a stage-feminine voice. "'Oh, Erik the Drill! How I long to be with you!'" He snickered, before putting on a deep, masculine voice. "'Alas, Jane the Screwdriver, it is not meant to be."</s>
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<|message|>James Carson
A slight smile appeared on his face appears as he saw the girl's face turn red and her tail started to swish around. "Well, it seems you are rather bashful!" he said, as slight grin formed on his lips. "And here I thought I was made to be a warrior not a Casanova!" his grin widened, in the back of his mind he wondered if the emotional suppressing had been broken since he could feel emotions so vivid.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Then after we unload everything, maybe we could have some fun!" he said, with a rather devious smile on his face. "If you agree, I'll carry all of the things you are supposed to carrying as well!" and though he would carry her things either way, the rather raunchy joke would serve lighten the mood.
With the smile on his face quickly vanishing, he looks at "Cuddles". "Help the others unload, then announce me when the food is prepared." he says, looking at the cyborg with his usual blank stare. "I will take the first night shift tonight, I need to stretch for a bit." he says looking at the other cyborg's.
Though he was mostly human, most of the people on the trip here considered that both him and the robots to be the same in the sense that both of them mostly lacked emotions, which he imagined that didn't make him very well liked among the people. This in return made him feel a bit of empathy for the cyborgs, even if they were as different from them as Ruby was different from the cyborgs themselves.</s>
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<|description|>Ruby Indigo
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Height: 5'3"
Species: Zenohunts are almost similar to Humans apart from the fact that they often have some minor changes in personality based on their animal traits; Zenohunts have some features of animals, let that be a tail or ears. They sometimes vary, some having claws, for example. It is uncommon to rare for a Zenohunt to have wings, however only one Zenohunt, Amelia Lara, was able to use them to fly, and even then she could only fly for a small amount of time.
Zenohunts came from their home planet, Lemia, and were quite territorial. They often started wars amongst tribes for food or land. After a long while, official 'peacelands' were made, but few still raided these for what they needed before they were cut down. It wasn't until Zenohunts expanded into space that actual peace started among them. Meeting other species was usually met with confusion on their side: The Zenohunts would arrive in their territory with a massive battlefleet or Supership, yet claim they wanted peace.
Zenohunts usually start out young: In systems where they are government, they are allowed to leave school and work at the age of twelve, and at that age they are also allowed to marry and have a family (though this requires permission from the local authorities as well as some tests to make sure that the couple are sure of what they are doing). This includes the military: They are allowed to join the Zenohunt army at twelve (Home Deployment Force) or fourteen (Non-Home Deployment Force), the Zenohunt Navy at thirteen (or fourteen if they wish to become an attack pilot), and the Zenohunt Marines at fourteen. Zenohunt intelligence usually recruits from the ages of six and up, particularly if they have military experience. All of this can change depending on the rules of where they live: Zenohunts obviously cannot join a Human military at the age of fourteen, since there are rules regarding this, though it is not unknown of Zenohunt Intelligence to still recruit at young ages (with less frequency) in other species' territories where Zenohunts reside.
Zenohunt relation with other species is that their military forces, including (but not limited to) their Space Navy, Army, Intelligence, Marines and Zenofighters (Super-Special forces) are not integrated into any other species' militaries, and are in a separate but stable alliance. Their merchant marine and trade ships, however, are free to flutter in and out of societies (the former able to until called to war), and their people and free to mingle with other species.
More information is available if asked for.
Role: Zenohunt intelligence, there primarily to help out with security both during the expedition and to see long-term security threats that may happen during actual colonization. Secondarily, her superiors also believed this would be a good chance for Zenohunt relations with other species.
Affiliation: Acionna Expedition, Zenohunt Military
Relationship Status: Single
Appearance: Ruby has dark brown hair that falls down to just over halfway down her back. She has a clean and pretty face with brown eyes and brown eyebrows. Small lips and small ears add onto this, as well as a pair of brown fox ears on her head, which marks her clearly as a Zenohunt if she isn't wearing a hat or hood over them. Going further down, she has a reasonable but not-to-large bust on her chest, and she is quite slim. She has a brown fox tail, which also marks her as a Zenohunt if the ears were not clear enough.
Facts/Backstory: More of a timeline;
* Born to a pair of Zenohunts on Kepler-17x.
* Grew up in a boarding home as her parents were away serving the military.
* Ruby reaches five years of age
* Had a desire to join the military like her parents but was unable to for the foreseeable future because of the non-Zenohunt ruling.
* Ruby reaches fifteen years of age
* Parents died during combat against pirates.
* Zenohunt Intelligence uses parent's deaths to recruit Ruby into them.
* Ruby is trained, then made tasking-available and sent out
* Ruby reaches twenty years of age
* Ruby receives the letter and at the same time a message from her superior that she will be going there.
* Ruby reaches present day.
Weapons:
* Zenohunt Intelligence-issue ILP-221 (Interchangeable-laser pistol)
+ Can change from a lethal laser to a stun laser, which is like the equivalent of being hit by a taser, but holds the charge as if the user of the taser was holding the trigger.
* Zenohunt Military Knife
Skills:
* Gathering/Analyzing intelligence and information
* Good at sneaking
* Pranks
* Bilingual
* Communications</s>
<|message|>Aubrey Lochlan
Listen to me first!!!
Aubrey looked up from the recording apparatus and smiled at the brightly decorated azure bird before picking up one of the smaller crates and carrying it into the temporary shell of a lab. After a year on the Nepra, it was refreshing to be able to walk about in the fresh, open air. It was also nice that there was a breeze at the moment, never something that was on Hephaestus. If there was wind, you had to get inside before a sandstorm or electrical storm reached you. Aubrey shook her head of the thoughts about her home planet, while she missed her family, she most certainly didn't miss the heat and sunburns.
Unpacking the crate, she set up the testing equipment first before moving onto getting the computers unpacked, leaving them for Alden to set up when he had the chance. Most of the necessary equipment was set up now so she could get some basic testing done, like finding what plants were safe and which weren't. And she knew just where to start. She grabbed her testing gear and headed back towards the Nepra where she had seen what appeared to be some sort of fruit tree, waving to Lucia as she checked over the large vehicular equipment.</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Alden was still aboard the large ship, checking over logs of what needed to be moved first and when. It wasn't exactly his job, but he liked order, not wanting to get in the way of others trying to unpack at the same time he was. With careful planning, he managed to bring his own things to the new prefab shelter. Gathering what he had, he set his things down within the room he and Aubrey would be sharing.
In the distance, the three security Cyborgs that had been sent along for their protection were doing a sweep, securing the many things they had set up as well as marking locations for construction and habitation.</s>
<|message|>James Carson
James looked with a rather empty look at the new terrain and at the new wildlife. Where one might have been excited of the new terrain, he felt nothing. Where one saw beauty in the new large animals, he only saw potential threats that would attack them. For him, this planet was as exciting as the the science labs he was tested in... or the far off and distant memories of Hephaestus. He shook his head, and left the ship.
"Everyone, secure a perimeter around the base!" he ordered all the people and cyborgs part of the security team. He took a deep breath and found the air here to be... cleaner than the test labs he was placed in. He felt a tinge of excitement going through him as he heard the calls of all sorts of different animals, so many new sounds, so many new sights. Even if they were potential threats, it felt a bit exciting to see all these new creatures.</s>
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
The beauty of the pure, untouched planet struck Ruby Indigo as she strolled out of the ship, ILP-221 strapped firmly to her waist. The planet may look beautiful and happy as can be, though there wasn't much to be said against taking a little extra protection. The beautiful birds that stared at them could easily be carnivores, and just wondering what the new meat would taste like. People arriving in ships might just be their equivalent of tinned meat.
It was hard to think of them as hostile, though. The birds made Ruby light up in delight, and even though she knew she had a job to do, she just wanted to sit and watch them. Taking her datapad off of her belt, she lifted it and began to record the surroundings, speaking into the microphone in Zenospeak, the language of Zenohunts, and recording what she thought of the surroundings as well as any implications that would affect landing on the planet.
Just as she clicked off the button for recording, Ruby heard the chief of security order a perimeter around the base. She rolled her eyes in perhaps a childish manner. "Is someone getting scared that the birds are gonna eat him?" Ruby called over to him with a giggle.</s>
<|message|>James Carson
James Carson
As soon as he heard the girl speak to him, all the excitement vanished, he had to be serious now. He turned towards the girl and looked at her for a few moments, as if he was a computer scanning something, before turning back towards the jungle as if expecting something to pop out of the forest and attack them.
"Not me, young lady, my meat is tough and hard to chew." He answered in a factual manner. "Though I imagine that you would be tender and easy to eat." He said to the girl in a quite casual manner. "But do not worry, my lady, it is my job to make sure that you do not end up in some creature's stomach."
After those words came out, he turned towards the girl after determining that nothing was going to attack them. "So please, if you feel something threatens you, then I am here to protect you." He said with a blank smile, his comment didn't feel reassuring, it felt more like he was stating a fact.</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Mentioned: @Raptor
"Well, there's that" commented Alden with an amused half smirk, poking some wind chimes they'd brought along. It was good luck when visiting new planets, it let people know of potential storms if they hadn't yet gotten their systems up and running. Shaking his head, the man soon left the shelter he and Aubrey now owned, leaving to go find his lover he spotted her over by some vehicles. Briskly walking over, he leaned over from behind to kiss her cheek "Liking our new planet so far?" he asked, wrapping his arms around Aubrey with care and affection</s>
<|message|>Aubrey Lochlan
Mentioned: @Metadude
"Working already?" Lucia asked, raising her eyebrow at her fellow crew mate. "Well, I'm headed to look at some plants by the Nerpa, it looked like they might have some type of fruit and ya'know, it would be kinda useful to know if it's safe to eat or not," Aubrey replied, shifting her equipment case to her other hand. It was also something Elias had asked her to look into when she had the chance, ever being one to think ahead in case disaster should strike.
She jumped at the unexpected kiss and looked up to see Alden, grinning brightly and turned to return the hug. "I am! The birds are my favorite so far," She said. "I'm heading to the Nepra, care to join me or do you have some work to do still?"
---
Mentioned: @Claw2k11
Elias didn't stray far from his ship just yet, scrolling through his data pad and briefly looking up when he heard Carson call out for a perimeter to be set up, quickly hailing him over comms. "Don't go to far, we're sticking fairly close to the ship for now until everyone gets temporary shelters set up," He said. "Also talk to Lucia about getting the fence set up once you define the perimeter, clock says we've got 6 hours before sunset."</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Mentioned: @Raptor
"I need to start setting up the computers" sighed the man, shaking his head briefly "But, if I get it done within' the next few hours, i'll come find you". Planting another soft kiss on Aubrey's cheek, the man let her go "Have fun, don't poke the birds... or the plants... they might like fingers" he added teasingly, waving her and Lucia off as he returned to work
Meanwhile, A-01 was surveying the surrounding area, placing barrier kits while Meta and Cuddles set them up one by one, slowly creating a protective field around the large camp they'd set up.</s>
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<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
Ruby quirked an eyebrow as she was stared at by James, and for a moment she wondered if he was some kind of android that was failing to compute. The thought of breaking a robot this easily made her grin. His words, however, were a slight surprise to her: How was she supposed to react at being called tender and easy to eat?
James then seemed to go on about how he would protect her, and Ruby forced herself to not giggle away. "Oh, please. You're not the only one assigned to security. In a manner of speaking," she said, patting her sidearm. "Though if I do need some help, I'll be sure to ask for you," she grinned, crossing her arms. "Speaking of, is there anything you need help with? I'm currently free until I decide to find someone and disturb, or annoy, them." Ruby could not help but wink at him.</s>
|
<|description|>Ruby Indigo
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Height: 5'3"
Species: Zenohunts are almost similar to Humans apart from the fact that they often have some minor changes in personality based on their animal traits; Zenohunts have some features of animals, let that be a tail or ears. They sometimes vary, some having claws, for example. It is uncommon to rare for a Zenohunt to have wings, however only one Zenohunt, Amelia Lara, was able to use them to fly, and even then she could only fly for a small amount of time.
Zenohunts came from their home planet, Lemia, and were quite territorial. They often started wars amongst tribes for food or land. After a long while, official 'peacelands' were made, but few still raided these for what they needed before they were cut down. It wasn't until Zenohunts expanded into space that actual peace started among them. Meeting other species was usually met with confusion on their side: The Zenohunts would arrive in their territory with a massive battlefleet or Supership, yet claim they wanted peace.
Zenohunts usually start out young: In systems where they are government, they are allowed to leave school and work at the age of twelve, and at that age they are also allowed to marry and have a family (though this requires permission from the local authorities as well as some tests to make sure that the couple are sure of what they are doing). This includes the military: They are allowed to join the Zenohunt army at twelve (Home Deployment Force) or fourteen (Non-Home Deployment Force), the Zenohunt Navy at thirteen (or fourteen if they wish to become an attack pilot), and the Zenohunt Marines at fourteen. Zenohunt intelligence usually recruits from the ages of six and up, particularly if they have military experience. All of this can change depending on the rules of where they live: Zenohunts obviously cannot join a Human military at the age of fourteen, since there are rules regarding this, though it is not unknown of Zenohunt Intelligence to still recruit at young ages (with less frequency) in other species' territories where Zenohunts reside.
Zenohunt relation with other species is that their military forces, including (but not limited to) their Space Navy, Army, Intelligence, Marines and Zenofighters (Super-Special forces) are not integrated into any other species' militaries, and are in a separate but stable alliance. Their merchant marine and trade ships, however, are free to flutter in and out of societies (the former able to until called to war), and their people and free to mingle with other species.
More information is available if asked for.
Role: Zenohunt intelligence, there primarily to help out with security both during the expedition and to see long-term security threats that may happen during actual colonization. Secondarily, her superiors also believed this would be a good chance for Zenohunt relations with other species.
Affiliation: Acionna Expedition, Zenohunt Military
Relationship Status: Single
Appearance: Ruby has dark brown hair that falls down to just over halfway down her back. She has a clean and pretty face with brown eyes and brown eyebrows. Small lips and small ears add onto this, as well as a pair of brown fox ears on her head, which marks her clearly as a Zenohunt if she isn't wearing a hat or hood over them. Going further down, she has a reasonable but not-to-large bust on her chest, and she is quite slim. She has a brown fox tail, which also marks her as a Zenohunt if the ears were not clear enough.
Facts/Backstory: More of a timeline;
* Born to a pair of Zenohunts on Kepler-17x.
* Grew up in a boarding home as her parents were away serving the military.
* Ruby reaches five years of age
* Had a desire to join the military like her parents but was unable to for the foreseeable future because of the non-Zenohunt ruling.
* Ruby reaches fifteen years of age
* Parents died during combat against pirates.
* Zenohunt Intelligence uses parent's deaths to recruit Ruby into them.
* Ruby is trained, then made tasking-available and sent out
* Ruby reaches twenty years of age
* Ruby receives the letter and at the same time a message from her superior that she will be going there.
* Ruby reaches present day.
Weapons:
* Zenohunt Intelligence-issue ILP-221 (Interchangeable-laser pistol)
+ Can change from a lethal laser to a stun laser, which is like the equivalent of being hit by a taser, but holds the charge as if the user of the taser was holding the trigger.
* Zenohunt Military Knife
Skills:
* Gathering/Analyzing intelligence and information
* Good at sneaking
* Pranks
* Bilingual
* Communications</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Mentioned: @Claw2k11
"Perimeter already secured" A-01 informed the man "Requesting verification to enable defensive barrier.". The Cyborgs were receiving orders they had already completed, Meta and Cuddles paid no attention to it, but A-01 was cursed with a higher level of intelligence. Interpreting the commands, A-01 had the other two recheck the perimeter while he awaited authorization to enable the barriers</s>
<|message|>James Carson
"Enable barriers and allow nobody to leave unless they have my express permission." he ordered the two. They still had to be cautious of the wildlife in their first days here, who knows what dangers lurked around here and who knows how dangerous they were to humans. "If anyone demands to exit the barred area, contact me." he said to A-01, before turning back, to explore the surroundings with Ruby, it would take his mind off his duties for a few precious moments at least.</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Mentioned: @Claw2k11
"Order Confirmed.", with that, A-01 enabled the barriers. Creating a thin dome of energy over the whole camp. "I will re-rout all communication with designations, A-01, A-09 and C-13 to Chief of Security, James Carson.". The three Cyborgs patrolled the barrier, only one of them ever leaving their post of the Humans needed help with heavy lifting.</s>
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
"Well, I guess so," Ruby replied to James' suggestion that they could explore. It would give her a chance to explore the local area. She paused as he started to order the cyborgs to enable the barriers, and Ruby started to eye them with some curiosity. They were, in her opinion, quite strange. They looked capable, yet at the same time she could not help but think they were all look and talk, but no fight.
Shrugging to herself, Ruby turned to have a staring contest with a beautiful bird. She won, the bird obviously did not know it was a contest, with a smile, before turning to James. "This place is beautiful."</s>
<|message|>Thomas Dunn
Thomas Dunn
---
Mentioned: Lucia- @Raptor
---
"Kids?" He said, cocking an eyebrow. It had never occurred to him to think of his nurses as kids, but he supposed they were seven years younger than him. "Huh. Damn. We're old, aren't we?" He let out a quick laugh. "That's a troubling thought." He looked at the crates that contained the exam-beds. He smiled. "Oh, wonderful." He turned to the mechanic, clapping his hands together. "You are a saint, Lucia." He tried to pick up one of the crates, and struggled. He rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt. He whistled. "Oi! Daveth, I need a hand with this. Alicia, clear out some space."
"On it, Doc!" They chorused, giggling. Thomas sighed. Moving the crates around was a righteous pain in the ass, but luckily, the bed themselves were easy to set up. When they'd finished up, he wiped some sweat off his brow. He was tired, and so were Daveth and Alicia. He sighed.
"You two, take a break. Long as you need, but try to be back in an hour. Anyone gives you shit about it, tell them to talk to me. Unless it's Carson. If Carson gives you shit about it, you tell him you're sorry, and you come right back here." He said, in a semi-joking manner. There wasn't a lot that scared him, but that machine-in-men's-clothing was somewhere far beyond intimidating. He limped over to Lucia. "I've got the 'kids' off my back for an hour or so. You need help with anything?"</s>
<|message|>James Carson
"Yes... and dangerous." his instincts as a super-soldier kicked in as he placed a hand casually on his assault rifle. "That bird could gobble up almost anyone here... if I weren't here." though he didn't know it, for a brief moment, a prideful smile formed on his lips. "We should continue our exploration..." he said and moved past the bird at a respectable distance.
"Say... were you born on Hephaestus?" he asked, seemingly trying to make a conversation, though again, his voice lacked any actual emotions.</s>
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
"Dangerous, but doesn't danger have it's own beauties?" Ruby asked, before going on to reply to his next comment. "Hey, I thought almost the same thing. Us coming here in a ship," she took a moment to wave vaguely in the direction of the ship, "-Might be the equivalent of a grocery delivery. Tinned meat." She followed James on his path as he walked past the bird.
"Hephaestus? Nah, I was born on Kepler-17x. Whatever deity is up there, if there even is one, probably decided to look into my future before placing me in my mother's womb. He or she saw I was going to be a military girl, and decided to place me on a non-Zenohunt world so I'd have to wait for longer to get into the nearest Zenohunt recruitment building," Ruby grinned. "As it is, they probably skipped over the part where my parents died and Zenohunt Intelligence picked me up. I probably won't ever be picked up for Zenofighter training, it's rare anyone actually is, but I do have a shot at transferring to another section of the military if I actually want to."
"How about you, where you from?" Ruby asked to further the conversation, even though she already knew. Perhaps he would tell her something she wouldn't know.</s>
<|message|>Kari (Kah-Ree) Sabaan (Say-Bahn)
The more that Kari collected her samples, the more she found small groupings of the same things. Not uncommon at all. Simple stuff, from what she has studied back home and on the ship. However, it did remind her of her situation. It was her decision in the end, after all. She was the only Mynua from her settlement on the entire ship. There were only a handful that had the honor of being apart of the expedition. Her people weren't horribly Xenophobic, but they were not completely welcoming of new people.
She really should talk to some people.
She felt that she had collected enough samples. Her pincers were just maneuverable enough for her to place everything that she had chipped away so neatly and carefully into the little containers on the pouch attached to her waist. She could return to the ship and get to cracking on those rocks. She giggled to herself. Even after all of this time, she was still so young at heart. She still had a long way to go, though. Due to the nature of her species and how they lived, they could be alive for quite a long time.
Kari needed to stop herself, though. She needed to go out and talk to the others. She had been a bit of a... A. Spider. The Brown one. The word escaped her. It didn't like people. She'd have to ask one of the Human crew members if they knew what it was. Bottom line, she didn't talk to the crew as much as she should have, especially as the Ambassador for the Mynua. Well, unofficial Ambassador. She needed to be friendly with the peoples. So many Kasha, she assumed. So many people away from their homes. Maybe she would find something in common with them, if she could only urge herself to actually go and talk to someone.
She wanted to speak. She really did. The only thing she did, though was just stand around on two legs awkwardly, looking for someone to talk to. Maybe she could go back on the ship and find someone on the way to her lab. Maybe she could just take a minute to walk around and get to know some of the people that she would be talking to in the near future.
For now, she just... sorta stood around, bouncing on her digitigrade legs. They were so thin, so bony and skinny. The mid layer of her skin practically didn't exist down there, other than where her legs bent, of course. It was a little weird, sometimes she was on her hands and legs, and sometimes just her legs. Human's didn't seem to do that. They didn't seem to be much for climbing through caves, though. She wanted to know more about them.
But she was rambling, keeping herself from actually talking to people. Maybe those Zenohunts first. She just didn't know what to do!</s>
<|message|>James Carson
James Carson
He listened with some interest, which was something odd, considering that his emotions were heavily suppressed. As soon as she asked him about himself, he thought for a moment if he was allowed to say everything that had transpired in his life, but in the end he shrugged and answered.
"I was born on Hephaestus to a family of miners, I was abducted at an early age by some secret governmental organization that was bent on turning people into super-soldiers." he said, when he felt a small shock of pain, nothing he couldn't handle. "So they enhanced my strength, my mind, all of my senses and they even heavily suppressed my emotions so that I wouldn't feel fear in battle." he spoke, with the pain getting stronger each second he spoke about his past, even so, it was still way below his pain threshold to hurt him significantly. "They made more enhancements to my body while I was asleep so I do not know what they were... anyway, after a countless number of years, they decided to place me into this expedition, using their governmental positions to place me here as chief of security, though it is beyond my understanding why they would do so."
As soon as he stopped speaking, the pain slowly started to subside. "Wait... why did you choose to come here if you had the luxury of choice to go wherever in military you wished?"</s>
|
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
Interest sparked within Ruby as the chief of security spoke about being abducted and placed into a super-soldier program. She took mental notes as he went on to explain what the organisation did to him: From what she could recall, the files only described him as a normal soldier, nothing that special about him, even though there were some subnotes including suspicion about his capabilities. The suspicion seemed justified, Ruby could check some boxes when she had a moment.
James then asked Ruby why she chose to come on the expedition. "Oh, you don't understand, I can go to any section or the military or remain a true intelligence person, but I have little leeway when it comes to deployment," she says.</s>
|
<|description|>Ruby Indigo
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Height: 5'3"
Species: Zenohunts are almost similar to Humans apart from the fact that they often have some minor changes in personality based on their animal traits; Zenohunts have some features of animals, let that be a tail or ears. They sometimes vary, some having claws, for example. It is uncommon to rare for a Zenohunt to have wings, however only one Zenohunt, Amelia Lara, was able to use them to fly, and even then she could only fly for a small amount of time.
Zenohunts came from their home planet, Lemia, and were quite territorial. They often started wars amongst tribes for food or land. After a long while, official 'peacelands' were made, but few still raided these for what they needed before they were cut down. It wasn't until Zenohunts expanded into space that actual peace started among them. Meeting other species was usually met with confusion on their side: The Zenohunts would arrive in their territory with a massive battlefleet or Supership, yet claim they wanted peace.
Zenohunts usually start out young: In systems where they are government, they are allowed to leave school and work at the age of twelve, and at that age they are also allowed to marry and have a family (though this requires permission from the local authorities as well as some tests to make sure that the couple are sure of what they are doing). This includes the military: They are allowed to join the Zenohunt army at twelve (Home Deployment Force) or fourteen (Non-Home Deployment Force), the Zenohunt Navy at thirteen (or fourteen if they wish to become an attack pilot), and the Zenohunt Marines at fourteen. Zenohunt intelligence usually recruits from the ages of six and up, particularly if they have military experience. All of this can change depending on the rules of where they live: Zenohunts obviously cannot join a Human military at the age of fourteen, since there are rules regarding this, though it is not unknown of Zenohunt Intelligence to still recruit at young ages (with less frequency) in other species' territories where Zenohunts reside.
Zenohunt relation with other species is that their military forces, including (but not limited to) their Space Navy, Army, Intelligence, Marines and Zenofighters (Super-Special forces) are not integrated into any other species' militaries, and are in a separate but stable alliance. Their merchant marine and trade ships, however, are free to flutter in and out of societies (the former able to until called to war), and their people and free to mingle with other species.
More information is available if asked for.
Role: Zenohunt intelligence, there primarily to help out with security both during the expedition and to see long-term security threats that may happen during actual colonization. Secondarily, her superiors also believed this would be a good chance for Zenohunt relations with other species.
Affiliation: Acionna Expedition, Zenohunt Military
Relationship Status: Single
Appearance: Ruby has dark brown hair that falls down to just over halfway down her back. She has a clean and pretty face with brown eyes and brown eyebrows. Small lips and small ears add onto this, as well as a pair of brown fox ears on her head, which marks her clearly as a Zenohunt if she isn't wearing a hat or hood over them. Going further down, she has a reasonable but not-to-large bust on her chest, and she is quite slim. She has a brown fox tail, which also marks her as a Zenohunt if the ears were not clear enough.
Facts/Backstory: More of a timeline;
* Born to a pair of Zenohunts on Kepler-17x.
* Grew up in a boarding home as her parents were away serving the military.
* Ruby reaches five years of age
* Had a desire to join the military like her parents but was unable to for the foreseeable future because of the non-Zenohunt ruling.
* Ruby reaches fifteen years of age
* Parents died during combat against pirates.
* Zenohunt Intelligence uses parent's deaths to recruit Ruby into them.
* Ruby is trained, then made tasking-available and sent out
* Ruby reaches twenty years of age
* Ruby receives the letter and at the same time a message from her superior that she will be going there.
* Ruby reaches present day.
Weapons:
* Zenohunt Intelligence-issue ILP-221 (Interchangeable-laser pistol)
+ Can change from a lethal laser to a stun laser, which is like the equivalent of being hit by a taser, but holds the charge as if the user of the taser was holding the trigger.
* Zenohunt Military Knife
Skills:
* Gathering/Analyzing intelligence and information
* Good at sneaking
* Pranks
* Bilingual
* Communications</s>
<|message|>Kari (Kah-Ree) Sabaan (Say-Bahn)
"Hey there, having fun?"
She had been so mixed up in just standing around to notice that someone had been calling for attention. Kari looked to the Human who had addressed her. It was Audrey, resident biologist, who had some to her rescue. The visor that had once covered a great portion of her face slipping up and behind her, revealing a face quite similar to a Humans, but with angles as sharp as rocks. Kari smiled, her eyes yellow and reminiscent of a Human Cat's shining.
"Very much so." She nodded. Her pincers clipped at the pouch at her side. "It's so exciting to be on an uncharted world. There's so much to find here!" She was a long way from home, but she was enjoying it. Aubrey, from Kari's memory, was also born on Hephaestus. However, due to their differing species, they probably had different memories of home. "It's a long way from Home. All of us together, we aren't Kasha, but we are wanderers on an unknown land."</s>
<|message|>James Carson
"I see..." James says, as if pondering the situation at hand. As they walked, they reached the barrier that the three cyborg's have set. Simply out of human instinct, James just sighs and turns to Ruby. "Well, it seems our exploring duty must be cut short for today." he says, knowing that he should at least smile to the girl, yet his body did not feel the need to do this.
"Let's go, or the people back there might be a bit pissed that we are not helping them unload." this time, he did briefly smile, but his natural suppression of these kinds of emotions took over and his face returned his usual emotionless self. After a few more moments of silence, heading back towards the base, James asks. "What do you think of me so far?" he asks, slightly curious as to what this woman thought of him, despite the fact that normally he should not think about these sort of things.</s>
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
"Yeah, I guess," Ruby replied, once they had reached the barrier. She giggled at James' remark about the unloading: It was true enough. His next question caught her off guard, though. What does she think of him? Is he genuinely asking, or is he trying to make himself look good for me? Her face lit up red. He is handsome, for a human, she thought to herself, her tail swishing behind her as she stared at him for a moment.
Her face turned a tiny more red as she realized what she was thinking about, and she quickly broke her gaze away. "O-Oh, well, you seem good," Ruby says with a small giggle. "Competent. Cool." She adds on, whilst walking.</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Mentioned: @Claw2k11
A-09, also referred to as "Cuddles" by a young girl before his deployment, had observed his Security Chief interacting with the non-Human he knew as Ruby. He could detect small variations in their temperature as they spoke, but otherwise ignored it. Approaching, he patiently waited until he had the Chief's attention before speaking. "Sir, barrier is running at optimal settings. Seeking new instructions." he greeted, holding the SMG in his hands loosely, finger not on the trigger.
Meanwhile, Alden had run back onto the ship, gathering more equipment to bring down to their small camp. He was transporting food fabricators now for their cooks, needing to link them up into the main network as well so those working could make an order while on duty instead of leaving their posts. The three Cyborgs and their Security Chief took priority for meals as they needed their strength to work effectively should anything dangerous occur.</s>
<|message|>Aubrey Lochlan
Mentioned: @Nevix
Lucia looked at her cards and frowned, a 3 and an ace. Well this was a shitty hand. She sighed as the next card showed a 5. Well shitty hand indeed, good thing they weren't gambling. She slapped her cards face up on the table and glared at them before looking up to Thomas.
"Well, it's better than this, if there was a pot, you'd have won it," She muttered before gathering the cards up and then handing them over to him so he could shuffle and deal the next round. "So, your nurses still acting like lovesick schoolkids?"
---
Mentioned: @pyroman
"That's good, find anything interesting?" Aubrey asked as she walked closer, having to crane her head back to look Kari in the face.
Even though she grew up on Hephaestus, Aubrey never really got to know Kari's people, she knew about them but was really too busy with schooling to socialize with any of the family groups. She looked back briefly to where her testing kit was and then looked back to the Mynua. Meh, she could ask Alden to haul a ladder out here for her later. 'Kasha', the word made Aubrey's head tilt to the side in thought.
"Kasha, does that mean family?" She asked curiously.</s>
<|message|>Thomas Dunn
Thomas Dunn
---
- Lucia
---
Thomas brightened immediately, pumping his fist.
"Yes!" He shouted, perhaps louder than he should have. "Now, I finally have enough imaginary money for my imaginary yacht!" He grinned, taking in the cards and shuffling professionally. When he finished, he burned a card, then laid three on the table. He dealt one card to himself, and one to Lucia, one more to himself, and one more to her. He thought, pondering her question. "They're probably doing something romantic, like looking for a nice place to watch the sunset." He said, chuckling. "The thing is, I couldn't care less about their romance, I just wish they would make it a romance already. All of this, and they have the gall to suggest that they're just friends." He turned over his cards, sighing. A two and a king. They were both clubs, though. He could make something of this. He looked at the flop. Jack of Hearts, Seven of Diamonds, Six of Diamonds. He sighed again.
Or, not.
"I dunno, I'm beginning to think that I'm subconsciously living vicariously through them." He said, scratching the back of his hand as he dealt out the next card. Two of Diamonds. "It's like watching one of those old soap operas. But, after a year of watching, I'm growing tired of the old 'will-they, won't-they' game." He flipped over the last card. Eight of Hearts. He laid out his cards. "Pair of two's." He said. "We all got to keep entertained somehow. How do you do it? Do you give your tools names, and act out complex story lines?" He put on a stage-feminine voice. "'Oh, Erik the Drill! How I long to be with you!'" He snickered, before putting on a deep, masculine voice. "'Alas, Jane the Screwdriver, it is not meant to be."</s>
<|message|>James Carson
A slight smile appeared on his face appears as he saw the girl's face turn red and her tail started to swish around. "Well, it seems you are rather bashful!" he said, as slight grin formed on his lips. "And here I thought I was made to be a warrior not a Casanova!" his grin widened, in the back of his mind he wondered if the emotional suppressing had been broken since he could feel emotions so vivid.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Then after we unload everything, maybe we could have some fun!" he said, with a rather devious smile on his face. "If you agree, I'll carry all of the things you are supposed to carrying as well!" and though he would carry her things either way, the rather raunchy joke would serve lighten the mood.
With the smile on his face quickly vanishing, he looks at "Cuddles". "Help the others unload, then announce me when the food is prepared." he says, looking at the cyborg with his usual blank stare. "I will take the first night shift tonight, I need to stretch for a bit." he says looking at the other cyborg's.
Though he was mostly human, most of the people on the trip here considered that both him and the robots to be the same in the sense that both of them mostly lacked emotions, which he imagined that didn't make him very well liked among the people. This in return made him feel a bit of empathy for the cyborgs, even if they were as different from them as Ruby was different from the cyborgs themselves.</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Mentioned: @Claw2k11
"Order for Unloading, confirmed. Order for food preparation, denied. Order for Commanding Officer to hold the first shift, confirmed." stated Cuddles. As he was a security enforcer, being aware of meal preparation was not part of his programming. The two blue units did not have the same level of intelligence as A-01, the Brown unit. They could not improvise and understand certain things.</s>
<|message|>Kari (Kah-Ree) Sabaan (Say-Bahn)
Mentioned: @Raptor
"I have, I have." She was clearly quite pleased with her growing collection of rocks and minerals from this planet. Surely there would be more for her to find the more the explored. However, Aubrey did have a question relating to Mynuan. She shifted a little, but still smiled at the human. "No, Kasha is a term for stranger. Clanless." She began to explain, her pincers waving around a little as she did so. "If you are wandering or traveling to another settlement, those who pass you and do not recognize you will regard you are Kasha until you identify yourself as something else, if you are something else, of course. There is nothing wrong with being Kasha. None are treated differently. It's simply a title for those who wander alone." She was rambling, but she always did enjoy it when people asked about her kind. She liked spreading truthful information to those who wanted it.</s>
|
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
Ruby lit up inside at James' words, and she smiled back at his grin. Her face once again went tomato as he placed a hand on her shoulder and claimed that they could have some fun after they unloaded. "Sure we can, but I need to unload some of my stuff personally. Zenohunt stuff I and my two colleges have to move into our new accommodation," she says, leaning against him slightly with a gentle smile on her face. She watched as the cyborg, Cuddles, was spoken to by James, and stayed quiet as they did, hugging him gently with another blush on her face.</s>
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<|description|>Kari (Kah-Ree) Sabaan (Say-Bahn)
Age: 82 "Earth Years", would be considered somewhere in her late mid thirties if proportional to a human's lifespan. (Human's are awfully attached to their dead homeworld, still using its system to time for measurements and all.)
Gender: Female
Height: 6'5"
Species: The Mynua are a native race of the planet the Human's call Hephaestus. Somewhere in between insect and human-like, the Mynua have three layers of skin. The outer layer, hard and plated, the mid layer, still rough and course, placed in areas between the plates of the outer layer so the Mynua can maneuver, and the inner layer, soft and fleshy, like a human's skin. The mid layer of skin only really applies to the center of the body, where all of the important organs are. The outer layer generates a dome over one's head, helpful against falling debris and shade from the sun. They have even created visors to further help protection against the sun.
Over time, the Mynua have developed a single system of communication spread across the planet. Over the millions of years in which the species has slowly grown and evolved, it is the culmination of many different languages that the Mynua have used.
The Mynua primarily live underground, underneath the hot surface of the planet, and where most, if not all of the water is located. While they are not barbaric, the Mynua live simple lives. While settlements have been established all over the planet, the Mynua are typically nomads, traveling from one settlement to the next. Settlements had leaders, as groups always did, and people played their parts with subjects they were best in. Everyone had a place to do something, no matter how ordinary or strange it may be. There was always a reason, even if it could not yet be understood. They trade and offer wisdom from other settlements, keeping everyone connected in a more analogue way than what can be accomplished with their technological advancements before the Human's came.
Once the Humans arrived, it took a little for peace to be cemented between the two species. The Mynua firmly believed that there were beings further than what they could see, as well as believing in a pantheon of creators. Once communication was established between the two on a level that they could both understand, the Mynua allowed them to travel the surface. They did not take too kindly to having their planet being mined out, but allowed in on the conditions that the Mynua would be overseeing the operations, and change things as they needed to be changed. After a little compromise, things were easy between the two, even if they were not the best of friends with one another.
The Mynua, like humans, use sirnames, but only in application to their settlement/clan/grouping. This means that their sirname can change more than once throughout their life. Those who do not live under a clan or grouping are known as "Kasha". This is both a grouping term for those on their own, and used is as any other sirname would be used.
Role: Geologist.
Affiliation: The Mynua species, Acionna Expedition
Relationship Status: Single
Appearance:
Facts/Backstory: Kari grew up in the Sabaan settlement, in the northern part of the planet. The settlement itself was deeper underground than most, and was probably just as hot as the surface above. That was just how Kari liked it, though. She enjoyed spending hours looking at all of the different creatures and rocks around and above her, Not to mention her mother and father were not too keen on letting her up on the surface to talk to the Humans.
As she grew older, she wandered further and further upwards, eventually finding the surface and the Humans that lived there. She talked to them. Her settlement was one of the last to not have direct contact with the Humans. She supposed it made sense. They weren't too keen on outsiders in the first place, and even if they were from beyond the surface, they would not always be welcomed with open arms. However, she took this chance to learn more about them.
Time passed and she had eventually gotten the leader of her settlement, her own father, to talk directly with the humans. She didn't want to stop there, though. She wanted to prove that these outsiders were friendly, and could be trusted. It was about that time that she started looking for ways to push relations even further, by joining Human organizations.
She went to the stars, learning about all of the other races she knew so very little about, and knew that this was her place. She belonged in the Final Frontier.
Fact - Kari cannot whistle. Almost everyone else she knows can, but she has never been able to, no matter how hard she tried.
Weapons: Tool Kit - Though the Mynua have strong claws for piercing rocks, there are a few things that she needs to help with her studies and finds. Dusts, pics of various materials for different uses, and small containers for storing delicate items in.
Visor and Interface - Because of her lack of hands, using tools and computers can be quite difficult for any Mynua. However, a joint project between Humans and the Mynua have allowed them to better access everything that a human can. The visor now serves as a Heads-Up-Display, in addition to just protection from the sun, and small sensors have been place within the organic armor to allow Kari to use electronic devices, such as computers, vehicles, and other tools, while just moving her body and extra appendages to control them. This makes physical contact with devices obsolete, and very helpful to the Mynua in general.
Skills: Bilingual - Kari is fluent in both Mynuan and the Earth English, and can translate between the two rather easily. Though sometimes she can become distracted and overwhelmed, using the other language when it has no place in the particular area.
Geology - She had taken up the study of the ground underneath and above her when she was very little, having loved all of the different types of minerals and rocks around her. Humans had a refined section of study based on that of just rocks, and Kari fell in love. Her species has no official "degrees" or learning, but she has spent decades of her life learning about geology, Kari herself believing that she has a mastery over the subject.</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Alden was still aboard the large ship, checking over logs of what needed to be moved first and when. It wasn't exactly his job, but he liked order, not wanting to get in the way of others trying to unpack at the same time he was. With careful planning, he managed to bring his own things to the new prefab shelter. Gathering what he had, he set his things down within the room he and Aubrey would be sharing.
In the distance, the three security Cyborgs that had been sent along for their protection were doing a sweep, securing the many things they had set up as well as marking locations for construction and habitation.</s>
<|message|>James Carson
James looked with a rather empty look at the new terrain and at the new wildlife. Where one might have been excited of the new terrain, he felt nothing. Where one saw beauty in the new large animals, he only saw potential threats that would attack them. For him, this planet was as exciting as the the science labs he was tested in... or the far off and distant memories of Hephaestus. He shook his head, and left the ship.
"Everyone, secure a perimeter around the base!" he ordered all the people and cyborgs part of the security team. He took a deep breath and found the air here to be... cleaner than the test labs he was placed in. He felt a tinge of excitement going through him as he heard the calls of all sorts of different animals, so many new sounds, so many new sights. Even if they were potential threats, it felt a bit exciting to see all these new creatures.</s>
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
The beauty of the pure, untouched planet struck Ruby Indigo as she strolled out of the ship, ILP-221 strapped firmly to her waist. The planet may look beautiful and happy as can be, though there wasn't much to be said against taking a little extra protection. The beautiful birds that stared at them could easily be carnivores, and just wondering what the new meat would taste like. People arriving in ships might just be their equivalent of tinned meat.
It was hard to think of them as hostile, though. The birds made Ruby light up in delight, and even though she knew she had a job to do, she just wanted to sit and watch them. Taking her datapad off of her belt, she lifted it and began to record the surroundings, speaking into the microphone in Zenospeak, the language of Zenohunts, and recording what she thought of the surroundings as well as any implications that would affect landing on the planet.
Just as she clicked off the button for recording, Ruby heard the chief of security order a perimeter around the base. She rolled her eyes in perhaps a childish manner. "Is someone getting scared that the birds are gonna eat him?" Ruby called over to him with a giggle.</s>
<|message|>James Carson
James Carson
As soon as he heard the girl speak to him, all the excitement vanished, he had to be serious now. He turned towards the girl and looked at her for a few moments, as if he was a computer scanning something, before turning back towards the jungle as if expecting something to pop out of the forest and attack them.
"Not me, young lady, my meat is tough and hard to chew." He answered in a factual manner. "Though I imagine that you would be tender and easy to eat." He said to the girl in a quite casual manner. "But do not worry, my lady, it is my job to make sure that you do not end up in some creature's stomach."
After those words came out, he turned towards the girl after determining that nothing was going to attack them. "So please, if you feel something threatens you, then I am here to protect you." He said with a blank smile, his comment didn't feel reassuring, it felt more like he was stating a fact.</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Mentioned: @Raptor
"Well, there's that" commented Alden with an amused half smirk, poking some wind chimes they'd brought along. It was good luck when visiting new planets, it let people know of potential storms if they hadn't yet gotten their systems up and running. Shaking his head, the man soon left the shelter he and Aubrey now owned, leaving to go find his lover he spotted her over by some vehicles. Briskly walking over, he leaned over from behind to kiss her cheek "Liking our new planet so far?" he asked, wrapping his arms around Aubrey with care and affection</s>
<|message|>Aubrey Lochlan
Mentioned: @Metadude
"Working already?" Lucia asked, raising her eyebrow at her fellow crew mate. "Well, I'm headed to look at some plants by the Nerpa, it looked like they might have some type of fruit and ya'know, it would be kinda useful to know if it's safe to eat or not," Aubrey replied, shifting her equipment case to her other hand. It was also something Elias had asked her to look into when she had the chance, ever being one to think ahead in case disaster should strike.
She jumped at the unexpected kiss and looked up to see Alden, grinning brightly and turned to return the hug. "I am! The birds are my favorite so far," She said. "I'm heading to the Nepra, care to join me or do you have some work to do still?"
---
Mentioned: @Claw2k11
Elias didn't stray far from his ship just yet, scrolling through his data pad and briefly looking up when he heard Carson call out for a perimeter to be set up, quickly hailing him over comms. "Don't go to far, we're sticking fairly close to the ship for now until everyone gets temporary shelters set up," He said. "Also talk to Lucia about getting the fence set up once you define the perimeter, clock says we've got 6 hours before sunset."</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Mentioned: @Raptor
"I need to start setting up the computers" sighed the man, shaking his head briefly "But, if I get it done within' the next few hours, i'll come find you". Planting another soft kiss on Aubrey's cheek, the man let her go "Have fun, don't poke the birds... or the plants... they might like fingers" he added teasingly, waving her and Lucia off as he returned to work
Meanwhile, A-01 was surveying the surrounding area, placing barrier kits while Meta and Cuddles set them up one by one, slowly creating a protective field around the large camp they'd set up.</s>
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
Ruby quirked an eyebrow as she was stared at by James, and for a moment she wondered if he was some kind of android that was failing to compute. The thought of breaking a robot this easily made her grin. His words, however, were a slight surprise to her: How was she supposed to react at being called tender and easy to eat?
James then seemed to go on about how he would protect her, and Ruby forced herself to not giggle away. "Oh, please. You're not the only one assigned to security. In a manner of speaking," she said, patting her sidearm. "Though if I do need some help, I'll be sure to ask for you," she grinned, crossing her arms. "Speaking of, is there anything you need help with? I'm currently free until I decide to find someone and disturb, or annoy, them." Ruby could not help but wink at him.</s>
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<|message|>Kari (Kah-Ree) Sabaan (Say-Bahn)
Nepra. It was the name of the ship that she had been aboard for some time now. Every day was some sort of adventure or journey for Kari Sabaan. Had a part of her not have joined for helping move her race forward, she might have even adopted Nepra as her name in place of her settlement name. However many duties she had to take care of as the daughter of one of the settlement leaders, and an unofficial ambassador for the Mynua, everything was so fun and new. So many new people with lives and stories completely different from her own. The levels of technology were far different from what she had grown up with back on Hephaestus, and now she was on a journey to help colonize a planet for everyone!
She wasn't even quite sure if it had been given a name yet, the planet. Hopefully it wouldn't be one of those boring Human names, like the ones that were just a garbled mixture of letters and numbers. Maybe they could name this planet after a Mynua deity, like the humans did with their even older pantheons. She could only hope. It would be a great service to her people if she could, though.
She waited patiently until everyone was ready to leave the ship before she herself went off to study. From the Nepra, Kari could see just how different it was from Hephaestus. The birds were so wonderful and elegant. However, her eyes were on the ground. She was already on the ground, taking samples here and there to compare to her library. Having friends and talking was fun and all, but she enjoyed her work far too much to let those things distract her from what was really important here.
Rocks Rock.</s>
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<|description|>Kari (Kah-Ree) Sabaan (Say-Bahn)
Age: 82 "Earth Years", would be considered somewhere in her late mid thirties if proportional to a human's lifespan. (Human's are awfully attached to their dead homeworld, still using its system to time for measurements and all.)
Gender: Female
Height: 6'5"
Species: The Mynua are a native race of the planet the Human's call Hephaestus. Somewhere in between insect and human-like, the Mynua have three layers of skin. The outer layer, hard and plated, the mid layer, still rough and course, placed in areas between the plates of the outer layer so the Mynua can maneuver, and the inner layer, soft and fleshy, like a human's skin. The mid layer of skin only really applies to the center of the body, where all of the important organs are. The outer layer generates a dome over one's head, helpful against falling debris and shade from the sun. They have even created visors to further help protection against the sun.
Over time, the Mynua have developed a single system of communication spread across the planet. Over the millions of years in which the species has slowly grown and evolved, it is the culmination of many different languages that the Mynua have used.
The Mynua primarily live underground, underneath the hot surface of the planet, and where most, if not all of the water is located. While they are not barbaric, the Mynua live simple lives. While settlements have been established all over the planet, the Mynua are typically nomads, traveling from one settlement to the next. Settlements had leaders, as groups always did, and people played their parts with subjects they were best in. Everyone had a place to do something, no matter how ordinary or strange it may be. There was always a reason, even if it could not yet be understood. They trade and offer wisdom from other settlements, keeping everyone connected in a more analogue way than what can be accomplished with their technological advancements before the Human's came.
Once the Humans arrived, it took a little for peace to be cemented between the two species. The Mynua firmly believed that there were beings further than what they could see, as well as believing in a pantheon of creators. Once communication was established between the two on a level that they could both understand, the Mynua allowed them to travel the surface. They did not take too kindly to having their planet being mined out, but allowed in on the conditions that the Mynua would be overseeing the operations, and change things as they needed to be changed. After a little compromise, things were easy between the two, even if they were not the best of friends with one another.
The Mynua, like humans, use sirnames, but only in application to their settlement/clan/grouping. This means that their sirname can change more than once throughout their life. Those who do not live under a clan or grouping are known as "Kasha". This is both a grouping term for those on their own, and used is as any other sirname would be used.
Role: Geologist.
Affiliation: The Mynua species, Acionna Expedition
Relationship Status: Single
Appearance:
Facts/Backstory: Kari grew up in the Sabaan settlement, in the northern part of the planet. The settlement itself was deeper underground than most, and was probably just as hot as the surface above. That was just how Kari liked it, though. She enjoyed spending hours looking at all of the different creatures and rocks around and above her, Not to mention her mother and father were not too keen on letting her up on the surface to talk to the Humans.
As she grew older, she wandered further and further upwards, eventually finding the surface and the Humans that lived there. She talked to them. Her settlement was one of the last to not have direct contact with the Humans. She supposed it made sense. They weren't too keen on outsiders in the first place, and even if they were from beyond the surface, they would not always be welcomed with open arms. However, she took this chance to learn more about them.
Time passed and she had eventually gotten the leader of her settlement, her own father, to talk directly with the humans. She didn't want to stop there, though. She wanted to prove that these outsiders were friendly, and could be trusted. It was about that time that she started looking for ways to push relations even further, by joining Human organizations.
She went to the stars, learning about all of the other races she knew so very little about, and knew that this was her place. She belonged in the Final Frontier.
Fact - Kari cannot whistle. Almost everyone else she knows can, but she has never been able to, no matter how hard she tried.
Weapons: Tool Kit - Though the Mynua have strong claws for piercing rocks, there are a few things that she needs to help with her studies and finds. Dusts, pics of various materials for different uses, and small containers for storing delicate items in.
Visor and Interface - Because of her lack of hands, using tools and computers can be quite difficult for any Mynua. However, a joint project between Humans and the Mynua have allowed them to better access everything that a human can. The visor now serves as a Heads-Up-Display, in addition to just protection from the sun, and small sensors have been place within the organic armor to allow Kari to use electronic devices, such as computers, vehicles, and other tools, while just moving her body and extra appendages to control them. This makes physical contact with devices obsolete, and very helpful to the Mynua in general.
Skills: Bilingual - Kari is fluent in both Mynuan and the Earth English, and can translate between the two rather easily. Though sometimes she can become distracted and overwhelmed, using the other language when it has no place in the particular area.
Geology - She had taken up the study of the ground underneath and above her when she was very little, having loved all of the different types of minerals and rocks around her. Humans had a refined section of study based on that of just rocks, and Kari fell in love. Her species has no official "degrees" or learning, but she has spent decades of her life learning about geology, Kari herself believing that she has a mastery over the subject.</s>
<|message|>Kari (Kah-Ree) Sabaan (Say-Bahn)
The more that Kari collected her samples, the more she found small groupings of the same things. Not uncommon at all. Simple stuff, from what she has studied back home and on the ship. However, it did remind her of her situation. It was her decision in the end, after all. She was the only Mynua from her settlement on the entire ship. There were only a handful that had the honor of being apart of the expedition. Her people weren't horribly Xenophobic, but they were not completely welcoming of new people.
She really should talk to some people.
She felt that she had collected enough samples. Her pincers were just maneuverable enough for her to place everything that she had chipped away so neatly and carefully into the little containers on the pouch attached to her waist. She could return to the ship and get to cracking on those rocks. She giggled to herself. Even after all of this time, she was still so young at heart. She still had a long way to go, though. Due to the nature of her species and how they lived, they could be alive for quite a long time.
Kari needed to stop herself, though. She needed to go out and talk to the others. She had been a bit of a... A. Spider. The Brown one. The word escaped her. It didn't like people. She'd have to ask one of the Human crew members if they knew what it was. Bottom line, she didn't talk to the crew as much as she should have, especially as the Ambassador for the Mynua. Well, unofficial Ambassador. She needed to be friendly with the peoples. So many Kasha, she assumed. So many people away from their homes. Maybe she would find something in common with them, if she could only urge herself to actually go and talk to someone.
She wanted to speak. She really did. The only thing she did, though was just stand around on two legs awkwardly, looking for someone to talk to. Maybe she could go back on the ship and find someone on the way to her lab. Maybe she could just take a minute to walk around and get to know some of the people that she would be talking to in the near future.
For now, she just... sorta stood around, bouncing on her digitigrade legs. They were so thin, so bony and skinny. The mid layer of her skin practically didn't exist down there, other than where her legs bent, of course. It was a little weird, sometimes she was on her hands and legs, and sometimes just her legs. Human's didn't seem to do that. They didn't seem to be much for climbing through caves, though. She wanted to know more about them.
But she was rambling, keeping herself from actually talking to people. Maybe those Zenohunts first. She just didn't know what to do!</s>
<|message|>James Carson
James Carson
He listened with some interest, which was something odd, considering that his emotions were heavily suppressed. As soon as she asked him about himself, he thought for a moment if he was allowed to say everything that had transpired in his life, but in the end he shrugged and answered.
"I was born on Hephaestus to a family of miners, I was abducted at an early age by some secret governmental organization that was bent on turning people into super-soldiers." he said, when he felt a small shock of pain, nothing he couldn't handle. "So they enhanced my strength, my mind, all of my senses and they even heavily suppressed my emotions so that I wouldn't feel fear in battle." he spoke, with the pain getting stronger each second he spoke about his past, even so, it was still way below his pain threshold to hurt him significantly. "They made more enhancements to my body while I was asleep so I do not know what they were... anyway, after a countless number of years, they decided to place me into this expedition, using their governmental positions to place me here as chief of security, though it is beyond my understanding why they would do so."
As soon as he stopped speaking, the pain slowly started to subside. "Wait... why did you choose to come here if you had the luxury of choice to go wherever in military you wished?"</s>
<|message|>Ruby Indigo
Ruby Indigo
Mentioned in this Post:
- James Carson
Interest sparked within Ruby as the chief of security spoke about being abducted and placed into a super-soldier program. She took mental notes as he went on to explain what the organisation did to him: From what she could recall, the files only described him as a normal soldier, nothing that special about him, even though there were some subnotes including suspicion about his capabilities. The suspicion seemed justified, Ruby could check some boxes when she had a moment.
James then asked Ruby why she chose to come on the expedition. "Oh, you don't understand, I can go to any section or the military or remain a true intelligence person, but I have little leeway when it comes to deployment," she says.</s>
<|message|>Aubrey Lochlan
Mentioned: @Nevix
"No, you're old, I'm wise. Never been called a saint before though," Lucia said with a smirk. "And you could've asked and used the dolly to do most of the hard work." She pushed off from the previously mentioned dolly she'd been leaning against and walked over with a cheshirelike grin. "I've got some time before making anymore deliveries, so how about a friendly game of poker? I'll try to go easy on you this time."
She produced a deck of cards from one of the many pockets on her cargo pants and moved over to the table, starting to shuffle the deck. "So, excited to be on a new, possibly hostile planet?" She asked, now trying to make idle conversation as she began to deal. "Five card draw or Texas Hold'em?"
---
Mentioned: @pyroman
Aubrey hummed while she worked, finished with taking samples from the bush and moving on to find some other possibly food bearing plant. She found a tree and scowled for a moment as the looked up to what appeared to be something like a giant seed pod hanging in groupings of five. Well that wasn't good, she didn't have a ladder and there weren't any smaller trees near by. She was close to the Nepra though, maybe there was something she could use from the ship to help? She sighed and turned to start walking, pausing as she spotted Kari, grinning.
"Kari, perfect!" She said happily and started over to the Mynua. "Hey there, having fun?" Aubrey asked with a friendly smile.</s>
<|message|>Alden Terrem
Alden continued to work with the computers, enhancing their network and bugstomping for errors. Normally, you wouldn't need to do such a thing, but with so many different systems and requirements, it was a must, especially on an alien world without easy access to the main Planetary network. "Just... a little... more" cooed the man softly, tweaking part of the software to run more efficiently on the power available "Gotcha" sighed Alden with relief. The systems were slightly slower, but they had less power draw on the other parts of their camp, keeping the barrier stable at all times. He would rather slow computers over a slow death any day.</s>
<|message|>Thomas Dunn
Thomas Dunn
---
"Five card draw? I look like an amateur to you?" He said, cocking an eyebrow as he sat down in his chair, immediately tipping it back on two legs. He thought about the mechanic's earlier question. "Excited, eh? To be on a new planet? Maybe a little bit. Hostile? That's got me intrigued. If we're being frank, I miss the military, I miss danger." He smirked. "Or, at least, I'll miss it right up until some alien-thing is eating my kidneys." He got his cards and smiled. Pocket Jacks. There were, of course, three cards on the table, at the moment. A king, a four, and a six. The fourth card was another king. The corner of his mouth twitched into something resembling a smile. He didn't fold. He glared at the deck.
Come on, you rat bastard! He mentally shouted at the cards. Give me a Jack. I need a Jack, or a king. Come on, come on, c'mon, comeoncomecomeon!
It was a five. Thomas groaned, laying down his cards.
"Two pair. Jacks and Kings." He said, dejectedly. "I was this close. Could have had a full house."</s>
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<|message|>Kari (Kah-Ree) Sabaan (Say-Bahn)
"Hey there, having fun?"
She had been so mixed up in just standing around to notice that someone had been calling for attention. Kari looked to the Human who had addressed her. It was Audrey, resident biologist, who had some to her rescue. The visor that had once covered a great portion of her face slipping up and behind her, revealing a face quite similar to a Humans, but with angles as sharp as rocks. Kari smiled, her eyes yellow and reminiscent of a Human Cat's shining.
"Very much so." She nodded. Her pincers clipped at the pouch at her side. "It's so exciting to be on an uncharted world. There's so much to find here!" She was a long way from home, but she was enjoying it. Aubrey, from Kari's memory, was also born on Hephaestus. However, due to their differing species, they probably had different memories of home. "It's a long way from Home. All of us together, we aren't Kasha, but we are wanderers on an unknown land."</s>
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<|description|>Hayashi Miako
height- 5'8", Usually seen with a tiny ponytail,
Abdominal, arm, leg, and back muscles are slightly developed keeping a very athletic figure yet keeping her feminine shape. Her bust is a C cup, but uses a binder as they are a bit distracting.
Age: 16
Year:Second
Personality: Overly brash about things, but uses some tactical insight. Persuades people in her way by compromise and tries to be fair (though you might have to state your views). Miako is dense in the feelings of others and fails to notice certain things unless you are direct.
Likes to be friendly with everyone, but will be awkward at first meeting. Though a bit laid back, Miako has a pursuing nature when it comes things she wants.
Many times, she is known as being in people's business and lectures them if she disagrees with them, though it's not favorable.
In a relationship, Miako would shy away at first being that she hasn't been in an official one. She would take lead later on if it develops, (I'm still adding thoughts)
Background:
The third daughter of the Hayashi family, known for its ancient lore and its grievances.They are known as politicians, artists, musicians, as well as business men. At a young age, children are taught of the old tales and calligraphy. Swing them to be advanced in knowledge is common tale, though mostly they excel in history and languages.
Being one of the youngest of the daughters has excused her from being married off from her family or getting the best grades. This has caused a gap between she and her younger siblings with the older siblings, being raised differently and more carefree than them. At most, her younger siblings are let go of their mistakes as the older ones were treated as adults before the age of thirteen. Rarely do they talk to one another or seen, but Miako manages with the situation.
From kindergarten to junior high, Miako was allowed to coed school. She developed her egoistical personality as she experienced communicating with all. Though this growth, later on she would take bad influences from her upperclassmen such as smoking and taking part in delinquent activities. As her family would come to realize this, they would quickly move her to Saint Lilium for better discipline.
During her first year of highschool, she missed her friends and regretted most of her decisions of her earlier age. With overclming a state of depression, she wanted to prove she could aim for better and higher choices and worked hard to earn her family's approval once more.
Miako has gotten used to the usual routine of meeting only girls and rejecting the confessions she gets every now an then. All she can tell is that she has some sort of attraction to girls, however is yet to experience "the one".
Miako practices Kendo, Judo, and Aikido. Kendo being practiced as a mere hobby while Aikido and Judo seen as real self defense to her.
Other things:
Can't eat sweets for the most part, has a thing for birds, always early to class but doesn't plan to be a perfect student, smoking habit, outside clothes are usually rough and simple and her uniform is usually messed up.
Her family is made up of 10 people.
Younger siblings- Mako 9, Aki 10, Yukari 12, Miako 16
Older siblings- Shoji 18, Reiko Kurihara (m) 22, Minako Hirose (m) 25, Ichiro Hayashi 26
Club: Kenjutsu club, Airsoft
Theme: ?</s>
<|message|>Faye Fleury
Faye Fluery
The Knight
Faye stepped from her father's shiny black car, one of the newer Japanese models (though she couldn't name it to save her life), and grabbed her bags in both arms. Her father stepped from the car and walked over to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She nearly flinched away from the touch, but she was doing her best to try allowing him into her life; it would just take a while.
"I'm so proud of you, mon amie." He said, his pronunciation as awful as ever, but she appreciated him for trying to speak some words in her native tongue. "It makes me so happy to have you in my life and to come all the way here to spend your high school years with me."
"Thank you, father." She said in her calm and almost siren-esque voice that was like honey to foreign ears. "I can't wait to spend the breaks with you... though I don't know how well I'll... uh... transition into Japanese schooling."
He gave her a comforting smile and patted her shoulder. "You're a very bright young woman, Faye. You'll most likely struggle with speaking, but your reading and writing of Japanese is nearly impeccable. I've heard that this school is filled with many talented and bright young women that would be more than happy to welcome you into our culture."
Faye looked towards the shining pinnacle of hope that was the academy. "Thank you, F-Father..." With that, he kissed her on the forehead and they said their goodbyes--simple, yet heartfelt. She couldn't believe that after all these years, she'd finally met her flesh-and-blood father, yet he still had a long ways to go until she could call him "father" comfortably.
The young French woman then grabbed her bags and headed through the gates, gazing around at the blossoms falling around her as if she were in one of the fairy tales that Hugo had once read to her as a child. Her heart throbbed, but it didn't linger as long as it once had. Don't worry, Hugo... I'll still become the knight that you longed for me to become. It's been a few years, but a true knight never forgets the vows they have taken.</s>
<|message|>Oka Saori
"Fuuck..."
Saori sighed as she sat in the theater club room. This would be the last year of high school for her. Finally, it would end and she would be able to find a college. Honestly, she regretted enrolling in the school because she didn't have much time to be with her family since she didn't live with them anymore. If she did, she would've been able to spend so much more time for them. Whatever. It didn't matter anymore. The past is the past, and she made her decision long ago. Besides, she might be able to get into a high-prestige school abroad like Julliand or another school that offers classes in French or Japanese. That's something to look forward to at the end of the year. After she finishes school, she'll be able to go on the big stage, and that's the real benefit to all of this.
That's after the year ends, though. For now she'll have to deal with the last year, and any annoyances that come with it. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through it absentmindedly, keeling an eye on the door if anyone was to walk in.
"This is so boring!" She said to herself, as she had nothing to do. She had already unpacked, but she hasn't seen her roommate yet. There were better chances of more people coming to the club room early rather than waiting in her dorm just for one person. Even if she did, that would seem pretty weird, so there's no point in doing it unless she wanted to creep her roommate out.
She kept thinking to herself of what would happen after the year ends.</s>
<|message|>Reinhardt, Eris & Enyo "Eins".
Reinhardt ⚜ Twins
The day was beautiful and shining when the Reinhardt twins arrived Saint Lilium's gates, in a very nondescript taxi that they have boarded about an hour ago as they left their room at one the annex city's best hotels. The breeze carried the sweet scent of cherry blossoms inside the black sedan as one of the sisters lowered her window, prompting a sigh from the other, who went to lightly rub her temples, as if she wished to dispel a migraine.
The twins had arrived back on Nipponese lands yesterday, after spending half a day on board of an airliner in a Berlim - Tokyo flight and then a few hours by train and car until they finally reached their hotel with like fourteen hours left before current time. Needless to say, such a long, nearly non-stop, trip tends to take a toll on anyone's body and, at least one of the exquisite looking twins made that quite apparent.
"Argh... can't we go back to the hotel and come here tomorrow, Eins? I'm dead." Eris complained as she took their bags from the car's trunk while Eins paid the driver, leaving quite a large tip that was unusual for a Japanese. In fact, it was Eins' fault that Eris couldn't rest anything in the few hours that they had.
"How can you say something like this, Sis? You was the one who wanted to stay up until late. Either way, we will have plenty of time to rest later, is we don't rush we will lose the opening ceremony."
"Sigh..." Eris refused to go through the bother of recollecting what they did. Her head hurt too much for that, but the fact is that Eins was the only one to get any real sleep, leaving her sister like a grumpy, old bear. "Do they even do things like that here? I don't remember it from last year."
"Well, you know how the Japanese value pomp and circumstance. We should drop our things by our room and see where we should be headed to, now. I just hope they put us in the same class again. In truth, there should be a law against separating twins."
"Fine, let's just go, I think I'll go to the Nurse and get an aspirin, or tea, that should help it. Anyway, I think others will get annoyed if we stand in the way like that."
"Right, Sis. Is it my impression or this place is more packed than last ye-ouch!" As Eins and Eris began to walk, the older of them lost her attention momentarily as she gazed at the courtyard full of blooming flowers, both literal and figuratively, and kind of ran, face first, into another girl that had just got out of a black Japanese sedan and exchanged brief parting words with an older man, presumably her father, given the intimate tone of their behavior.
A fierce, redheaded beauty and, if any of the twins could place it, of heavy Frankish descent, though traces of oriental people could be seen on her face, especially the eyes, and silhouette. A half-Japanese, or haafu, as some of the locals so obnoxiously insisted to say.
As Eins struggled to recompose herself for a moment, Eris stepped in, to avoid any misunderstandings that might happen. "Please, accept our apologies. My sister and I arrived from Berlim less than a day ago and jet lag is still taking a toll on us. By the way, I'm Eris and this is my older sister, Enyo, but you can call her Eins. Even if the circumstances are a bit mixed up, it's a pleasure making your acquaintance on this first school day of the year, miss..." Eris made a brief pause to allow the other girl to introduce herself, in case she wanted to, of course, as she extended her hand in a very clearly Western greeting.
"By the way, I'm sorry for the bumping. If I broke anything, please, let me repay you in whatever way you think is best." Eins said, joining her sister in the greeting proposal.
---
Vixen</s>
<|message|>Yukimura Sayuri
Yukimura Sayuri
This is it! My transformation from boring schoolgirl to enigmatic and beautiful upperclassman has finally begun!
Sayuri could barely contain her excitement as she dragged her suitcase through the gates. She had been planning this the whole break. After two years of not standing out at all, she had to make her final year the one where she's admired by all. And of course her preparation couldn't be topped - she had been collecting manga that featured tall, dark haired beauties that all the younger students squealed over and sent love letters to. She had grown her hair out and gotten it cut into the quintessential hime cut. She had replaced her ankle socks with elegant tights. And she had mastered the polite and mature way of speaking. There's no way the other students will be able to resist me!
Of course, Sayuri had planned this first day to the letter as well. She would arrive first in the theater club and sit there looking all mysterious until some other students arrived. Then, she would gracefully introduce herself. "Fufu~ It truly is a pleasure to meet you, my dears," she mouthed to herself as she turned the corner and entered the clubroom.
"..."
There was already a girl in there. Oh well! A true senpai cannot be fazed by changes of plans!
"F-fufu~ How delightful it is to see your face, my dear," she managed. There was a silence. W-why did I say that? That sounded so stupid out-loud! Okay Sayuri...just keep playing it cool... Sayuri cleared her throat slightly, trying to suppress the redness of embarrassment across her face.</s>
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<|message|>Hayashi Miako
"That's just life, isn't it? You win some, and you lose some," Asuka had replied with the usual irritation. Luckily my attempt had worked, Miako grinned.
"Truly, that does happen," Miako shrugged at the first comment with the thought in mind. "But in your case, the trade-off seems far from being even half fair, both parties included."
"Besides, she... just wasn't my type."
Miako bit her lip, her distaste for weak morals stressing. She sighed, grimacing at the thought of how the conversation would take a turn. But a small lecture wouldn't hurt... "A bit discourteous to the other person, is it not? If that was the case, you should have not chosen her."
"What an odd state to be in if you didn't even like the girl," She mumbled, knowing it's perceptibility.
Miako had looked off with a slight frustration, spotting a number of students already entering the campus. Clubs were calling and transfers were wondering about, might be nice to get there sooner or later... Eating the last bit of her bread, she jumped off from the high branch with her school carrier in her arms and rolled, reducing the pressure on her ankles.
Patting off dirt that got stuck on her clothes, Miako looked back at the upper classman, remembering what obligations should be given to elders."I won't be surprised if you don't take my offer in accompanying you to your dorm or walk to wherever you need to go as these areas don't provide you privacy- But! With my great grace, I ask."</s>
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<|description|>Hayashi Miako
height- 5'8", Usually seen with a tiny ponytail,
Abdominal, arm, leg, and back muscles are slightly developed keeping a very athletic figure yet keeping her feminine shape. Her bust is a C cup, but uses a binder as they are a bit distracting.
Age: 16
Year:Second
Personality: Overly brash about things, but uses some tactical insight. Persuades people in her way by compromise and tries to be fair (though you might have to state your views). Miako is dense in the feelings of others and fails to notice certain things unless you are direct.
Likes to be friendly with everyone, but will be awkward at first meeting. Though a bit laid back, Miako has a pursuing nature when it comes things she wants.
Many times, she is known as being in people's business and lectures them if she disagrees with them, though it's not favorable.
In a relationship, Miako would shy away at first being that she hasn't been in an official one. She would take lead later on if it develops, (I'm still adding thoughts)
Background:
The third daughter of the Hayashi family, known for its ancient lore and its grievances.They are known as politicians, artists, musicians, as well as business men. At a young age, children are taught of the old tales and calligraphy. Swing them to be advanced in knowledge is common tale, though mostly they excel in history and languages.
Being one of the youngest of the daughters has excused her from being married off from her family or getting the best grades. This has caused a gap between she and her younger siblings with the older siblings, being raised differently and more carefree than them. At most, her younger siblings are let go of their mistakes as the older ones were treated as adults before the age of thirteen. Rarely do they talk to one another or seen, but Miako manages with the situation.
From kindergarten to junior high, Miako was allowed to coed school. She developed her egoistical personality as she experienced communicating with all. Though this growth, later on she would take bad influences from her upperclassmen such as smoking and taking part in delinquent activities. As her family would come to realize this, they would quickly move her to Saint Lilium for better discipline.
During her first year of highschool, she missed her friends and regretted most of her decisions of her earlier age. With overclming a state of depression, she wanted to prove she could aim for better and higher choices and worked hard to earn her family's approval once more.
Miako has gotten used to the usual routine of meeting only girls and rejecting the confessions she gets every now an then. All she can tell is that she has some sort of attraction to girls, however is yet to experience "the one".
Miako practices Kendo, Judo, and Aikido. Kendo being practiced as a mere hobby while Aikido and Judo seen as real self defense to her.
Other things:
Can't eat sweets for the most part, has a thing for birds, always early to class but doesn't plan to be a perfect student, smoking habit, outside clothes are usually rough and simple and her uniform is usually messed up.
Her family is made up of 10 people.
Younger siblings- Mako 9, Aki 10, Yukari 12, Miako 16
Older siblings- Shoji 18, Reiko Kurihara (m) 22, Minako Hirose (m) 25, Ichiro Hayashi 26
Club: Kenjutsu club, Airsoft
Theme: ?</s>
<|message|>Reinhardt, Eris & Enyo "Eins".
Reinhardt ⚜ Twins
"Faye Fleury... I see," Eris repeated the name, pensively. Her guess that the fiery redhead before them was French has been confirmed. Anyway, the girl looked kinda lost and her Japanese was very rough around the edges, which more or less gave away Faye's status as a new student. "Something interesting to take note of."
"Nous pouvons parler en français, si vous voulez." Eins offered, "We can talk in French as well, if you'd like to", as she knelt to help Faye pick up her books. The Twins' French was crystal clear, dotted with a slight Normandy accent, their pronunciation and tone made justice to one of the most beautiful languages of the Romanic family.
One could almost hear the gasp Eins let out when they were called fair maiden by a girl, supposedly younger than them, that they had just met. Truth be told, the Reinhardt Twins were used to have their looks praised. However, habit didn't made it any less embarrassing.
"Ähm... Erde zu Traumland, bitte sende meine geliebte Schwester zurück ..."
It wasn't until a loud cough, followed by a verbal poke in their home language, coming from none other than Eris broke Eins' bubble that the older of the twins got back up, brushing her thigh high clad knees. Eins took a short breath, before replying to Faye's next question. "Oui, vous nous avez posé des questions sur les clubs, n'est-ce pas? En fait, nous sommes-" Eins relied in French once more "Oh right, you asked us about clubs, didn't you? Actually, we are-", hoping that she would reach to the other girl easier like that, though the platinum-haired Austrian interrupted herself with the sudden appearance of none other than Kagome Serizawa, the very own Academy's Headmistress.
"It's our pleasure to see you again, Headmistress Serizawa!" The twins said in unison, a skill deeply ingrained in them, offering a courteous bow before Eris shook the older woman's hand, firmly, but delicately as well. Just what you'd expect of Germanic descended nobility.
"You don't need to address us any differently than the other students, Headmistress. It's our second year here, thus we are quite acquainted to the customs of Japan. Well, most of them, at least." Eris took a sideway glance, remembering the many blunders Eins and she committed on the previous year. "We were talking to Miss Faye about clubs. She seems interested in the Literature Club and we thought we could introduce her to the Library, since we have a lot of acquaintances there, despite being part of the Theater Club. That is, if Miss Faye wants, of course."
---
Vixen@Rusalka</s>
<|message|>Faye Fleury
Faye Fluery
The Knight
Faye's amber eyes glowed with delight when she heard them speaking French--and very fluently to put the icing on the cake. "Je ne suis pas trop pointilleux sur la langue dans laquelle nous parlons, bien que je trouve votre français assez séduisant." ("I am not overly picky about which language we speak in, though I do find your French to be quite alluring.") The French girl said in as excited of a tone that she could muster, which still was calm as a lake on a day with no wind. "I assume that you maidens are from Austria? I cannot speak your language, but I am quite thrilled at the thought of sharing such a school with fellow foreigners."
When she sensed a hint of poking fun at Eins, she smiled warmly and spoke, "Je suppose que je ne devrais pas vous demander pourquoi les oiseaux chanteurs ont de si belles chansons quand il a toujours été ainsi ... Pas de raison de vous demander pourquoi vos voix m'apporter une telle paix dans une telle place étrangère." ("I suppose that I should not question why songbirds have such lovely songs when it always has been that way... No reason to question why your voices bring me such peace in such a foreign place.")
Then Eins began to explain the clubs, alas, an older woman stepped in to join the conversation. The French woman recognized that the woman was the headmistress and was about to give her a customary bow of appreciation when the woman immediately began to apologize and held out her hand in a western greeting. She shook the woman's hand gently and listened to the twins as they spoke in harmony. She couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine at the symmetry and unity they shared.
"C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer, directrice." Faye stated. "It would be my honor to have these two maidens show me around."
---
@Rusalka</s>
<|message|>Tanigawa Yatsumi
Tanigawa Yatsumi
The smaller girl, who adorably introduced herself as Kimura Chou, surprisingly kept her spider on her head, which still dangled about without a care in the world.
"-This was field research on my part, as I specialise in horror manga and like to keep my characters' reactions authentic. I'll be in your care."
Field research? Well, that was one way to get inspiration: A darn good one at that, why hadn't Yatsumi thought of such a thing? Oh right, because 2D is way better. But 2D is just an improved version of 3D, so she supposed that producers and artists had to do the same thing this girl did in the first place. "That's genius" Yatsumi unknowingly muttered under her breath, thinking she was just speaking internally.
"Oh, right, I forgot to introduce myself," Yatsumi suddenly said, after realising that she must've looked incredibly daft for a moment there. After quickly patting her hair back down, Yatsumi bowed forward and presented herself, "I'm Tanigawa Yatsumi, I'm a second year. I don't really specialise in any kind of Manga, because I just want to produce magazines!"
Yatsumi immediately perked up, pushing the Clubroom's door wide open and wildly gesturing toward it. "Well, Kimura-chan, this is the waifu-cave," she said, ushering the younger girl in. The Manga Club looked like a mix between a classroom and an Otaku's dream home. Yatsumi gestured to the large chalkboard at the front of the room, "we use this to brain-storm ideas and characters for our group project," she explained, "we do do our own stuff too, but we just need to do at least one group project every semester to keep the club going. Company rules."
Anime posters adorned the club's walls, and on the back wall was a shelf filled with manga and scale-figurines. Yatsumi lead Chou over as she clarified, "now all of these have been donated by past club members and some by Manga Pop!, so you have to be very careful with them, but they're free to use." Oh, how she loved Manga Pop! Kimura vowed that she'd either work for them, or make her own magazine which would be just as good.
Now there was desks in the club room, but the room also had soft furniture - specifically, two bright beanbags in front of the bookshelf, one blue, and one red. The actual drawing stations were placed along the walls, facing away from everybody, so people could concentrate. The light table lived in the darkest part of the room, and the inking table was a longer table that sat underneath the window.
Yatsumi's bag still sat on one of the middle tables, as she hadn't even thought about going to her dorm yet. Though she supposed that she should, because class was due to start soon. She just kind of stared at it for a moment before the action actually kicked in. Scooping up her bag, Yatsumi looked over toward Chou and hastily bowed as she edged back toward the door, "it was really nice to meet you, but I'm a total airhead and I've gotta go!"
Yatsumi darted out of the club room, calling back, "I'll see you after school!"
---
Yatsumi crossed the school ground, heading toward the dormitory. Of course, she'd forgotten which dorm she was due in, so Yatsumi was awkwardly trying to locate a scrap bit of paper in the front of her bag as she walked, and of course, stumbled right into the garden because she wasn't paying attention. Maybe she really was a ditsy anime character.
She didn't know how she did it, but Yatsumi had somehow contorted herself among the branches of the bush, so she was half-sticking out of the bush in the strangest position. As she squirmed about, trying to escape, she prayed that no-one could see her.</s>
<|message|>Oka Saori
"I am called Sayuri, Yukimura Sayuri, and it is the greatest pleasure to-" Huh? Another girl appeared at the doorway. Pretty sure she wasn't a theater student, so Saori had no idea why she was here. Until she heard what she had to say, of course.
"Hah! Wow, that was hella gay, Onee-Sama! Where'd ya learn that? Strawberry Panic?"
Oh, putain. First day and there's already someone trying to start shit. Yeah, the Sayuri girl sounded stupid, but there's no real need for this. Saori felt pretty bad for her, too, because she was visibly embarrassed.
"T-that's - don't be ridiculous! It's called being polite! Something I'm sure you wouldn't know of."
"Aww, did I scratch your crown there little Hime. Sorry. Heh, I could care less about being polite, Miss Try Hardy. As far as I'm concerned, nobody here's polite to me, so why should I care. Name's Tohru by the way, not that you give a damn probably." Tohru said. Geez, she didn't have to be that harsh. I mean, it really wasn't any of her business, so why does it even matter to her?
"Ey girly, this chick bugging you? If you want, I can pop that smug little face of hers!"
"No, I'm fine. I just want to know if you want to have any friends or not. If you do, what's the point of fucking with other people like this?" She asked. "'Cause all it'll do is make people not like you. And then everyone would make fun of you, which I assume they're already doing now. That doesn't sound like an enjoyable high school experience to me. If you can't enjoy the school, what's the point of even being in it?" She looked down again at her phone. "I'd prefer it if you would just leave Sayuri alone, but if you don't want to now, I'll wait.
@Rusalka</s>
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<|message|>Hayashi Miako
Miako raised an eyebrow to her upperclassman. Last time she had tried to lecture someone, three girls had end up crying. I suppose I shouldn't underestimate anyone's strengths, she thought. Maybe she didn't care for the girl after all... She erased the last part from her mind, attempting to elude herself from rambling once more.
A bit nosy, aren't I?
"Fine choice, m'lady," she replied with a slight smile. Miako noticed Asuka's narrowed eyes and mimicked them in reply before turning her back and walking toward the campus. "To where does duty call you, Miss Hanazon? Your pony, perhaps?" Miako jested. " I can offer to buy you a snack as well, if you wish."</s>
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<|description|>Faye Fleury
Appearance:
Age:
16
Year:
Second
Personality:
Faye is the type of girl that never backs down from a challenge, making her seem impossibly stubborn. Despite her stubbornness, she is rather kind and is willing to give anyone the shirt off her back if it meant that they would be happier in the long run. She has a heart of gold and likes to believe that if she were to be in a fantasy game or novel, she would be the knight in shining armor rather than the damsel in distress. She longs to be looked upon as a heroine and a strong individual, though she will do anything in her power to get that impression out of people. Her calm demeanor makes her easy to talk to, though she is a girl of few words until you get to know her. She hates chaos and likes to make sure that everything is kept in order. She hates it when things don't go as planned or if she doesn't have a hand in a situation that directly involves her.
Faye appears to be be very strong, but in reality, she is a bundle of insecurity. She would never admit that she is a big softy that has a collection of plushies and likes reading sappy romance novels.
Background:
Faye was born and raised in northern France, living in a small rural village along the French coast. Her father, a Japanese business man, had met her mother when traveling and they fell in love--and you can guess the rest. After finishing his business in France, her father would have to return to Japan just before her mother could admit to being pregnant with his child. Despite being left to never know if he would ever return, she soon had their child, Faye, and was soon remarried to a nice man within their village and he helped to raise her as if she were his own.
Faye lived an average childhood, nothing out of the ordinary; she was very much in love with literature and storytelling. Having grown up just hours away from Omaha Beach, she would visit the site as often as she could to pretend to play out the stories that surrounded that fateful and bloody day. Her older step-brother, Hugo, would often retell the story of the war in such a way to make it seem as if it had happened in a fantasy world to make the history more interesting to her. She and Hugo would oftentimes be found running to and from the library or local bookstores with large bags of books filled with stories of knights, dragons, and princesses. She believed that her older brother was a noble knight, and wanted nothing more than to be his squire, so that she could become like him.
By the time she was seven, Hugo was graduating high school and planned to travel to Italy to continue his education. He told her that as soon as she was old enough, he would "make her his squire", and she was so excited that she promised that she would do her best to train so that he would be proud of her. Even though they made that promise, it would never come true, because Hugo would never return home. He was caught in the middle of a robbery and was murdered without any hesitation. The news devastated the young Faye, yet she vowed that she would one day become the knight that he would have wanted her to be...
Flash-forward a few years...
It wasn't until she was 13 or so when her birth father returned to the area in hopes of seeing what had become of his beloved French maiden. Faye was intrigued by the man, although she had no clue that she was his daughter, and when she stepped out to get a closer look at the stranger that spoke with a terrible accent, he saw her. The moment they locked eyes, they both seemed to know who the other was. Her mother explained to him what had happened and that she had hoped that Faye would never have to meet him until she was ready. Her father looked afraid for a few moments, before he explained that he would like to be able to take her back to Japan with him to make up for the lost time when she was old enough to decide for herself.
He stayed in the town for a few months and got to make up for some of the lost time with his daughter, who even though she did not view him as her father, but as a good friend that could possibly one day be something like a father figure. He taught her Japanese and told her of the wonderful schools that would open a million opportunities if she chose to go back to Japan with him. Knowing that it would break her mother's heart, she chose to go to Japan when she was done with her first year of high school and had learned more about her father's country and culture. Throughout her transition from France to Japan, she took many trips to Japan in hopes of bonding with her father despite his busy schedule.
She longed to spread her wings and live up to being the "knight" that Hugo would have wanted her to be.
Other things:
Faye knows fencing and is bilingual in both French and Japanese (though the latter is still shaky at times). She is a good cook, but is terrible at preparing Japanese dishes. She learned how to play piano at a young age due to her mother's constant desire to have a musically inclined child, though she is not comfortable playing in front of others.
Club:
Literature Club
Theme:
Anna Sun - WALK THE MOON</s>
<|message|>Kimura Chou
~Kimura Chou~
Saint Lilium's Academy for Young Women. I did it! Chou mentally cheered. She'd made it into this school, complete with its own Manga Club! Finally being able to surround herself with people that shared her aspirations was quite the relief, best demonstrated in her eagerness to get to the club room and meet the other club members, new and old alike. Map in hand and bag over her back, Chou navigated the halls of the school's buildings, first visiting her very own dorm room to drop off the small amount of luggage she'd brought along. I can unpack later. After the dorm, her next stop was the Manga Club's room.
She'd gotten lost a few times and had to ask for directions, but ultimately, Chou had arrived without incident. To see somebody else was already there, even! Whoever she was, she seemed to be pretty relaxed, arms behind her head and all. And her eyes were closed. Idea. How better to get to know somebody than by jumping right into it? It wasn't social interaction that Chou was jumping into, however. Oh no. Instead, the new student reached into her bag, her hand emerging with a large stuffed spider. She planned to jump right into "studying" this stranger in the clubroom. And so, Chou - after a bit of aiming - tossed the stuffed spider - about the size of a person's head - into the clubroom, landing the plush arachnid on a table just near the other student with a soft oomph.
She'd have to pay attention to what happened next.</s>
<|message|>Tanigawa Yatsumi
Tanigawa Yatsumi
As she lounged about, Yatsumi wondered how her year in Manga Club would pan out - of course, she did keep up with her studies; because after all, you can't produce without a degree. And who knows, maybe she'd be able to spend a year at college with her older brother, at least then someone would be able to show her the ropes. Unlike last year when she started at Saint Lilium's; she kept getting lost all her first week because none of her friends from middle school joined her, and of course she was too shy to start a conversation with anyone else. And there was the fact that she felt silly for not having picked it all up so quickly.
But this year, she was a second year, and could be someone's senpai. Surely she could be useful to someone this year, maybe she could help first year girls not make the same mistakes she did. Of course, there was the fact that speaking to new people was terrifying, even if it was a young filly-
oomph!
The sound of movement pulled Yatsumi out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes and glanced over to the desk next to her, where an abnormally large spider had decided to sit. Of course, Yatsumi screamed and jolted up. She figured that if she were in a comedy anime, she of course would have just jumped into the ceiling and gotten stuck - but this was real life: So she just fell off her chair, wildly flailing before she landed with a hard thud on the floor, tangled amongst the legs of the other tables and chairs.
"Ow..." she groaned as she sat up, rubbing her hand over now tangled mop of black hair on her head. She looked again at the spider, who hadn't even flinched, other than shifting slightly when her foot had kicked the table when she fell. Slowly getting up, Yatsumi closely inspected the spider - it was just a plush. When she picked it up, the legs just dangled over her hands, bouncing whenever she bobbed her hands. This definitely wasn't here before, but who threw it? She was the only one here, wasn't she?
Yatsumi wandered to the door way, spider in hands. She looked down the hall one way, nothing. But as soon as she turned around to look down the other way, she was greeted by the presence of a small, dark haired girl with red eyes. Yatsumi blinked, looked down to the spider, and back to the girl. "I assume this is yours, then?" she asked with a pout, lifting the spider and plopping it onto the girl's head. Frankly, it just made her look even more adorable than she already did, though probably just because she had a stuffed toy on her head, dangling all eight of it's legs about her skull and face.</s>
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<|message|>Faye Fleury
Faye Fluery
The Knight
Faye stepped from her father's shiny black car, one of the newer Japanese models (though she couldn't name it to save her life), and grabbed her bags in both arms. Her father stepped from the car and walked over to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She nearly flinched away from the touch, but she was doing her best to try allowing him into her life; it would just take a while.
"I'm so proud of you, mon amie." He said, his pronunciation as awful as ever, but she appreciated him for trying to speak some words in her native tongue. "It makes me so happy to have you in my life and to come all the way here to spend your high school years with me."
"Thank you, father." She said in her calm and almost siren-esque voice that was like honey to foreign ears. "I can't wait to spend the breaks with you... though I don't know how well I'll... uh... transition into Japanese schooling."
He gave her a comforting smile and patted her shoulder. "You're a very bright young woman, Faye. You'll most likely struggle with speaking, but your reading and writing of Japanese is nearly impeccable. I've heard that this school is filled with many talented and bright young women that would be more than happy to welcome you into our culture."
Faye looked towards the shining pinnacle of hope that was the academy. "Thank you, F-Father..." With that, he kissed her on the forehead and they said their goodbyes--simple, yet heartfelt. She couldn't believe that after all these years, she'd finally met her flesh-and-blood father, yet he still had a long ways to go until she could call him "father" comfortably.
The young French woman then grabbed her bags and headed through the gates, gazing around at the blossoms falling around her as if she were in one of the fairy tales that Hugo had once read to her as a child. Her heart throbbed, but it didn't linger as long as it once had. Don't worry, Hugo... I'll still become the knight that you longed for me to become. It's been a few years, but a true knight never forgets the vows they have taken.</s>
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<|description|>Faye Fleury
Appearance:
Age:
16
Year:
Second
Personality:
Faye is the type of girl that never backs down from a challenge, making her seem impossibly stubborn. Despite her stubbornness, she is rather kind and is willing to give anyone the shirt off her back if it meant that they would be happier in the long run. She has a heart of gold and likes to believe that if she were to be in a fantasy game or novel, she would be the knight in shining armor rather than the damsel in distress. She longs to be looked upon as a heroine and a strong individual, though she will do anything in her power to get that impression out of people. Her calm demeanor makes her easy to talk to, though she is a girl of few words until you get to know her. She hates chaos and likes to make sure that everything is kept in order. She hates it when things don't go as planned or if she doesn't have a hand in a situation that directly involves her.
Faye appears to be be very strong, but in reality, she is a bundle of insecurity. She would never admit that she is a big softy that has a collection of plushies and likes reading sappy romance novels.
Background:
Faye was born and raised in northern France, living in a small rural village along the French coast. Her father, a Japanese business man, had met her mother when traveling and they fell in love--and you can guess the rest. After finishing his business in France, her father would have to return to Japan just before her mother could admit to being pregnant with his child. Despite being left to never know if he would ever return, she soon had their child, Faye, and was soon remarried to a nice man within their village and he helped to raise her as if she were his own.
Faye lived an average childhood, nothing out of the ordinary; she was very much in love with literature and storytelling. Having grown up just hours away from Omaha Beach, she would visit the site as often as she could to pretend to play out the stories that surrounded that fateful and bloody day. Her older step-brother, Hugo, would often retell the story of the war in such a way to make it seem as if it had happened in a fantasy world to make the history more interesting to her. She and Hugo would oftentimes be found running to and from the library or local bookstores with large bags of books filled with stories of knights, dragons, and princesses. She believed that her older brother was a noble knight, and wanted nothing more than to be his squire, so that she could become like him.
By the time she was seven, Hugo was graduating high school and planned to travel to Italy to continue his education. He told her that as soon as she was old enough, he would "make her his squire", and she was so excited that she promised that she would do her best to train so that he would be proud of her. Even though they made that promise, it would never come true, because Hugo would never return home. He was caught in the middle of a robbery and was murdered without any hesitation. The news devastated the young Faye, yet she vowed that she would one day become the knight that he would have wanted her to be...
Flash-forward a few years...
It wasn't until she was 13 or so when her birth father returned to the area in hopes of seeing what had become of his beloved French maiden. Faye was intrigued by the man, although she had no clue that she was his daughter, and when she stepped out to get a closer look at the stranger that spoke with a terrible accent, he saw her. The moment they locked eyes, they both seemed to know who the other was. Her mother explained to him what had happened and that she had hoped that Faye would never have to meet him until she was ready. Her father looked afraid for a few moments, before he explained that he would like to be able to take her back to Japan with him to make up for the lost time when she was old enough to decide for herself.
He stayed in the town for a few months and got to make up for some of the lost time with his daughter, who even though she did not view him as her father, but as a good friend that could possibly one day be something like a father figure. He taught her Japanese and told her of the wonderful schools that would open a million opportunities if she chose to go back to Japan with him. Knowing that it would break her mother's heart, she chose to go to Japan when she was done with her first year of high school and had learned more about her father's country and culture. Throughout her transition from France to Japan, she took many trips to Japan in hopes of bonding with her father despite his busy schedule.
She longed to spread her wings and live up to being the "knight" that Hugo would have wanted her to be.
Other things:
Faye knows fencing and is bilingual in both French and Japanese (though the latter is still shaky at times). She is a good cook, but is terrible at preparing Japanese dishes. She learned how to play piano at a young age due to her mother's constant desire to have a musically inclined child, though she is not comfortable playing in front of others.
Club:
Literature Club
Theme:
Anna Sun - WALK THE MOON</s>
<|message|>Oka Saori
"Fuuck..."
Saori sighed as she sat in the theater club room. This would be the last year of high school for her. Finally, it would end and she would be able to find a college. Honestly, she regretted enrolling in the school because she didn't have much time to be with her family since she didn't live with them anymore. If she did, she would've been able to spend so much more time for them. Whatever. It didn't matter anymore. The past is the past, and she made her decision long ago. Besides, she might be able to get into a high-prestige school abroad like Julliand or another school that offers classes in French or Japanese. That's something to look forward to at the end of the year. After she finishes school, she'll be able to go on the big stage, and that's the real benefit to all of this.
That's after the year ends, though. For now she'll have to deal with the last year, and any annoyances that come with it. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through it absentmindedly, keeling an eye on the door if anyone was to walk in.
"This is so boring!" She said to herself, as she had nothing to do. She had already unpacked, but she hasn't seen her roommate yet. There were better chances of more people coming to the club room early rather than waiting in her dorm just for one person. Even if she did, that would seem pretty weird, so there's no point in doing it unless she wanted to creep her roommate out.
She kept thinking to herself of what would happen after the year ends.</s>
<|message|>Reinhardt, Eris & Enyo "Eins".
Reinhardt ⚜ Twins
The day was beautiful and shining when the Reinhardt twins arrived Saint Lilium's gates, in a very nondescript taxi that they have boarded about an hour ago as they left their room at one the annex city's best hotels. The breeze carried the sweet scent of cherry blossoms inside the black sedan as one of the sisters lowered her window, prompting a sigh from the other, who went to lightly rub her temples, as if she wished to dispel a migraine.
The twins had arrived back on Nipponese lands yesterday, after spending half a day on board of an airliner in a Berlim - Tokyo flight and then a few hours by train and car until they finally reached their hotel with like fourteen hours left before current time. Needless to say, such a long, nearly non-stop, trip tends to take a toll on anyone's body and, at least one of the exquisite looking twins made that quite apparent.
"Argh... can't we go back to the hotel and come here tomorrow, Eins? I'm dead." Eris complained as she took their bags from the car's trunk while Eins paid the driver, leaving quite a large tip that was unusual for a Japanese. In fact, it was Eins' fault that Eris couldn't rest anything in the few hours that they had.
"How can you say something like this, Sis? You was the one who wanted to stay up until late. Either way, we will have plenty of time to rest later, is we don't rush we will lose the opening ceremony."
"Sigh..." Eris refused to go through the bother of recollecting what they did. Her head hurt too much for that, but the fact is that Eins was the only one to get any real sleep, leaving her sister like a grumpy, old bear. "Do they even do things like that here? I don't remember it from last year."
"Well, you know how the Japanese value pomp and circumstance. We should drop our things by our room and see where we should be headed to, now. I just hope they put us in the same class again. In truth, there should be a law against separating twins."
"Fine, let's just go, I think I'll go to the Nurse and get an aspirin, or tea, that should help it. Anyway, I think others will get annoyed if we stand in the way like that."
"Right, Sis. Is it my impression or this place is more packed than last ye-ouch!" As Eins and Eris began to walk, the older of them lost her attention momentarily as she gazed at the courtyard full of blooming flowers, both literal and figuratively, and kind of ran, face first, into another girl that had just got out of a black Japanese sedan and exchanged brief parting words with an older man, presumably her father, given the intimate tone of their behavior.
A fierce, redheaded beauty and, if any of the twins could place it, of heavy Frankish descent, though traces of oriental people could be seen on her face, especially the eyes, and silhouette. A half-Japanese, or haafu, as some of the locals so obnoxiously insisted to say.
As Eins struggled to recompose herself for a moment, Eris stepped in, to avoid any misunderstandings that might happen. "Please, accept our apologies. My sister and I arrived from Berlim less than a day ago and jet lag is still taking a toll on us. By the way, I'm Eris and this is my older sister, Enyo, but you can call her Eins. Even if the circumstances are a bit mixed up, it's a pleasure making your acquaintance on this first school day of the year, miss..." Eris made a brief pause to allow the other girl to introduce herself, in case she wanted to, of course, as she extended her hand in a very clearly Western greeting.
"By the way, I'm sorry for the bumping. If I broke anything, please, let me repay you in whatever way you think is best." Eins said, joining her sister in the greeting proposal.
---
Vixen</s>
<|message|>Yukimura Sayuri
Yukimura Sayuri
This is it! My transformation from boring schoolgirl to enigmatic and beautiful upperclassman has finally begun!
Sayuri could barely contain her excitement as she dragged her suitcase through the gates. She had been planning this the whole break. After two years of not standing out at all, she had to make her final year the one where she's admired by all. And of course her preparation couldn't be topped - she had been collecting manga that featured tall, dark haired beauties that all the younger students squealed over and sent love letters to. She had grown her hair out and gotten it cut into the quintessential hime cut. She had replaced her ankle socks with elegant tights. And she had mastered the polite and mature way of speaking. There's no way the other students will be able to resist me!
Of course, Sayuri had planned this first day to the letter as well. She would arrive first in the theater club and sit there looking all mysterious until some other students arrived. Then, she would gracefully introduce herself. "Fufu~ It truly is a pleasure to meet you, my dears," she mouthed to herself as she turned the corner and entered the clubroom.
"..."
There was already a girl in there. Oh well! A true senpai cannot be fazed by changes of plans!
"F-fufu~ How delightful it is to see your face, my dear," she managed. There was a silence. W-why did I say that? That sounded so stupid out-loud! Okay Sayuri...just keep playing it cool... Sayuri cleared her throat slightly, trying to suppress the redness of embarrassment across her face.</s>
<|message|>Hayashi Miako
"That's just life, isn't it? You win some, and you lose some," Asuka had replied with the usual irritation. Luckily my attempt had worked, Miako grinned.
"Truly, that does happen," Miako shrugged at the first comment with the thought in mind. "But in your case, the trade-off seems far from being even half fair, both parties included."
"Besides, she... just wasn't my type."
Miako bit her lip, her distaste for weak morals stressing. She sighed, grimacing at the thought of how the conversation would take a turn. But a small lecture wouldn't hurt... "A bit discourteous to the other person, is it not? If that was the case, you should have not chosen her."
"What an odd state to be in if you didn't even like the girl," She mumbled, knowing it's perceptibility.
Miako had looked off with a slight frustration, spotting a number of students already entering the campus. Clubs were calling and transfers were wondering about, might be nice to get there sooner or later... Eating the last bit of her bread, she jumped off from the high branch with her school carrier in her arms and rolled, reducing the pressure on her ankles.
Patting off dirt that got stuck on her clothes, Miako looked back at the upper classman, remembering what obligations should be given to elders."I won't be surprised if you don't take my offer in accompanying you to your dorm or walk to wherever you need to go as these areas don't provide you privacy- But! With my great grace, I ask."</s>
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<|message|>Faye Fleury
Faye Fluery
The Knight
Faye was about to continue on her way to the dorms (she'd been grateful that her father had brought her a map to study before she got here) when she felt someone run into her. One of her bags fell onto the ground, spilling out what one might think to be a billion books--all western sci-fi and fantasy books with titles in French. Pivoting around on one foot, graceful as a cat, she gazed upon a set of girls who could only be twins. She bent down and began to pick up her books as they apologized, but she continued making eye contact with them and gave them a warm smile.
"No, no, no! The fault is mine for standing here like a deaf fool." Her thick French accent made her Japanese sound choppy and rather clumsy. She pushed her red hair out of her eyes and saw that Eris reached her hand out as a greeting. She took the hand and gave it a gentle, yet curt shake. "It is an honor to meet both of you, Eris and Eins." She grabbed her book bag and stood up before bowing to each in turn, trying to fit in with the eastern form of greeting. "My name is Faye Fluery, and if my accent doesn't give it away, I am not native to Japan, so I apologize in advance if my speaking is not... good..."
She tried to appear confident despite her insecurity about how they would think of her when they had to listen to her speak. She brushed her skirt with one hand and the other immediately began trying to push her fiery hair behind an ear. "What kind of clubs are you fair maidens in, if I may intrude? I have yet to sign up for any, but the Literature Club is simply--err, I don't know how to phrase it--calling to me?"</s>
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<|description|>Reinhardt, Eris & Enyo "Eins".
Student Enrollment Sheet
Age:
16 years.
Year:
Second.
Appearance:
Eris and Eins are a identical twins, so naturally, they look pretty much indistinguishable from each other, especially because they don't make an effort to differentiate themselves. Both girls have about 1.65 meter height and an athletic figure. Both have platinum-white, or silvery, hair that goes past their waists, strawberry colored eyes and a fairly pale complexion. Both girls are finely built, like porcelain dolls, right out of the box.
Personality:
When it comes to general behavior, Eris and Eins are very different from one another. Eris approaches things in a more calculated way and has a tendency to draw people with her words and acts, while Eins is more brash and let her actions speak for themselves. Both have similar tastes, but Eris enjoys a more classic and elaborate style, while Eins prefers modern and dynamic looking things. For example, while both enjoy reading, Eris will go for printed volumes most of the time, while Eins would choose e-books. They had the time to learn many different hobbies, but Eris settled with fashion designing and fencing, while Eins loves computing and court sports like tennis and volleyball. Eris has shown interest in competitive shooting, but considers air soft a kids' game and will not want anything with it. Meanwhile, Eins loves to wear swimsuits, but is not a great fan of swimming, for God knows what reason.
Background:
The twins Eris and Enyo, much better known by her nickname "Eins", are the second born children of an affluent Austrian family who has been on the mercenary and private security business ever since the later Middle Age. Today the main source of income for the Reinhardt family are private military contracts and VIP bodyguard services, making them very rich and powerful worldwide known, for those who have need of, and can afford, their services.
Being the second born children, Eris' and Eins', upbringing was considerably less strick that that of their older sibling, yet it was ingrained on them from their early years that they have the image of their family to preserve. Misbehavior wasn't really an option for them, yet once in a while both sisters would indulge in "adventures" that would unavoidably end with them being reprimanded, before being sent off none worse for wear.
They studied at a Church headed boarding school on Germany, but transferred to a foreign school in order to broaden their horizons while they are still at a blooming age.
Other things:
- Both girls have self-defense training provided by their family's instructors. They know how to handle basic firearms and the fundamentals of efficient unarmed defense. Eris actually learned how to handle knives, but Eins skewed such an aggressive lesson.
- Eins knows how to ride motorcycles and actually is a fan of sportive ones. She actually owns racing bike manufactured by one of Germany's most famous automakers. For obvious reasons, she keeps it out of the school campus, in a rented garage. Eris on the other hand likes to enjoy the comfort and class of chauffer driven luxury sedans.
- Thanks to their upbringing in a multicultural environment, both sisters fluent not only in German (their birth language), but also French and accented spoken English though, they can read it well enough). They know a relatively decent amount of spoken Japanese; neither is that good with reading Kanji.
Club:
Both sisters are members of both the Theater Club, having been "conscripted" after the previous club president found the two of them playing a scene of Romeo and Juliet for fun, during one of their "adventures". Eins was the one playing Romeo and Eris Juliet. Even then, the two pass so much time around the Library that they are regarded as unofficial members of the Literature Club.</s>
<|message|>Kimura Chou
~Kimura Chou~
Saint Lilium's Academy for Young Women. I did it! Chou mentally cheered. She'd made it into this school, complete with its own Manga Club! Finally being able to surround herself with people that shared her aspirations was quite the relief, best demonstrated in her eagerness to get to the club room and meet the other club members, new and old alike. Map in hand and bag over her back, Chou navigated the halls of the school's buildings, first visiting her very own dorm room to drop off the small amount of luggage she'd brought along. I can unpack later. After the dorm, her next stop was the Manga Club's room.
She'd gotten lost a few times and had to ask for directions, but ultimately, Chou had arrived without incident. To see somebody else was already there, even! Whoever she was, she seemed to be pretty relaxed, arms behind her head and all. And her eyes were closed. Idea. How better to get to know somebody than by jumping right into it? It wasn't social interaction that Chou was jumping into, however. Oh no. Instead, the new student reached into her bag, her hand emerging with a large stuffed spider. She planned to jump right into "studying" this stranger in the clubroom. And so, Chou - after a bit of aiming - tossed the stuffed spider - about the size of a person's head - into the clubroom, landing the plush arachnid on a table just near the other student with a soft oomph.
She'd have to pay attention to what happened next.</s>
<|message|>Tanigawa Yatsumi
Tanigawa Yatsumi
As she lounged about, Yatsumi wondered how her year in Manga Club would pan out - of course, she did keep up with her studies; because after all, you can't produce without a degree. And who knows, maybe she'd be able to spend a year at college with her older brother, at least then someone would be able to show her the ropes. Unlike last year when she started at Saint Lilium's; she kept getting lost all her first week because none of her friends from middle school joined her, and of course she was too shy to start a conversation with anyone else. And there was the fact that she felt silly for not having picked it all up so quickly.
But this year, she was a second year, and could be someone's senpai. Surely she could be useful to someone this year, maybe she could help first year girls not make the same mistakes she did. Of course, there was the fact that speaking to new people was terrifying, even if it was a young filly-
oomph!
The sound of movement pulled Yatsumi out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes and glanced over to the desk next to her, where an abnormally large spider had decided to sit. Of course, Yatsumi screamed and jolted up. She figured that if she were in a comedy anime, she of course would have just jumped into the ceiling and gotten stuck - but this was real life: So she just fell off her chair, wildly flailing before she landed with a hard thud on the floor, tangled amongst the legs of the other tables and chairs.
"Ow..." she groaned as she sat up, rubbing her hand over now tangled mop of black hair on her head. She looked again at the spider, who hadn't even flinched, other than shifting slightly when her foot had kicked the table when she fell. Slowly getting up, Yatsumi closely inspected the spider - it was just a plush. When she picked it up, the legs just dangled over her hands, bouncing whenever she bobbed her hands. This definitely wasn't here before, but who threw it? She was the only one here, wasn't she?
Yatsumi wandered to the door way, spider in hands. She looked down the hall one way, nothing. But as soon as she turned around to look down the other way, she was greeted by the presence of a small, dark haired girl with red eyes. Yatsumi blinked, looked down to the spider, and back to the girl. "I assume this is yours, then?" she asked with a pout, lifting the spider and plopping it onto the girl's head. Frankly, it just made her look even more adorable than she already did, though probably just because she had a stuffed toy on her head, dangling all eight of it's legs about her skull and face.</s>
<|message|>Faye Fleury
Faye Fluery
The Knight
Faye stepped from her father's shiny black car, one of the newer Japanese models (though she couldn't name it to save her life), and grabbed her bags in both arms. Her father stepped from the car and walked over to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She nearly flinched away from the touch, but she was doing her best to try allowing him into her life; it would just take a while.
"I'm so proud of you, mon amie." He said, his pronunciation as awful as ever, but she appreciated him for trying to speak some words in her native tongue. "It makes me so happy to have you in my life and to come all the way here to spend your high school years with me."
"Thank you, father." She said in her calm and almost siren-esque voice that was like honey to foreign ears. "I can't wait to spend the breaks with you... though I don't know how well I'll... uh... transition into Japanese schooling."
He gave her a comforting smile and patted her shoulder. "You're a very bright young woman, Faye. You'll most likely struggle with speaking, but your reading and writing of Japanese is nearly impeccable. I've heard that this school is filled with many talented and bright young women that would be more than happy to welcome you into our culture."
Faye looked towards the shining pinnacle of hope that was the academy. "Thank you, F-Father..." With that, he kissed her on the forehead and they said their goodbyes--simple, yet heartfelt. She couldn't believe that after all these years, she'd finally met her flesh-and-blood father, yet he still had a long ways to go until she could call him "father" comfortably.
The young French woman then grabbed her bags and headed through the gates, gazing around at the blossoms falling around her as if she were in one of the fairy tales that Hugo had once read to her as a child. Her heart throbbed, but it didn't linger as long as it once had. Don't worry, Hugo... I'll still become the knight that you longed for me to become. It's been a few years, but a true knight never forgets the vows they have taken.</s>
<|message|>Oka Saori
"Fuuck..."
Saori sighed as she sat in the theater club room. This would be the last year of high school for her. Finally, it would end and she would be able to find a college. Honestly, she regretted enrolling in the school because she didn't have much time to be with her family since she didn't live with them anymore. If she did, she would've been able to spend so much more time for them. Whatever. It didn't matter anymore. The past is the past, and she made her decision long ago. Besides, she might be able to get into a high-prestige school abroad like Julliand or another school that offers classes in French or Japanese. That's something to look forward to at the end of the year. After she finishes school, she'll be able to go on the big stage, and that's the real benefit to all of this.
That's after the year ends, though. For now she'll have to deal with the last year, and any annoyances that come with it. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through it absentmindedly, keeling an eye on the door if anyone was to walk in.
"This is so boring!" She said to herself, as she had nothing to do. She had already unpacked, but she hasn't seen her roommate yet. There were better chances of more people coming to the club room early rather than waiting in her dorm just for one person. Even if she did, that would seem pretty weird, so there's no point in doing it unless she wanted to creep her roommate out.
She kept thinking to herself of what would happen after the year ends.</s>
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<|message|>Reinhardt, Eris & Enyo "Eins".
Reinhardt ⚜ Twins
The day was beautiful and shining when the Reinhardt twins arrived Saint Lilium's gates, in a very nondescript taxi that they have boarded about an hour ago as they left their room at one the annex city's best hotels. The breeze carried the sweet scent of cherry blossoms inside the black sedan as one of the sisters lowered her window, prompting a sigh from the other, who went to lightly rub her temples, as if she wished to dispel a migraine.
The twins had arrived back on Nipponese lands yesterday, after spending half a day on board of an airliner in a Berlim - Tokyo flight and then a few hours by train and car until they finally reached their hotel with like fourteen hours left before current time. Needless to say, such a long, nearly non-stop, trip tends to take a toll on anyone's body and, at least one of the exquisite looking twins made that quite apparent.
"Argh... can't we go back to the hotel and come here tomorrow, Eins? I'm dead." Eris complained as she took their bags from the car's trunk while Eins paid the driver, leaving quite a large tip that was unusual for a Japanese. In fact, it was Eins' fault that Eris couldn't rest anything in the few hours that they had.
"How can you say something like this, Sis? You was the one who wanted to stay up until late. Either way, we will have plenty of time to rest later, is we don't rush we will lose the opening ceremony."
"Sigh..." Eris refused to go through the bother of recollecting what they did. Her head hurt too much for that, but the fact is that Eins was the only one to get any real sleep, leaving her sister like a grumpy, old bear. "Do they even do things like that here? I don't remember it from last year."
"Well, you know how the Japanese value pomp and circumstance. We should drop our things by our room and see where we should be headed to, now. I just hope they put us in the same class again. In truth, there should be a law against separating twins."
"Fine, let's just go, I think I'll go to the Nurse and get an aspirin, or tea, that should help it. Anyway, I think others will get annoyed if we stand in the way like that."
"Right, Sis. Is it my impression or this place is more packed than last ye-ouch!" As Eins and Eris began to walk, the older of them lost her attention momentarily as she gazed at the courtyard full of blooming flowers, both literal and figuratively, and kind of ran, face first, into another girl that had just got out of a black Japanese sedan and exchanged brief parting words with an older man, presumably her father, given the intimate tone of their behavior.
A fierce, redheaded beauty and, if any of the twins could place it, of heavy Frankish descent, though traces of oriental people could be seen on her face, especially the eyes, and silhouette. A half-Japanese, or haafu, as some of the locals so obnoxiously insisted to say.
As Eins struggled to recompose herself for a moment, Eris stepped in, to avoid any misunderstandings that might happen. "Please, accept our apologies. My sister and I arrived from Berlim less than a day ago and jet lag is still taking a toll on us. By the way, I'm Eris and this is my older sister, Enyo, but you can call her Eins. Even if the circumstances are a bit mixed up, it's a pleasure making your acquaintance on this first school day of the year, miss..." Eris made a brief pause to allow the other girl to introduce herself, in case she wanted to, of course, as she extended her hand in a very clearly Western greeting.
"By the way, I'm sorry for the bumping. If I broke anything, please, let me repay you in whatever way you think is best." Eins said, joining her sister in the greeting proposal.
---
Vixen</s>
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<|description|>Yukimura Sayuri
"Fufu~ Let your beloved onee-sama show you how it's done!"
Age: 17
Year: Third
Personality: Sayuri's goal is to be the perfect and cool upperclassman that she always adored in her younger years. She takes notes from manga, and very often comes across as cliché. She likes to behave in a confident and composed manner. However, she often can't hide facets of her true personality, which is easily embarrassed, eager, and impulsive. She loves to seem impressive to everyone, yet is childishly impressed by other people as well.
Background: Growing up, Sayuri was a shy and mousy girl that spent most of her days indoors reading manga. When she went to attend Saint Lilium's, she was amazed at how sophisticated and stylish the upperclassmen were. Before she went into her third and final year, Sayuri decided that she wanted to become one of them. So she gave herself a total makeover and taught herself tricks that she learned from manga.
Despite not being all that good at academics or sports, she put a lot of effort into her schoolwork, believing that a true upperclassman was intelligent and athletic. While her antics often get quite cliché – sometimes to the point where she embarrasses herself by her own words and actions – she genuinely enjoys being a student at the school and loves to help out others.
Club: Theater club
Theme: Koigokoro Masquerade
"Hey, don't laugh!"</s>
<|message|>Kimura Chou
~Kimura Chou~
Saint Lilium's Academy for Young Women. I did it! Chou mentally cheered. She'd made it into this school, complete with its own Manga Club! Finally being able to surround herself with people that shared her aspirations was quite the relief, best demonstrated in her eagerness to get to the club room and meet the other club members, new and old alike. Map in hand and bag over her back, Chou navigated the halls of the school's buildings, first visiting her very own dorm room to drop off the small amount of luggage she'd brought along. I can unpack later. After the dorm, her next stop was the Manga Club's room.
She'd gotten lost a few times and had to ask for directions, but ultimately, Chou had arrived without incident. To see somebody else was already there, even! Whoever she was, she seemed to be pretty relaxed, arms behind her head and all. And her eyes were closed. Idea. How better to get to know somebody than by jumping right into it? It wasn't social interaction that Chou was jumping into, however. Oh no. Instead, the new student reached into her bag, her hand emerging with a large stuffed spider. She planned to jump right into "studying" this stranger in the clubroom. And so, Chou - after a bit of aiming - tossed the stuffed spider - about the size of a person's head - into the clubroom, landing the plush arachnid on a table just near the other student with a soft oomph.
She'd have to pay attention to what happened next.</s>
<|message|>Tanigawa Yatsumi
Tanigawa Yatsumi
As she lounged about, Yatsumi wondered how her year in Manga Club would pan out - of course, she did keep up with her studies; because after all, you can't produce without a degree. And who knows, maybe she'd be able to spend a year at college with her older brother, at least then someone would be able to show her the ropes. Unlike last year when she started at Saint Lilium's; she kept getting lost all her first week because none of her friends from middle school joined her, and of course she was too shy to start a conversation with anyone else. And there was the fact that she felt silly for not having picked it all up so quickly.
But this year, she was a second year, and could be someone's senpai. Surely she could be useful to someone this year, maybe she could help first year girls not make the same mistakes she did. Of course, there was the fact that speaking to new people was terrifying, even if it was a young filly-
oomph!
The sound of movement pulled Yatsumi out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes and glanced over to the desk next to her, where an abnormally large spider had decided to sit. Of course, Yatsumi screamed and jolted up. She figured that if she were in a comedy anime, she of course would have just jumped into the ceiling and gotten stuck - but this was real life: So she just fell off her chair, wildly flailing before she landed with a hard thud on the floor, tangled amongst the legs of the other tables and chairs.
"Ow..." she groaned as she sat up, rubbing her hand over now tangled mop of black hair on her head. She looked again at the spider, who hadn't even flinched, other than shifting slightly when her foot had kicked the table when she fell. Slowly getting up, Yatsumi closely inspected the spider - it was just a plush. When she picked it up, the legs just dangled over her hands, bouncing whenever she bobbed her hands. This definitely wasn't here before, but who threw it? She was the only one here, wasn't she?
Yatsumi wandered to the door way, spider in hands. She looked down the hall one way, nothing. But as soon as she turned around to look down the other way, she was greeted by the presence of a small, dark haired girl with red eyes. Yatsumi blinked, looked down to the spider, and back to the girl. "I assume this is yours, then?" she asked with a pout, lifting the spider and plopping it onto the girl's head. Frankly, it just made her look even more adorable than she already did, though probably just because she had a stuffed toy on her head, dangling all eight of it's legs about her skull and face.</s>
<|message|>Faye Fleury
Faye Fluery
The Knight
Faye stepped from her father's shiny black car, one of the newer Japanese models (though she couldn't name it to save her life), and grabbed her bags in both arms. Her father stepped from the car and walked over to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. She nearly flinched away from the touch, but she was doing her best to try allowing him into her life; it would just take a while.
"I'm so proud of you, mon amie." He said, his pronunciation as awful as ever, but she appreciated him for trying to speak some words in her native tongue. "It makes me so happy to have you in my life and to come all the way here to spend your high school years with me."
"Thank you, father." She said in her calm and almost siren-esque voice that was like honey to foreign ears. "I can't wait to spend the breaks with you... though I don't know how well I'll... uh... transition into Japanese schooling."
He gave her a comforting smile and patted her shoulder. "You're a very bright young woman, Faye. You'll most likely struggle with speaking, but your reading and writing of Japanese is nearly impeccable. I've heard that this school is filled with many talented and bright young women that would be more than happy to welcome you into our culture."
Faye looked towards the shining pinnacle of hope that was the academy. "Thank you, F-Father..." With that, he kissed her on the forehead and they said their goodbyes--simple, yet heartfelt. She couldn't believe that after all these years, she'd finally met her flesh-and-blood father, yet he still had a long ways to go until she could call him "father" comfortably.
The young French woman then grabbed her bags and headed through the gates, gazing around at the blossoms falling around her as if she were in one of the fairy tales that Hugo had once read to her as a child. Her heart throbbed, but it didn't linger as long as it once had. Don't worry, Hugo... I'll still become the knight that you longed for me to become. It's been a few years, but a true knight never forgets the vows they have taken.</s>
<|message|>Oka Saori
"Fuuck..."
Saori sighed as she sat in the theater club room. This would be the last year of high school for her. Finally, it would end and she would be able to find a college. Honestly, she regretted enrolling in the school because she didn't have much time to be with her family since she didn't live with them anymore. If she did, she would've been able to spend so much more time for them. Whatever. It didn't matter anymore. The past is the past, and she made her decision long ago. Besides, she might be able to get into a high-prestige school abroad like Julliand or another school that offers classes in French or Japanese. That's something to look forward to at the end of the year. After she finishes school, she'll be able to go on the big stage, and that's the real benefit to all of this.
That's after the year ends, though. For now she'll have to deal with the last year, and any annoyances that come with it. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through it absentmindedly, keeling an eye on the door if anyone was to walk in.
"This is so boring!" She said to herself, as she had nothing to do. She had already unpacked, but she hasn't seen her roommate yet. There were better chances of more people coming to the club room early rather than waiting in her dorm just for one person. Even if she did, that would seem pretty weird, so there's no point in doing it unless she wanted to creep her roommate out.
She kept thinking to herself of what would happen after the year ends.</s>
<|message|>Reinhardt, Eris & Enyo "Eins".
Reinhardt ⚜ Twins
The day was beautiful and shining when the Reinhardt twins arrived Saint Lilium's gates, in a very nondescript taxi that they have boarded about an hour ago as they left their room at one the annex city's best hotels. The breeze carried the sweet scent of cherry blossoms inside the black sedan as one of the sisters lowered her window, prompting a sigh from the other, who went to lightly rub her temples, as if she wished to dispel a migraine.
The twins had arrived back on Nipponese lands yesterday, after spending half a day on board of an airliner in a Berlim - Tokyo flight and then a few hours by train and car until they finally reached their hotel with like fourteen hours left before current time. Needless to say, such a long, nearly non-stop, trip tends to take a toll on anyone's body and, at least one of the exquisite looking twins made that quite apparent.
"Argh... can't we go back to the hotel and come here tomorrow, Eins? I'm dead." Eris complained as she took their bags from the car's trunk while Eins paid the driver, leaving quite a large tip that was unusual for a Japanese. In fact, it was Eins' fault that Eris couldn't rest anything in the few hours that they had.
"How can you say something like this, Sis? You was the one who wanted to stay up until late. Either way, we will have plenty of time to rest later, is we don't rush we will lose the opening ceremony."
"Sigh..." Eris refused to go through the bother of recollecting what they did. Her head hurt too much for that, but the fact is that Eins was the only one to get any real sleep, leaving her sister like a grumpy, old bear. "Do they even do things like that here? I don't remember it from last year."
"Well, you know how the Japanese value pomp and circumstance. We should drop our things by our room and see where we should be headed to, now. I just hope they put us in the same class again. In truth, there should be a law against separating twins."
"Fine, let's just go, I think I'll go to the Nurse and get an aspirin, or tea, that should help it. Anyway, I think others will get annoyed if we stand in the way like that."
"Right, Sis. Is it my impression or this place is more packed than last ye-ouch!" As Eins and Eris began to walk, the older of them lost her attention momentarily as she gazed at the courtyard full of blooming flowers, both literal and figuratively, and kind of ran, face first, into another girl that had just got out of a black Japanese sedan and exchanged brief parting words with an older man, presumably her father, given the intimate tone of their behavior.
A fierce, redheaded beauty and, if any of the twins could place it, of heavy Frankish descent, though traces of oriental people could be seen on her face, especially the eyes, and silhouette. A half-Japanese, or haafu, as some of the locals so obnoxiously insisted to say.
As Eins struggled to recompose herself for a moment, Eris stepped in, to avoid any misunderstandings that might happen. "Please, accept our apologies. My sister and I arrived from Berlim less than a day ago and jet lag is still taking a toll on us. By the way, I'm Eris and this is my older sister, Enyo, but you can call her Eins. Even if the circumstances are a bit mixed up, it's a pleasure making your acquaintance on this first school day of the year, miss..." Eris made a brief pause to allow the other girl to introduce herself, in case she wanted to, of course, as she extended her hand in a very clearly Western greeting.
"By the way, I'm sorry for the bumping. If I broke anything, please, let me repay you in whatever way you think is best." Eins said, joining her sister in the greeting proposal.
---
Vixen</s>
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<|message|>Yukimura Sayuri
This is it! My transformation from boring schoolgirl to enigmatic and beautiful upperclassman has finally begun!
Sayuri could barely contain her excitement as she dragged her suitcase through the gates. She had been planning this the whole break. After two years of not standing out at all, she had to make her final year the one where she's admired by all. And of course her preparation couldn't be topped - she had been collecting manga that featured tall, dark haired beauties that all the younger students squealed over and sent love letters to. She had grown her hair out and gotten it cut into the quintessential hime cut. She had replaced her ankle socks with elegant tights. And she had mastered the polite and mature way of speaking. There's no way the other students will be able to resist me!
Of course, Sayuri had planned this first day to the letter as well. She would arrive first in the theater club and sit there looking all mysterious until some other students arrived. Then, she would gracefully introduce herself. "Fufu~ It truly is a pleasure to meet you, my dears," she mouthed to herself as she turned the corner and entered the clubroom.
"..."
There was already a girl in there. Oh well! A true senpai cannot be fazed by changes of plans!
"F-fufu~ How delightful it is to see your face, my dear," she managed. There was a silence. W-why did I say that? That sounded so stupid out-loud! Okay Sayuri...just keep playing it cool... Sayuri cleared her throat slightly, trying to suppress the redness of embarrassment across her face.</s>
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<|description|>Callie Lenson
Age:
25
Height:
5"10
Weight:
108 pounds
Personality:
Callie always has an immediately impact on her surrounds. She is cheerful, laughs a lot and entertains with a blunt and earthy humer. She enjoys being the center of attention, however she is incrediably compassionate to her friends. She generally keeps her conversations energetic, showing a good dose of intelligence, enjoying both talking about something and then just going out and doing it. She often leaps before she looks, fixing up any mistakes she comes across as she goes along, rather then merely sitting idly, preparing continugencies and escape closes as she goes along.
Callie tends to make a habit out of risky behaviour, living in the moment and then diving into action. The best way to describe her would be the eye of a storm. She enjoys drama, is full of passion and pleasure, not for emotional thrills but to stimulate her mind, to rapid-fire rational decisions when required.
She thinks it makes more sense to follow her own moral compass, then what is considered normal. Rules were made to be broken, ofter all.
She has a unique skill in noticing small changes, whether it is a shift in facial expression, a new clothing style or a broken habit, she tends to pick up on hidden thoughts and motives were annyone else would be lucky to pick up anything specific at all. This leads to a series of questions to try and figure out why.
History:
Callie was born to parents who were themselves witches. She was raised in the life, but at their untilmely death, Callie found herself lost, confused and a little wild. She ended up homeless, and has since wandered the streets, earning what money she can, and trying to get her life back together.
Species:
Witch: A person who can cast spells and make magical potions. Normally witches are part of a coven and are ruled over by a head witch or a regent. The more witches that are involved in casting a spell the more powerful it will be.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie shifted slightly, not sure she liked having Claudia on her side. She wasn't too sure what she thought of Claudia- it was clear she was outspoken and very opinionated, but... she wasn't at all like Caius. Caius was warm... caring... and perhaps the best thing to have happened to her. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't." she said softly, watching Claudia warily.
As Caius began to lead her back inside, she said to him "it isn't her opinion I'm worried about. It's yours. And you don't want me to do it... I just... I don't want you to be worried about me. If I were to transform... you wouldn't have to worry... " she said low enough for him to hear before falling silent as they stepped back into the cabin. @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
All occupants if the dining table were lost in their own thoughts, making the meal a silent one. Claudia thought about how to deal with the pesky magic users, Caius chewed on the idea of having Callie turn herself into one of them while Darric watched them all. A few minutes passed by before the pack leader decided to break the silence. He cleared his throat. "I can see the wheels in your heads turning. Let me hear it then, he said, looking pointedly at Caius.
Caius lifted his head, blue eyes looking straight into Darric's gray ones. "Callie is thinking of turning herself into one of us... magically," he stated straightforwardly. "Claudia thinks it's a good idea," he added.
Mmhmm... Claudia agreed in between chewing, not bothering to say anything else.
Darric's gaze was still on Caius. But he didn't need to voice out the next question. "I'm honestly worried. Callie has strong magic but I don't exactly know how magic is with wolf physiology and psychology. But I'd trust her if she thinks she can do it," Caius answered the pack leader's unspoken question.
Darric gave Caius a small nod before turning his attention to the witch. "Well...?"</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie silently went inside with Caius, wishing that she hadn't said anything to him. She shouldn't have said anything at all... She was making things harder for him, and she shouldn't be. Looking down at her food, not particularly eating any of it, she sighed to herself. Looking up as Darric spoke, Callie swallowed and dropped her hands into her lap.
"Look, it isn't something that I can truly explain. There's a magic, mixing lay-line and earth, that enables witches who are particularly skilled in that area to transform into creatures. Doing so like that... well, it allows us to retain ourselves." she said softly, "It will enable me to not be a burden... but... but it doesn't stop the bigger problem. I'm a witch without a coven that can do some serious damage to whatever the coven has planned. They aren't going to stop until I'm no longer a problem."
She fell silent, and looked away from them all, sighing heavily once more. She was just bringing trouble... she didn't know what to do, anymore.</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
"I say let her do it. I mean, yeah, she did bring this whole shit down on us but it's not actually her fault those bitches are whack jobs. And she said it herself, she doesn't wanna be a witch anymore..." Claudia paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "I'd probably like her better if she did turn herself into one of us. And imagine. A wolf with magical powers. That means serious firepower," she grinned.
"This is the first time we'll be dealing with an unnatural wolf," Darric pointed out.
"Seriously. She's been yapping about how she knows her stuff. If I were her and I'm not sure what I'm doing, I wouldn't even suggest it," Claudia argued.
"Yeah, you would," Caius interjected dryly.
"Well, good thing she's not me then," Claudia laughed. "Anyway, I said my part. In the end, it all boils down to what you think, Cai."
Darric nodded.
"No, it all depends on what Callie wants to do," Caius said, looking at Callie. "If you want to do it then you'll have my support."
"Besides, if she goes rogue, we have the two halves of Fenrir here to control her, don't we?"</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
They didn't understand, but how could they? They didn't have much to do with magic, until now. How could she explain so that they would understand? "I think you misunderstand me- it wouldn't make me a werewolf, merely enable me to use my magic to shapeshift into a wolf for a time. I would still be a witch, but... if I could develop a spell I could hide my magical ability from others... " she sighed, and ran a hand through her hair with frustration as she sought the right words.
"It's an option and if it means I won't be a burden, well... I'd like to take it, but... it wouldn't be permanent. I don't have that kind of magic... that's old magic, lost magic. No, for it to be permanent it would need to be a bite." But she was not going to go there. "Does that make sense?"</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
But it was exactly where Claudia was going. As soon as the words were out of Callie's mouth, she looked pointedly at her brother.
"No. I know that look Claudia," Caius said.
Claudia laughed. "But you haven't even looked at me, Cai," she complained. "But seriously. THAT is the fastest and easiest way to make her one of us..." When Caius didn't respond, she shrugged and the expression on her face became serious. She looked at Darric. "Anyway, plans, right? We have to make sure those wretched shits don't get a shot like that at Caius again. I'm ready and willing to tear out their throats with your pack anytime, anywhere." She looked at Caius next. "Don't be stupid and getting in the way of spells like that again. God or not, you might not be as lucky next time. Especially since the humans we're up against aren't idiots. They would bring more firepower knowing that you somehow survived a spell that was supposed to kill you." She looked at Callie last. "You. I suggest you decide what you wanna do, turn yourself into one of us or not. It's up to you. Caius won't be making that decision for you. Either way, you're in this as much as we are. I'm not the most pleasant person to deal with but when it comes down to it, I'll make sure to protect you for my brother's sake."
And then it was Caius' turn to speak. He looked at Callie for a second before addressing their group, his voice as serious as Claudia's. "We'll need all the wolves for this. We'll have the young ones sit this one out. They're too impulsive, we would have to keep an eye on them and we need to focus on this fight." He turned to Callie again and spoke in a softer tone of voice. "Claudia is right, you'll have to decide what you wanna do. But meanwhile, we need information on how many witches are there and what kind of spells they'd throw at us."</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie clasped her hands in front of her, gripping them tightly as she listened to what was being said. Her own thoughts were a turmoil, and it was all she could do to not simply break down once more. She had to be strong. She couldn't be creating any more troubles for Caius and his pack, his family. She was the reason for all this...
If she had turned away, before he could have laid eyes on her, would this have ever happened? She had only seen that flash of what could be, that flash of the future... and while it had seemed perfect, if this was the result... if she was going to cause Caius pain... She might not understand Imprinting to it's fullest extent, but she had never felt like this about anyone. If she could make things easier for him, she would.
She met his gaze as he spoke to her, and hoped that her eyes didn't reveal just how close she was to crying. "We're better together... Apart, I'll be worrying about you, and you me. If using this spell is the only way to do it, so that you won't worry about me, than I will. All I know is I won't sit and wait to see if you'll come back to me." It was her choice... but to her, it was also his. It might not be permanent, but it was... intimate sort of thing. If she did it right, she'd share the pack's experience's as if she were truly one of them.
"As for the witches... well, traditionally a coven is anywhere from three witches on wards. There was 13 in my coven, beside's myself. But Angelina could very well have recruited other coven's by now, other witches. The type of spells, well, each witch has different strengths, but mostly spells are based around the elements. There are trapping, curses, jinx's.... it really just depends. I can give a demonstration of some spells I think they would use, and I can put protective charms around the pack." @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius reached out and grasped Callie's hand. As she was speaking, he squeezed her hand in assurance. After she was finished speaking, he leaned towards her and whispered into her ear. "We'll be okay as long as we're together. And we are now. So you can put your mind at rest." He sat back on his chair. "Let's make plans then." he started, his voice taking on a leader like tone. "We should have Callie demonstrate to us the spells we might be facing. Have all the wolves watch her moves, watch how she delivers the spell, observe every single movement she does. It could give us a clue of our opponents' movements."
Darric nodded in agreement. "Yes, I agree. I shall call every single wolf, including the young ones. Although they will not be fighting with us, we should all be ready. No exceptions."
Claudia nodded in agreement as well, her face serious just like the two other wolves in the room. "We should get to it as soon as we can. I doubt those witches would give us a lot of time to prepare. Hell, they might even attack tomorrow." She turned towards Callie. "Can you put up a protective spell around this area? Just something that would alert us if they come this way," she asked politely.
Caius wasn't finished. He turned towards Callie, a serious look on his face. "I need you to do something for me. I need you to hit me with all the spells that you know." He continued before she could even say anything. "I need to know how to evade and how to deal with it if I get hit."</s>
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<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie nodded, although she couldn't help but worry still. She bowed her head, before nodding once more. Demonstrating spells was something that she could do, but she did have one issue. "I... I don't know if I can do that, Caius. I'm not.... I don't want to hurt you." Even if he was resistance, the thought of hurting him just about broke her heart. "I'll try... " She said softly, not wanting to disappoint her.
She hesitated another moment before she took in a deep breath and spoke to the others. "I think its a mistake to not include the pups in the fighting. You'll leave them vulnerable to attack should the witches.... and its not just the witches, not anymore. It's the young vampire-witch hybrids. It's just my opinion, but I think it will be a mistake to leave them vulnerable and if you leave guards for them that will only weaken the pack. I... its just my opinion though."
Hurrying on, she turned to Claudia. "Yes, I can. I can put up a strong one, where ay supernatural creature will need my permission- or those of my family- whether blood or bonded- to cross. Or I can set up a weak one which will just alert me to their pressence."</s>
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<|description|>Caius Aluredes
Age:
24
Height:
6'2
Weight:
190 lbs.
Species:
Werewolf
Personality:
While werewolves are known to be quick to anger, Caius is remarkably calm and patient both in wolf and in human form. He does, however, exhibit a very explosive anger when provoked. And when angered, he is quick, decisive and extremely brutal. He is very protective of his twin sister, Claudia, and would go to all lengths to protect her.
While vampires are a natural enemy, he sees this rule with a grain of salt. As long as they do not harm him and those he consider as friend or family, then he leaves them alone. However, in wolf form, his rational and considerate way of looking at vampires becomes a little harder to uphold.
History:
Orphaned at a young age, he and his twin sister were adopted by a human family. As a child, he was silent and thoughtful and often said things that were wise for his age. A close friend of the family once remarked that Caius had a very old soul when she looked deep into his eyes. Thinking it to be just the ramblings of an old lady, he pushed it out of his mind.
His first transformation happened on the full moon of his 13th birthday. Somehow sensing it before it happened, he had taken his sister deep into the forest where both of them underwent their painful transformation from human to wolf. Not being able to control his feral instincts and blinded by pain, he attacked Claudia until he heard her thoughts in his head. It had been an odd experience to be able to hear each other's thoughts but it was something he thought convenient. At first, he struggled to control the raw power ushered in by the light of the full moon but learned to control it in a matter of hours.
As the moon receded into the horizon, the twins transformed back into their human forms. But because of the fear of putting their adoptive family in danger, both decided it best to leave and seek out those similar to them, if they existed. But Claudia, bothered by the anger she always felt and fearing that she might hurt her twin, decided to go off on her own. Caius didn't try to hold her back but promised that he'll find her again someday.
He eventually found Crimson Keeper, a pack of 10 wolves tasked to keep a watchful eye on the vampires and making sure that they do not pose a threat to both werewolves and humans. Strangely enough, the pack welcomed them with reverence, something that Caius still wonders about until the present. He had time and again asked Darric, the pack leader, about it but he always replied that things will reveal themselves at the right opportune moment.</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
A few minutes more and Caius was walking out of the bathroom, barefoot and wearing a plain white shirt and black jogging pants. His cheeks were pink from the hot shower and his hair was still wet and tousled. "I just realized that you didn't bring along any clothes or anything at all with you. Uh, we could go grab some stuff from your house? Or maybe just buy it if you don't wanna go back," he suggested, his initial awkwardness towards her gone. "We can also grab something for dinner on the way," he gestured towards the kitchen and the refrigerator. "I haven't really stocked up on food yet."</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie looked up as he came out, and for a moment it was like she'd been punched in the gut, her breath taken away. oh, jeez. She bit her lip nervously, seeming to have msised what he has said. "Ah. I don't have any money to buy anything..." But she didn't really want to run into any of the coven at the house...
Rising, she swallowed, and for a moment, perhaps a dangerous moment, Callie nearly stalked over to him, to kiss him again. Merely the thought of it sent her heart racing. "Um...I...I...kinda want to kiss you again" She wasn't sure if that was her mouth just blurting out the words, or something else.
Blushing deeply-astronaughts could probably see her glowing face-she let her hair frame her face, hiding it. @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius shook his head and smiled, completely unaware of the effect he had on her. "Don't worry about money. I'll buy you stuff. Think of it as a gift for starting a new life. Or if that doesn't work, maybe just a loan until you're able to finance stuff for yourself." He walked over to the small kitchen to grab a glass of water. His hand stopped midway when he heard her speak again.
He looked at her and blinked. Did I hear that right? He was convinced that he had just imagined it when he saw the deep blush that she was desperately hiding beneath her hair. Completely abandoning the thought of having that drink of water, he strode towards her. "I can take care of that," he said before he leaned down and pressed his lips gently on hers.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
It was oddly satisfying to see him...shocked. Callie watched from the curtain of her hair as he strode towards her, seeming to take all decision from her as he kissed her, once more feeling that spark, jolting through her body, seeming to spark every nerve ending, warming her body. She felt her heart race, and she responded more than a little enthausastically, returning the kiss deeply, she moved in against him, merely, for the moment, letting her body do what it wanted.
She wrapped her arms around him, effectively trying to have as little gap between them as possible, sure every part of her was heating up, and for a moment, she didn't know if she could stop, but then wondering if it mattered.
She was well aware of the dangers of being in anyway shape or form associated with Vampires or Werewolves-there was always that chance you'd get bitten, But right then, she didn't care. @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
The way Callie responded to his kisses told Caius that she wanted him more than she let on. When she wrapped her arms around him, he did the same, effectively pressing their bodies together. As the heat built up in Caius, he fought to hold himself back, trying not to let lust cloud his mind. He didn't wanna hurt her much less make her do something that she'll regret later on.
But it was so difficult and her movements against him was only making it more so. Out of breath, he pulled away, the strain of controlling himself evident on his face. "Callie... If we don't stop, I might end up... Do you want to?" he asked.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie wasn't too sure what he meant, at least for a moemnt. End up doing what? It? She tried to figure it out, by looking at him, brushing back her hair, and frowning slightly. He could lose control? But...surely not, she didn't doubt that he'd had other partners before, and given that there wasn't a stream of female wolves about, it was logical to assume he hadn't bit them...
Callie wasn't even sure what she wanted.
She didn't want to cause him pain, something that was evident by his effort to control himself. She glanced away, and said softly, "I...I just know that...I want you" It didn't seem much of an answer, but right then it was all the truth Callie had. @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius was trying to calm himself down but his heart was beating so loudly in his chest. Callie looked hesitant and it was all the answer he really needed. The relationship he had with her was, after all, too undetermined to actually cross the line he was teetering on. But before he could release her and move away from her, her soft voice gave him a completely different answer.
He groaned and claimed her mouth with his again, this time his kisses were rough, proof of how much he had been holding back. His hands began moving up and down her back. After a few more minutes, he pulled back. "Callie... are you sure about this? Do you want me to make love to you?" he asked in a hoarse voice.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Like she could say anything else but yes now, when her whole body seemed to be screaming for it, but Caius's restraint, made her rein herself in, and she looked up at him. "If you're worried, we can wait" She said softly, still wondering for a time what was coming over her, She swallowed, not afraid, but...more nervous then she'd ever been.
"But I'm sure. I can wear a charm, if you wish. It offers some protection against physical attack" She didn't know if a bite during love would count, but she wanted to try and ease his mind. "or we can wait"@Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
A slow smile spread across Caius' face. "I'm not gonna bite you, if that's what you think I was getting at. I was just making sure that you want this." He began trailing kisses on her jaw and down her neck. "If you want me, I want you more," he whispered against her skin. It didn't take long for their clothes to start falling on the floor.
He was gentle with her, taking the lead most times but always after seeking some sort of consent. He wanted her desperately but he held back in the fear of hurting her.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie didn't think she'd every experienced anything quite so...amazing, and doubted she would again. Almost purring like a contented cat, Callie gave a happy sigh. Her day had started off as being practically homeless. Who would have thought she'd be here?
After a little while, she said softly "that was certainly something" she smiled, "dinner sounds real nice right now" she gave a small laugh, feeling almost giddy. And definitely safe. Like she knew now full well that nothing would hurt her as long as Caius was around.</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius looked at Callie with wonder evident in his eyes. How had he survived all these years without her? Being with her like this and holding her in his arms... with her cheeks flushed from their lovemaking... It felt like he had been missing something all his life and she had been that last puzzle piece to complete him. For a moment, he hoped with all that he was that she'll eventually look at him the same way he looked at her. But even if she didn't, he knew he'd be content just being in her presence and making sure she was safe and happy.
He gave her a gentle smile. "Dinner would be nice. What do you feel like eating?"</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
A little bit...nervous? maybe...at the wonder, the look Caius seemed to constantly give her, Callie tried to figure out why but it didn't seem like there could be an answer for that. She just wished she could understand the whole imprinting thing...
"Maybe...Pizza? Could get it delivered. Which means not having to move. Which means not having to get dressed. Which means..." She trailed off teasingly, before giving a slight frown, "But...I did want to pick some herbs for some potions...and I still have to go steal my stuff from the coven's house." She need to get her things, there were some important things to he there. @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius liked the idea of staying in and he loved the fact that she seemed to want more of him. He nodded, pulling her onto his lap. "I guess you have two choices to choose from. I could order pizza now, make love to you until it arrives, have dinner, make love again til we tire each other out and then get your stuff tomorrow morning OR..." He began trailing kisses on her neck, her shoulders and down her back. "...we can go out and grab your stuff, order pizza to go and be back here in no time..." his hands began carressing her. "...to continue making love to each other..." he leaned his forehead on her back. "God, you don't know how much I want you," his voice was almost a growl as he pushed her down the bed, got on top of her and took her roughly.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
There simply was no deny him. It was, for that time, like breathing. She just couldn't resist it. But despite the fact she could happily have stayed there, waiting for pizza to be delivered, she knew she needed to get her things, before Aleida either got rid of them, destroyed them, or claimed them for herself. That thought was enough to get her stiring, and she said "I have to get my things at least, or that...that vile woman will do something with them" She ran a hand through her hair, her charm bracelet tinkling, and blinded her eyes blearily.
"I should have put a spell on them..." Too little, too late now though. "But there's a pizza joint close by the house..."@Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius nodded. "I'll go along with whatever you decide to do. I realize that I must have sounded like a stalker or something earlier..." he started as he reached up and ran a hand through his hair embarrassedly. It looked almost comical. An embarrassed, stark naked Caius. "...but it's difficult to explain... Anyway, shall we get dressed and go get your things? We can do that first and then grab something to eat afterwards," he suggested.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
The way he looked...it was endearing and Callie..a slow roll of her heart, an almost spinning feeling of falling. oh, boy. she closed her eyes a moment, before opening them and smiling. He was just so adorable...she had a hard time resisting the urge to kiss him. She figured that would get them
Both fired up once more.
"it's okay...I can't say I understand it but...it's okay" she managed to disentangle herself from him, although that certainly was hard to do, and she found her clothes, wriggling back into them, running her fingers through her hair she didn't even think about using a glamour or anything.
She looked back and smiled again. "maybe...we could get the stuff quickly" she said, almost bashfully, but then sighed softly "I walked out without a key so we might have to break in..."@Kyrisse</s>
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<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius sighed. "I wish I can say that I'm good at breaking in and sneaking things out but I'm a wolf...not a cat. I can probably be a lot more useful in wolf form though," he glanced outside. "The darkness will be an advantage. But if the whole place is lighted up...well, a huge black wolf standing in brightness would be terribly conspicuous." He stood up and got dressed. "It doesn't mean I'm not gonna help you though. So..." he held out his hand to her. "...let's go?"</s>
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<|description|>Caius Aluredes
Age:
24
Height:
6'2
Weight:
190 lbs.
Species:
Werewolf
Personality:
While werewolves are known to be quick to anger, Caius is remarkably calm and patient both in wolf and in human form. He does, however, exhibit a very explosive anger when provoked. And when angered, he is quick, decisive and extremely brutal. He is very protective of his twin sister, Claudia, and would go to all lengths to protect her.
While vampires are a natural enemy, he sees this rule with a grain of salt. As long as they do not harm him and those he consider as friend or family, then he leaves them alone. However, in wolf form, his rational and considerate way of looking at vampires becomes a little harder to uphold.
History:
Orphaned at a young age, he and his twin sister were adopted by a human family. As a child, he was silent and thoughtful and often said things that were wise for his age. A close friend of the family once remarked that Caius had a very old soul when she looked deep into his eyes. Thinking it to be just the ramblings of an old lady, he pushed it out of his mind.
His first transformation happened on the full moon of his 13th birthday. Somehow sensing it before it happened, he had taken his sister deep into the forest where both of them underwent their painful transformation from human to wolf. Not being able to control his feral instincts and blinded by pain, he attacked Claudia until he heard her thoughts in his head. It had been an odd experience to be able to hear each other's thoughts but it was something he thought convenient. At first, he struggled to control the raw power ushered in by the light of the full moon but learned to control it in a matter of hours.
As the moon receded into the horizon, the twins transformed back into their human forms. But because of the fear of putting their adoptive family in danger, both decided it best to leave and seek out those similar to them, if they existed. But Claudia, bothered by the anger she always felt and fearing that she might hurt her twin, decided to go off on her own. Caius didn't try to hold her back but promised that he'll find her again someday.
He eventually found Crimson Keeper, a pack of 10 wolves tasked to keep a watchful eye on the vampires and making sure that they do not pose a threat to both werewolves and humans. Strangely enough, the pack welcomed them with reverence, something that Caius still wonders about until the present. He had time and again asked Darric, the pack leader, about it but he always replied that things will reveal themselves at the right opportune moment.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie shot him a grin, cheeky. "Well, thats where magic comes in handy. I can get the lights turned off if theres any and everything" She said, taking his hand, she started to lead the way out, soon reaching the coven house. She watched it for all of ten seconds, but there wa sno light on, nor any sign anyone was there. She glanced up at the sky, thoughtful. Ah. She started towards it, crouching in front of the door, she studied the lock, trying to make sure that there was no spell that would alert one of the coven, but they obviously hadn't thought of that.
"Apertus" She muttered, hearing the lock click open, she looked to Caius, to see if he could sense something she couldnt' within the house. @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
"What do you need to get in there? I need to know so that I can help you. Unless you only plan on using me as your get away car... or well, wolf." Caius chuckled as they made their way to the coven house. "Why do we need to sneak in anyway if those things belong to you? Can't we just, you know, walk up the front door, tell them that we're getting your stuff and then just walk away?" He looked up at the house and frowned when it looked empty. "Hmmm... At least I don't sense or smell anyone in there."</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
"Uh, clothes, some spell work stuff, a photo album. The photo album at all costs" Callie said softly, keeping her voice low, "Why? Because Aleida is...spiteful. If she knew I wanted them badly, she'd destroy them" She said, "And I can't force my way passed a group of witches, so..."She gave a shrug, still speaking softly despite the assurance that no one was here.
She summoned a ball of light at a word, to help her see although she was sure that Caius could see without it. Making her way upstairs, she nudged a door open. The room was a mess, having been ransacked, and for a moment Callie's heart seized, her eyes searching the room, she didn't care about what was probably long gone cash, stolen clothes, and spell supplies-all that could be replaced, but the photo album, her mothers locket, her fathers watch, they couldn't be.
Moving in a slight panic, Callie moved discarded clothes, hoping that her hiding spot hadn't been found. Hoping her spells had worked. @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Silently, in the darkness, Caius changed into his wolf form. He padded beside Callie as quietly as he can, the only thing visible in the darkness was his clear blue eyes reflecting the light from the orb the witch had summoned. His ears were pointing straight up, ready to hear any suspicious sounds. As Callie walked into a room, he could feel her panic. What was it that she said she needed found? A photo album? It shouldn't be difficult to find. He walked into the room, pressing his head on Callie's arm for a second just to assure her that everything will somehow be alright.
And then he turned his excellent sense of smell to the task. The album should smell like... hmmm... bleach and a combination of chemicals. Yes, that was it. He walked over to the bed, reached below it with his snout and pulled out a book of some sort. He looked towards Callie, one big paw on the cover of the book, a gesture to ask if that was what she was looking for.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
The presence of a large wolf should have freaked Callie out a bit, but it didn't. As he pressed his head against her a moment, Callie reached out, running her fingers through his fur, taking reassurance from him. Not many people would follow her on what must be a crazy mission.
She continued to search, glancing over every so often at Caius, seeing him with the book, she went over, relief sweeping over her. She approached and picked up the album, hugging it to her a moment. "thank you"
She knew that she could transfer the images into digital but there was something about feeling the photos..."it's all I have really of my parents" she shifted the album, to give him a hug, but stiffened as the door below opened, and her charm vibrated. "vampire" she barely breathed the word out, cursing herself for forgetting that Aleida had side with the vampires. @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius smelled and heard the vampire even before it stepped into the house. He bared his fangs towards its directions. He looked at Callie and gestured with his head to stay in the room. It was his responsibility to protect her and he didn't want her getting hurt. Blue eyes stared into her brown ones. Stay here, please. He knew she wouldn't hear his thoughts but he hoped she'd understand what he wanted to say through his eyes.
And with that, he turned away and charged out of the room.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie grimaced, not wanting to stay hidden, but knowing she had nothing to protect herself against a vampire just then. With a sigh, she watched Caius leave the room, worried for him. She went to the door, and tried to watch.
The vampire moved fast as Caius came barreling out, digging hands and feet into the wall it perched on, before he flung himself towards the werewolf. It was perhaps a fairly new vampire, turned in the last for weeks. For a brief second Callie saw their face and gasped. She recognized them as a witch that had gone missing.
She curled her hands around the door frame wondering for a moment just how far Aleida's betrayal went. but why turn a witch? They generally lost their powers...unless there was a way around that...
The vampire attacked with hands and teeth</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius bared his teeth at the vampire, a low menacing growl in his throat. From what he could tell, he was a fledgeling. But the new ones were always the most dangerous. They were relatively stronger, faster and dangerously ruthless. It was not wise to underestimate them.
When the vampire launched himself at him, Caius raised a paw and took a swipe at him, catching him across the chest and flinging him towards the far wall. The wolf didn't waste time, he sprung himself at his opponent, fangs bared and ready to tear him apart.
The fight didn't last very long, Caius proving himself the faster of the two. When he saw his chance, he lunged and clamped his teeth onto the vampires head. A simple jerk of his head tore the vampire's head clean off his neck. He tossed the head aside like it was some unwanted toy and then headed back to where Callie was. He gave her a series of short barking sounds, gesturing with his head towards the room, a clear message asking her to get what she needed so that they could leave.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie watched the fight, or tried to. It was so fast and over just like that. She couldn't believe just how quickly both moved. It was...frighting. Thrilling. She felt her heart speed up, afraid something might happen to Caius, but he seemed to come out unscathed. She let out a relieved breath. As Caius tried to communicate with her, she hesitated, before she muttered a few words, a spell.
"fammi sentire i propri pensieri interiori"
For a brief second, she heard his thoughts, his intention, what he'd been asking her, before the spell broke. She nodded, a little shaking and quickly grabbed the album, snatching up a change of clothes and her toiletry bag she darted out the room, not looking at the vampire's body.
"I think pizza is a must now"@Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
If there were fledgeling vampires running around then this place is definitely not safe for the two of them. As soon as they were out of the Coven house, Caius nudged Callie and gestured for her to get on his back. With her light weight, he wouldn't have any trouble carrying her while he ran. As soon as he felt her hands grab onto the fur on the back of his neck, he ran at half of his maximum speed, making sure not to throw her off. He passed by the pizza house and ran all the way back to the place he had rented.
It would have been strange to see a huge wolf lumber through the front door so he decided to pass through the fire exit. Once back in his unit, he changed back to his human form, not bothering to hide his nakedness from Callie.
"Yeah... after all that, I think we should just make a phone order," he grimaced as he looked at the gash the vampire made on his arm.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie had barely even ridden a bike before much less a wolf. But she climbed onto Caius, settling herself quickly not wanting to cause him any pain or unnessacary discomfort, she lightly tangled her fingers in his fur, leaning slightly forward so she wouldn't create any wind resistance.it may not have been the tasters he could go but it was still pretty damn face and Callie ended up nearly wrapping her arms around him.
When he stopped at the apartment Callie clambered off, settting the things she'd taken down, she began to riffle though her satchel, soon coming out with a salve of some sort, she stepped towards Caius, going to gently apply some to the gash on his arm
"a good idea..." she trailed off, biting her lip and glancing away
. @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius gave Callie a smile when she applied salve on his arm. He saw the look on her face. "Don't worry about it. It's just a flesh wound. It'll heal in a few hours... maybe even faster with what you put on it. Believe me, I've had worse." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Let me just put some clothes on and I'll go get that pizza. Any specific flavor you want?" A vampire attack would have worried him but he figured hunger was the most important problem to address at the moment. Talking about what had just happened will have to wait.
He walked over to his closet and took out a fresh pair of jogging pants and a clean shirt. "I think right now I can eat like four whole pizzas," he chuckled.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
"It's not that..well, not mostly" But how could she explain, when she couldn't even figure it out in her own mind? She watched him walk away to get dressed, and for a moment she was distracted thinking that that was such a shame. There was so much...and here she was disappointed that he was putting on clothes. "Not really, pizza is pizza, its all fantastic"
Bemused at herself, she put the salve away, and sat crossed legged, placing the album in her lap, laying her hand on its cover. "I think...that Aleida is trying to find a way to let witches keep their powers when turned. we aren't imortals, and we're highly suseptible to all sorts of things. We're human, really with....the ability to cast spells. She's sacrificing Coven members to do vampires dirty work.
She's going to destroy my parents coven" the thought of the coven her parents had worked so hard on being destroyed by that vile woman was a nightmare to Callie, but she couldn't do anything. And that seemed to make it a hundred times worse. @Kyrisse</s>
|
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius stood by the door, a thoughtful look on his face. "I always thought that witches have some sort of immortality potion they can brew. But... Well, turning themselves into vampires would definitely do the trick in the immortality section. It'd be impossible to magic after though. All magical affinity is lost when you transform into an entirely different specie." He paused for a moment. "Maybe we can still save your coven. We'll think of something. But it's better to think with a full stomach. Hold on. I'll be back," he said and then disappeared out the door.
A few minutes later, he walked back in with four boxes of pizza. "I'm sure I can do better than pizza next time... Dinner is served," he flipped open the first box and gestured to it.</s>
|
<|description|>Caius Aluredes
Age:
24
Height:
6'2
Weight:
190 lbs.
Species:
Werewolf
Personality:
While werewolves are known to be quick to anger, Caius is remarkably calm and patient both in wolf and in human form. He does, however, exhibit a very explosive anger when provoked. And when angered, he is quick, decisive and extremely brutal. He is very protective of his twin sister, Claudia, and would go to all lengths to protect her.
While vampires are a natural enemy, he sees this rule with a grain of salt. As long as they do not harm him and those he consider as friend or family, then he leaves them alone. However, in wolf form, his rational and considerate way of looking at vampires becomes a little harder to uphold.
History:
Orphaned at a young age, he and his twin sister were adopted by a human family. As a child, he was silent and thoughtful and often said things that were wise for his age. A close friend of the family once remarked that Caius had a very old soul when she looked deep into his eyes. Thinking it to be just the ramblings of an old lady, he pushed it out of his mind.
His first transformation happened on the full moon of his 13th birthday. Somehow sensing it before it happened, he had taken his sister deep into the forest where both of them underwent their painful transformation from human to wolf. Not being able to control his feral instincts and blinded by pain, he attacked Claudia until he heard her thoughts in his head. It had been an odd experience to be able to hear each other's thoughts but it was something he thought convenient. At first, he struggled to control the raw power ushered in by the light of the full moon but learned to control it in a matter of hours.
As the moon receded into the horizon, the twins transformed back into their human forms. But because of the fear of putting their adoptive family in danger, both decided it best to leave and seek out those similar to them, if they existed. But Claudia, bothered by the anger she always felt and fearing that she might hurt her twin, decided to go off on her own. Caius didn't try to hold her back but promised that he'll find her again someday.
He eventually found Crimson Keeper, a pack of 10 wolves tasked to keep a watchful eye on the vampires and making sure that they do not pose a threat to both werewolves and humans. Strangely enough, the pack welcomed them with reverence, something that Caius still wonders about until the present. He had time and again asked Darric, the pack leader, about it but he always replied that things will reveal themselves at the right opportune moment.</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius slept well. He never really had any problems sleeping before but being with the person meant for him made so much difference. He was content and happy, having her in his arms.
The moment Callie turned towards Caius, he opened his eyes. "Good morning," he greeted. And as if he read her thoughts, he grinned. "No, I'm not a figment of your imagination. I'm real and I'm here." He closed his eyes again but pulled her closer to him. "What are you doing up so early anyway?" he mumbled, his voice still sleepy.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie gave a soft laugh, "Ah, but a figment of my imagination would say that, wouldn't they?" She smiled, and there wasn't really anything that could convince her to get up right them, warm and happy. It was quite endearing, the sleepiness in his voice, and he was quite a lure in himself. She nestled close, even as he pulled her to him.
"I always wake early" She said, "When the sun is up, I'm up. Besides I can think of a few reasons why being up early is a good thing" she said, with amusement and shifting just slightly again, she kissed him for a moment, before pulling away, "Well, that and herbs are best to pick in the morning"
Still, there was a lot more of a lure here, then to going out an picking herbs...a little time couldn't hurt, right?</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius cracked open an eye and peered at Callie. "This early just to pick herbs?" He returned her kiss and when she pulled away, a playful grin was on his lips. He leaned forward and began trailing kisses on her jaw and then down her neck, positioning his body so that he was pressed against her and partially on top of her. "I can think of one reason why I'd be up this early," he murmured against her neck.
Just as quickly he started enticing her with kisses, he stopped. "Of course, I'd understand if you'd prefer picking herbs," he said with a teasing smile, confident that his charms was working on her. He looked at her hungrily for a few seconds before he leaned in and began kissing her neck again. "Just... tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it..."</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie gave a laugh, succumbing to the kisses, she did try to resist, yet it only lasted a second. She couldn't resist, it just didn't seem possible. She did however shiver slightly, at the way he looked at her, "Oh, I think the herbs can wait" She swallowed, "Oh, anything right now sounds great" Callie's voice was a little breathless, and she wrapped her arms around him, catching his lips with hers, herbs forgotten.
It seemed like they were going tohave a good start to the morning. The previous days troubles just seemed to fade away, and she deliberately moved against him, trying to press herself closer against him, and hold him tightly, just in case he had ideas of pulling away. @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Callie's movements against him immediately heated up Caius. She didn't even need to hold him so tightly. He had no plans of pulling away, at least not for hours. He continued kissing her while his hands began peeling away the clothes that separated their bodies from each other. When they were skin to skin, his hand began moving on her body, relishing the feel of her soft skin and enjoying how his touch made her wild.
It wasn't long before they were joined together. Caius took her over and over, each moan from her prompting him to move faster and harder. It was several hours later that they collapsed against each other, spent, soaked in sweat and panting.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie caught her breath, which seemed to take several minutes to do. She wondered how she could feel both exhausted, and full of energy, while never wanting to move from where she was. She gave a soft laugh, "At this rate, we might kill ourselves" She said, contemplating getting up, and having a shower. Instead, she reached for her charm bracelet which she'd hurriedly taken off, not wanting it to get in the way, or any of the charms to break, running her fingers over the charms, none had gone off. She was sure that the end of the world could have happened and neither of them would have had a clue.
"That certainly brought us well into a late morning" Yet she couldn't be disappointed. It was just simply...amazing. Yet now, hungry, thirsty, she wondered if she could get up, and make her way without falling on legs that felt wobbly.
Maybe it would be better to just stay where she was. Satisfied, well-sated, Callie snuggled against him. It certainly was a marvously way to start the day. "Caius...I..." She didn't know where she was going with that, and she trailed off @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius looked at Callie a little sheepishly, his cheeks flushed red as his lips. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I think I may have gotten a little carried away there. I don't think I'll ever get enough of you." He kissed her shoulder and then openly admired her nakedness against him. When her voice trailed off, he nodded. "Right. Supplies and herbs. I assume you're hungry too? I made you miss breakfast and I think it's almost lunch time by now."
He made a move to stand up. But he hesitated and laid back down. "I think maybe you should go ahead and take a shower first," he suggested. "If I went in there with you, we'll probably end up doing what we just did and I don't think we'll ever get out of the door." He chuckled.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
That hadn't been what she was going to say, but Callie had lost her nerve, so she just nodded, hoping her skin didn't flush. "Don't apologise, its too good to be sorry for" She said, with a smile, a little pleased as he seemed pleased with her body. It was hard not to be a little shy, though, when he looked at her like that. "Food sounds perfect" Right then, she decided she didn't care what it was.
She gathered her engery, with the loose feel of well-used muscles, she stretched, almost like a cat. She always thought she'd get a cat one day-most witches had them as familiars, but now she didn't know. Maybe an owl? That were more difficult to work with, but still. She gave a small laugh, and nodded "Alright then" But even knowing the risk, she gave him a quick kiss, before hurrying off to the bathroom.
She didn't waste much time, soon coming out dressed, and her hair dried with a quick charm, pulled back in a pony tail. "Okay" @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius paced the floor as Callie was taking a bath. Meeting her and imprinting wasn't part of his plans... not that he minded, really. Now that he had her, he felt at peace and complete. And no matter what happened, he will fight to keep her safe and stay by her side. His pre-made plans, however, would drastically change. Instead of hopping from one place to the other as part of his role as scout for the pack, he would probably end up taking root in the place where she decides to stay. That would probably be an inconvenience for Darric. But imprinting was what it was. He was sure the alpha wolf would understand. Besides, Aldric was as good a scout as he was.
As soon as Callie got out of the bathroom, her newly bathed scent filled his sense and it took a degree of effort not to pull her over to the bed again. Raging hormones. He was sure she'd eventually end up pushing him away if he kept on insisting that they made love every second. He was, after all, still a stranger. Like her, her hurried to the bathroom and immediately placed himself underneath a cold shower.
Minutes later, he was back outside, his hair still wet but he was completely clothed. "So... Food and supplies? Or do you wanna get your supplies first?" he asked.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie slipped on her charm bracelet, and was already poking around the kitchen when Caius came back out, slowly letting herself feel at home. She played around with her charms, knowing the detection charm would be good for a little bit longer, but that she should replace it as soon as possible, a couple of the charms could easily be pulled off, and invokved with a word, flung towards opponents. Harmless spells, to put to sleep and such. And some were merely to protect her. Sighing to herself, she glanced towards the bathroom as Caius came out, and smiled.
"Food first. The herbs can wait a little longer" She said decisively, "I've got some defensive charms that will do for however long it takes to get the herbs"
She had a small desire to run her fingers through his wet hair, and she stopped, studying him a moment. At least fate has decided to throw me something good for once she thought, and smiled again@Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius grinned and pointed to himself. "You have a guard dog here that would do anything to protect you," he winked at her and then shrugged. "But I suppose I understand the need for self defense." He walked over to where Callie was standing and brushed a quick kiss on her cheek. "So, food first... what do you wanna eat?" He grabbed his wallet from the night stand and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans.
He ticked off what he needed to do for the day, including Callie's tasks. Food, supplies, grocery, a few more clothes, a meeting with Darric and then coming home to Callie. That last part made him smile as he realized that he was looking forward to it.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie smiled, "Like sleepy time charms and things. they work on vampires, they get hit with one, down they go. Works on just about everything" She said, "And allows a quick get away. Do it right, and no one knows you were even there" She said, the charm bracelet clanging as she shook it, "Most of the charms here can be used for that sort of thing, and anyone can use them" She thought a moment, then gave a shrug, "I'm happy with anything, honestly. Ravishing leaves you not caring what it is, as long as its food" She said with a laugh.
The fact she had the defensive charms had always been to protect herself, but now she found herself wanting to use them to prevent Caius from getting hurt. So she'd keep them close, so that if anything happened, they'd both be safe. "But do you have anything to do today, I don't want to interrupt your plans..."</s>
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<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius looked at the charm bracelet Callie had. He once had a witch friend who told him things in detail. It all sounded extremely complicated and technical and she had been so animated and proud to explain everything to him that in the end, he just nodded and pretended that it all made sense. He had to admit, thought, that the things they made were useful. And they hurt too. He remembered being a target of a stinging charm more than once by an irate witch who thought he was the one stealing from her. Funny that he was actually the one trying to keep the thief away.
"Well, as long as they're not aimed at me, then we're good," he chuckled as he ushered her out of the door and then grinned at her comment. "Well, I've definitely worked up a large appetite. I know this really nice steak place just a few blocks away from here. Does that sound good?" he asked, bringing up other suggestions in his mind just in case she said no.
"Don't worry about me. I'll stay with you until I need to go about my business."</s>
|
<|description|>Caius Aluredes
Age:
24
Height:
6'2
Weight:
190 lbs.
Species:
Werewolf
Personality:
While werewolves are known to be quick to anger, Caius is remarkably calm and patient both in wolf and in human form. He does, however, exhibit a very explosive anger when provoked. And when angered, he is quick, decisive and extremely brutal. He is very protective of his twin sister, Claudia, and would go to all lengths to protect her.
While vampires are a natural enemy, he sees this rule with a grain of salt. As long as they do not harm him and those he consider as friend or family, then he leaves them alone. However, in wolf form, his rational and considerate way of looking at vampires becomes a little harder to uphold.
History:
Orphaned at a young age, he and his twin sister were adopted by a human family. As a child, he was silent and thoughtful and often said things that were wise for his age. A close friend of the family once remarked that Caius had a very old soul when she looked deep into his eyes. Thinking it to be just the ramblings of an old lady, he pushed it out of his mind.
His first transformation happened on the full moon of his 13th birthday. Somehow sensing it before it happened, he had taken his sister deep into the forest where both of them underwent their painful transformation from human to wolf. Not being able to control his feral instincts and blinded by pain, he attacked Claudia until he heard her thoughts in his head. It had been an odd experience to be able to hear each other's thoughts but it was something he thought convenient. At first, he struggled to control the raw power ushered in by the light of the full moon but learned to control it in a matter of hours.
As the moon receded into the horizon, the twins transformed back into their human forms. But because of the fear of putting their adoptive family in danger, both decided it best to leave and seek out those similar to them, if they existed. But Claudia, bothered by the anger she always felt and fearing that she might hurt her twin, decided to go off on her own. Caius didn't try to hold her back but promised that he'll find her again someday.
He eventually found Crimson Keeper, a pack of 10 wolves tasked to keep a watchful eye on the vampires and making sure that they do not pose a threat to both werewolves and humans. Strangely enough, the pack welcomed them with reverence, something that Caius still wonders about until the present. He had time and again asked Darric, the pack leader, about it but he always replied that things will reveal themselves at the right opportune moment.</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius chuckled as he dug into his own plate, finishing the thick, well cooked slab of meat in a matter of minutes. "That's why it's always worth it trying to find where he is once in a while. It's not always easy to though. He doesn't exactly leave a calling card behind. You can almost always find him in a posh restaurant though." He looked towards where Silas disappeared to and shrugged. "Somehow I think he finds me rather than me finding him. I'm pretty sure he'll be looking out fo you now as well."
"Dessert?" Silas called out from the kitchen.
Caius laughed out loud. "I'm sure you already have something ready," he called back.
"Indeed I do. I'll bring them out once your lady has finished her meal," Silas' voice floated back out.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie hadn't had anyone looking out for her, really, since her parents had died. The thought of suddenly having not only Caius, but Silas was a little overwhelming. She swallowed her bite, pondering that a moment. "You're making a strong case for him being some type of guardian" She said, taking another sip of wine.
She looked down at her plate at the mention of desert, seeing she still had some of the lunch left. A little awed at how quickly caius had eaten his, but remembering him just about inhaling the pizza last night made her smile, and she quickly got to work on the food, wondering just what desert would hold.
She did feel a little guilty at having this indulgence when there was the problem of her former coven being turned into vampires, when she had to restock her supplies, and harvest some herbs, as well as find a steady income, but she could admit is was nice to take the time off, and relax. She'd get through everyone, one way or another. At least if she could harvest the herbs, she'd be set spell wise.If thats all she got done today, then so be it.
Finishing off her food, she gently nudged the plate away, taking the wine in hand, leaning back into the chair slightly, and watching Caius. @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius shrugged. "I can't explain what he is but that's what he does. Ever since I can remember, he's looked out for me and my sister. I appreciate it a lot and I hope one day I'd be able to show him." He watched Callie finish off her food. He lost himself in his thoughts the was she lost herself in hers.
Growing up away from their foster parents. The couple had been nice and loving to him and Claudia but the day they both sprouted fur and sharp fangs, it had been time to leave. It was Caius' idea to run away. He didn't want to hurt the people who treated them as their own and them being humans put them in a lot of danger. But being 13 and homeless wasn't easy. They both begged and slept on the streets until Silas took them in that one winter's night and gave them warm food and shelter. Since then, life became a little easier.
Being lost in his thoughts, Caius didn't even notice that Callie had finished eating and had leaned back and was watching him. His reverie was broken only by footsteps heading towards them. "The appreciation you show me through your ravenous appetite is thanks enough for me, my dear boy." Silas said as he smiled at Caius, obviously overhearing what the wolf said earlier despite not being in the room. He placed a plate in front of Callie. On it was a delectable dessert made of chocolate, cream and raspberries. He placed the second plate in front of Caius. "Dessert is served," he announced with a flourish.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie looked to the desert, wondering just how she was going to fit that in her stomach, shifting slightly, and stretching as she took in the delicious looking layered cake like thing. [colorr=fff000]"Thank you, it looks simply delectable"[/color] She said brightly. giving Silas a smile of thanks appreciation. She didn't think she had eaten so well...ever. Except for her mothers cooking. While Callie had inherited her mothers skill with potions, Callie could never come close to her mothers skill in cooking, something she was sorely disappointed in.
Shifting, she picked up a spoon, carefully breaking off apiece of the dessert, and bringing it to her mouth, getting a little bit of cream to the side of her mouth, seemingly unnoticed. It tasted every bit as delicious as it looked, and she chewed slowly, letting herself enjoy wickedly delicious treat. The last day had certainly been an interesting first date, one sne found she never wanted to end.
It was certainly magical, and Callie leaned against the table so she wouldn't have to be worried so much about spilling the dessert everywhere. "I'm full, but i so don't want to stop eating this delicious....thing"@Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Like the steak he had been served, Caius finished his dessert in a matter of minutes. He grinned at Callie. "Well, I suggest you finish it cause there are no take outs in Silas' restaurant." He looked towards their host, not really surprised that he was no longer standing by their table or anywhere close by. "Aand there he goes." He leaned back on his chair, a look of content on his face. "Thanks, Uncle Silas."
A faint laughter floated back to the couple followed by a similarly faint goodbye. "Until next time, dear children."
Caius turned his attention back to Callie. "No need to hurry though. We have all the time in the world in here."</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie wasn't to sure if Caius was joking or not about not being able to take it with her, and she looked down at the dessert. It was practically a mountain. She swallowed, and took another bite, smiling as she looked up, glancing about, and seeking any sign of magic in how Silas had disappeared. Shifting, she concenrtated on he desserrt for a few moments, before she looked back up, "I don't think I can do it" She nudged the plate towards Caius, leaning back, well satisfied. It had been a lot of food, even famished as she was.
"It's nice just being here, and I wish we didn't have to go, but i do need the herbs at least" She said with a soft sigh, stretching slightly, and runninga hand through her hair, watching Caius with a smile that she didn't even know she was wearing. @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius was just finishing up his own dessert when Callie pushed her dessert plate towards him. He raised an eyebrow at her, looked at it, shrugged, pulled it closer to him and began digging into it. There was really no sense in wasting food. Especially food Silas prepared. Besides, if they left it there, it would just magically disappear to wherever Silas sent unfinished food to. And that would be a shame. He happily finished off the delectable chocolate and raspberry treat, not really worrying about gaining weight like most people seem to worry about. The amount of energy he expended running around in his wolf form was enough to keep him fit and burn all unwanted fat and sugar. "We can go out, get your herbs and then just hunt down Uncle Silas again later and stay in his little world. I definitely wouldn't mind the good food," he said in between bites.
He finished the dessert in a matter of minute and then looked up at Callie. He blinked when he found her staring at him with a smile on her face. "A penny for your thoughts."</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie seemeed taken aback at the question, "What?" She blushed as she realised she had been staring, and glanced away. "Um...I..." She didn't know what to say, not even truly sure what she had been thinking. "I was just...thinking...about, well...you" She said, shifting embarrassedly, rising when she saw that he had finished the dessert.
"Um...that sounds like a good idea" She said, trying to get passed her sudden nerves, hoping she hadn't said anything wrong "uh, i know a couple of good places to pick herbs and stuff..."
She knew, reasonable, that she wasn't going to scare Caius off-she doubted anything would, but she had been staring. And a lot of people didn't like staring. @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius noticed the look of embarrassment on Callie's face and chuckled. He wiped his mouth with his table napkin, folded the cloth neatly and then placed it beside his empty plate before he stood up. He closed the short distance between him and Callie, draped an arm on her waist and then pulled her towards him. "You've seen me naked, I won't mind if you stare at me when I'm fully clothed," he teased, his eyes glinting with humor. He leaned forward and kissed her, his lips moving hungrily against hers. "I prefer being naked together though. We can stare at each other all we want," he said suggestively as he pulled back and released her.
"But yeah... herbs. We should go get them, I guess," he grinned sheepishly as he ran a hand through his hair. "Come on then," he said, offering his hand for her to hold.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Shifting closer to Caius, she bowed her head, bashful, "I know...but there's a difference between being void of clothes, and having...your emotions known" She said softly, returning his kiss, unable to describe the passions awoken because of him. She lost her train of thought for a moment, and she cleared her throat, gathering them. "i just...never felt like this before" She said, almost a whisper.
Shifting and training to gain her...balance again, taking his offered hand, liking the way he mussed up his hair when he ran his fingers through it. "Well, yeah, I need them for defense, and if there's going to be vampires around, to give us an advantage" She said, feeling more steady, glancing about where they were, and gaining her bearings, "This way" She said, leading the way, towards the outskirts of town.
"Not many people farm for herbs anymore, growing them in their own gardens, so generally these ones are pretty full" @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
"I suppose defense to a witch is different from defense to a wolf. All I really need is my other form, my teeth, my claws, my speed and my strength... But don't get me wrong. I can see how useful charms can be," Caius said, making small conversation, as he let Callie lead him to where they would be collecting her herbs from. "So, tell me a bit more about yourself. I mean, I know your name, where you once lived and what you wanna do. Oh, and I know that you like pizza. But I don't know anything else aside from that. It'd be weird that we've already gotten to know each other intimately but not know anything else about each other." He smiled sheepishly.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
"A lot of it is to do with my own morals. I don't want to hurt people badly, I'd rather get rid of them harmlessly" Callie said, with a shrug "Its how I've always done it" She said, as she continued on their way. "Ah. Well there really isn't much too tell. I like to draw, and play games, even if I do suck at them. I love the outdoors, my parents died a few months ago, hence why Iwas living at the coven's house. Iget visions sometimes...but you know that. I think I mentioned that..." She gave a shrug. "What do you want to know?" @Kyrisse</s>
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<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius nodded as Callie enumerated things about herself. When asked, she shrugged nonchalantly. "Everything about you. But really, anything you want to tell me. I don't ask specific questions because you might not want to answer them. Of course, what you tell me, I'd give back in terms of information about myself." He glanced at her and grinned. "For starters, I like running and swimming. I like playing ice hockey... or rather I love pretending I'm good at it," he chuckled. "I have a twin sister and we don't have any idea who our parents are. We do have foster parents but we ran away from them when we were 13. Not because they were cruel or anything but because we were scared of hurting them. You see, that was when we both turned into wolves. We didn't get bitten or anything so I'm guessing we were born wolves."</s>
|
<|description|>Caius Aluredes
Age:
24
Height:
6'2
Weight:
190 lbs.
Species:
Werewolf
Personality:
While werewolves are known to be quick to anger, Caius is remarkably calm and patient both in wolf and in human form. He does, however, exhibit a very explosive anger when provoked. And when angered, he is quick, decisive and extremely brutal. He is very protective of his twin sister, Claudia, and would go to all lengths to protect her.
While vampires are a natural enemy, he sees this rule with a grain of salt. As long as they do not harm him and those he consider as friend or family, then he leaves them alone. However, in wolf form, his rational and considerate way of looking at vampires becomes a little harder to uphold.
History:
Orphaned at a young age, he and his twin sister were adopted by a human family. As a child, he was silent and thoughtful and often said things that were wise for his age. A close friend of the family once remarked that Caius had a very old soul when she looked deep into his eyes. Thinking it to be just the ramblings of an old lady, he pushed it out of his mind.
His first transformation happened on the full moon of his 13th birthday. Somehow sensing it before it happened, he had taken his sister deep into the forest where both of them underwent their painful transformation from human to wolf. Not being able to control his feral instincts and blinded by pain, he attacked Claudia until he heard her thoughts in his head. It had been an odd experience to be able to hear each other's thoughts but it was something he thought convenient. At first, he struggled to control the raw power ushered in by the light of the full moon but learned to control it in a matter of hours.
As the moon receded into the horizon, the twins transformed back into their human forms. But because of the fear of putting their adoptive family in danger, both decided it best to leave and seek out those similar to them, if they existed. But Claudia, bothered by the anger she always felt and fearing that she might hurt her twin, decided to go off on her own. Caius didn't try to hold her back but promised that he'll find her again someday.
He eventually found Crimson Keeper, a pack of 10 wolves tasked to keep a watchful eye on the vampires and making sure that they do not pose a threat to both werewolves and humans. Strangely enough, the pack welcomed them with reverence, something that Caius still wonders about until the present. He had time and again asked Darric, the pack leader, about it but he always replied that things will reveal themselves at the right opportune moment.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie gave him an almost knowing smile, aware of what he had wanted to say, but hadn't. "I will" she promised, giving him a hug, and a kiss, a surprising feeling of normalcy flowing over her. It was almost as if....she was merely saying goodbye at the door, on their s3perate ways for the day. She gave him a small smile. "I'll see you later" she said softly, knowing they could be there all night, but that he needed to go, that he had responsibilities, and that she couldn't keep him from them. "I'll make breakfast" she said, nudging him towards the door</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius gave Callie a lopsided grin, returned her hug and kiss and then nodded. "Hopefully, the new wolves won't be too much trouble. I'll be back soon," he said before turning away and heading out the door. Once outside, his thoughts turned back to what had happened earlier. The encounter with the witch brought so many questions to mind.
You're not what you appear to be, wolf.
What did that mean?
I am a wolf. What else would I be? he thought as he made his way out of the building and into the darkness.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie watched Caius leave her, to go help lead and protect the young wolves. While she was proud, Callie was worried... what if he didn't come back? She turned away from the door, lowering her head at her own foolishness... she hadn't known him long, what right did she have to feel this way? And yet... she did. She couldn't seem to help it. The way he made her feel... she sighed softly, and began to put up some wards, if only to give Caius peace of mind that she was alright, and safe.
She busied herself, gathering up her supplies, and packing them up, readying herself in case something did happen, and then, with some hesitation, she sat on the bed, cross legged, and bowed her head, closing her eyes, she opened herself to visions, as if she could see if anything would befall Caius and stop them... but it had been a few days since she'd let herself see anything, and she knew that she needed to. Plus... it gave her something to do while she waited.</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
As the darkness enveloped Caius, he phased into his wolf form, howling up at the moon. He ran in and out of the trees, heading towards the clearing where the other wolves would gather. As he neared the place, he could feel the new minds joining their collective thought. Nervous, excited, uncertain and scared thoughts all filtered into his head followed by Darric's calm, commanding voice. They were all gathered already and he could sense restlessness in the pack. Some of them were revving up for a fight, something that was common on a day like this.
He stepped out of the trees, the moonlight shining on his black fur. Clear blue eyes looked around at the smaller wolves, their new addition, called into the bloodline with the sudden influx of vampires. The growling ceased as several pair of feral eyes rested on Caius.
Darric's laughter echoed in all their minds. The calm that Caius brings with him. Ever since you joined the pack, Caius, all full moons have been easy to manage.
At their leader's words, one wiry haired wolf that was standing closest to Caius bared his teeth and growled low, a clear sign of challenge.
Caius turned his blue eyes to the smaller wolf, bared his own fangs and growled back.
Don't mistake my calmness for gentleness, wolf, Caius warned. But the young wolf had no plans on heeding his peer's word and launched himself, bangs bared and claws extended, ready to tear and maim. Caius met the wolf's attack head on.
The older members of the pack stepped back, including Darric, making way for the first challenge of the night. Those that remained in the center were the new wolves, most of them getting worked up by the courage that the wiry haired one displayed. Some of the more level headed ones stepped back.
---
Several hours and several fights later, just as Caius was catching his breath from all the challenges he had to take, a malicious singsong voice echoed in the night.
"A gathering of mutts, I see. It'll be so much easier to rid the world of your kind now that you're gathered in one spot." The witch that had attacked Caius and Callie before called out. All wolves turned their attention to where the voice came from. She was floating mid air, the shadows of the trees hiding her from plain view. "Let's make sure you don't interfere this time, Lupo Dio," the witch pointed a finger at Caius and a red sigil appeared underneath his feet. "You'll die a painful death after I deal with your... minions," she added and started raining spells on the other wolves.
Caius poised himself to attack but found that he couldn't move, all four feet glued to the spot where the sigil glowed. Pain lanced through his whole body the more he struggled against it. He saw two young wolves fall dead on the ground as several more witches hovered into view. He struggled harder, the pain intensifying as he did. The older wolves were furiously attacking, managing to catch and tear through two witches who screamed in pain as fangs teared through their flesh. Darric and the silver wolf, Anaia, were heading towards the witch's leader.
His flesh screaming in pain, Caius continued to struggle against the transparent binds that held him in place. He growled, grinding his fangs in frustration. It made no sense why the witch singled him out. He pushed the thought aside and focused on setting himself free.
He could see the witch readying an attack to hurl at both Darric and Anaia. He didn't know how but he knew that it would be fatal to the wolves if the spell hit them. If he could only break free...
And then it happened.
Everything seemed to slow down. As Caius looked around him, he could see wispy strands that snaked up his body from the sigil. While they looked thin and easily broken, they held him in place tightly. With a snarl, he snapped at the strings and as they broke against his fangs, he immediately felt his body become lighter, the pain ebbing away. He didn't waste any more time and shrugged the rest of it off.
As soon as he was free, he launched himself at the witch, catching the full brunt of her spell with his body, the same way he did for Callie. His body immediately became numb and he hit the ground with a thud. At the same time, he heard a scream as the two wolves descended on the witch, his timely intervention letting them successfully proceed with their attack.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Lupo Dio..
Callie leaned back on the bed, thoughtful, the laptop she was using on her legs, as she stretched out, notes spread over to show that she was doing some research. She figured that she needed to know truly what she was getting into… and the internet had some truly supernatural corners, if you knew where to look. Her book of shadows also helped her, and she had stumbled across the… name? Title? Of Lupo Dio.
Wolf god.
She wasn't too sure if the source she was reading from was reliable, and yet… There was something to it, she thought… Maybe she should as Caius, once he came back. It would certainly be an interesting conversation, and… She wanted to ask him about what he had done, earlier. She sighed, glancing out the window at the lightening sky, more than a little trouble. She knew she shouldn't worry about Caius, but she couldn't help it. She sighed, and ran her hand through her hair, pushing her laptop onto the bed, she rose.
She padded towards the kitchen, opening the fridge, cupboards, anything, not sure what she was looking for, if she was looking for anything that was, before she moved around the apartment, filled with energy that she couldn't seem to get rid off, going towards the window, and looking out. She saw nothing, and yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. More than a little unnerved, Callie walked around the apartment again, checking her potions and spells, walking around again. As the sky grew lighter and lighter, Callie decided that she couldn't just stay in the apartment forever. She needed to find Caius and make sure that he was alright.
She armed herself with potions, and spells, draping charms about her person, and shoving potions into her satchel, and started out. She had a general idea of where Caius would be, and where she could look, and with her magic, she was sure that she could hunt him down. She stopped, muttering a few words, before continuing.</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
A woman wearing a tight black leather suit switched off the ignition of her motorcycle and removed her helmet, revealing long black hair, a handsome face and piercing blue eyes. She looked around, wrinkling her nose in disgust. While she could smell the scent of wolves, the town reeked of vampires and witches. Why Caius wanted to stay in a place like this was beyond her comprehension.
She looked towards a woman across the street. From the distance, the newcomer could sense that she was a witch and the words she was muttering were most probably incantations. She swung her leg off her bike, leaned it on its stand and jogged towards the woman. As she got closer, she caught a whiff of Caius' scent. It was all over the witch.
She narrowed her eyes.
"Hey, witch. Where's Caius? What have you done to him?" she called out, hostility obvious in her voice. Last night had been horrible. She felt a sharp pain in her chest as though someone had stabbed her with a knife. She feared that something happened to her brother and so she wasted no time getting on her bike and speeding towards the direction she smelled his scent. If the witch had done something to Caius, she was ready to tear her apart.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Distracted, Callie wasn't aware that someone was watching her, and scrutinising her. She looked up at the sound of the voice, rather an angry voice, despite coming from a woman. Hell hath no fury and all that, she thought to herself, wondering what she could have possibly done wrong. She paused a minute, to try and figure out the best response to this anger. She recalled Caius telling her that he had a sister… From the anger, she figured this was her.
Shifting slightly, she finished off her spell, closing it off, and stopping her magic. Why was she here? Did she know if something had happened to Caius? It seemed likely, given the woman's words. Callie calmly considered her options, considered what she could say. "I haven't done anything with him... I don't know where he was, he was training the new pups, he went out last night" Her own worry grew, and Callie let out a slow, shaky breath.
"He told me to stay inside. I promised I would… He should be back by now, but he isn't... " She glanced away, knowing that was probably dangerous, but… She closed her eyes tightly for a minute, before she looked back to the woman. "I don't know where he is, and if you want to hurt me for that, you can bloody well try. But I'm going to find him, if you want to help with that, great" She said, before turning away from her, and starting off once more.
"Just a heads up. I'm not just a witch. I'm a damned good one" She said over her shoulder, as she continued on. @Kyrisse</s>
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<|message|>Caius Aluredes
The woman scoffed. "I don't care how good a witch you think you are. But when I find out that you did something to Caius, I will make sure to tear you limb from limb," she warned in a cool, calculated voice that could send shivers down a grown man's spine. And then just like that, without pausing and in daylight, the dark haired woman took off and phased to her wolf form mid run. Using her superb sense of smell, she locked onto her brother's scent and followed it into the woods.
At her full running speed, she got to where the wolves convened the night before in a matter or minutes. His scent was the strongest in the clearing. She could smell blood--his blood intermixed with a musky, earthy scent of witches. Had there been a battle here? Where was he? She reached out with her mind, trying to call out to her twin. But she was met only with silence. Her blood ran cold and she howled furiously as she tried picking up his trail again.</s>
|
<|description|>Caius Aluredes
Age:
24
Height:
6'2
Weight:
190 lbs.
Species:
Werewolf
Personality:
While werewolves are known to be quick to anger, Caius is remarkably calm and patient both in wolf and in human form. He does, however, exhibit a very explosive anger when provoked. And when angered, he is quick, decisive and extremely brutal. He is very protective of his twin sister, Claudia, and would go to all lengths to protect her.
While vampires are a natural enemy, he sees this rule with a grain of salt. As long as they do not harm him and those he consider as friend or family, then he leaves them alone. However, in wolf form, his rational and considerate way of looking at vampires becomes a little harder to uphold.
History:
Orphaned at a young age, he and his twin sister were adopted by a human family. As a child, he was silent and thoughtful and often said things that were wise for his age. A close friend of the family once remarked that Caius had a very old soul when she looked deep into his eyes. Thinking it to be just the ramblings of an old lady, he pushed it out of his mind.
His first transformation happened on the full moon of his 13th birthday. Somehow sensing it before it happened, he had taken his sister deep into the forest where both of them underwent their painful transformation from human to wolf. Not being able to control his feral instincts and blinded by pain, he attacked Claudia until he heard her thoughts in his head. It had been an odd experience to be able to hear each other's thoughts but it was something he thought convenient. At first, he struggled to control the raw power ushered in by the light of the full moon but learned to control it in a matter of hours.
As the moon receded into the horizon, the twins transformed back into their human forms. But because of the fear of putting their adoptive family in danger, both decided it best to leave and seek out those similar to them, if they existed. But Claudia, bothered by the anger she always felt and fearing that she might hurt her twin, decided to go off on her own. Caius didn't try to hold her back but promised that he'll find her again someday.
He eventually found Crimson Keeper, a pack of 10 wolves tasked to keep a watchful eye on the vampires and making sure that they do not pose a threat to both werewolves and humans. Strangely enough, the pack welcomed them with reverence, something that Caius still wonders about until the present. He had time and again asked Darric, the pack leader, about it but he always replied that things will reveal themselves at the right opportune moment.</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Blue eyes very similar to Caius' ones looked at Callie. It was as if the female wolf was weighing her words, trying to determine if they were worth hearing out and trusting. When the witch said something about an attack, a low growl formed in her throat as her ears folded back on her head and her fangs bared themselves. If she knew that something like this would happen to his brother, then she shouldn't have wandered off too far away from him.
She watched as Callie began muttering what was probably a spell.
But the female wolf didn't need any spells to find the only family that she had. She reached out with her mind again. Even if Caius was in his wolf form or not, she was certain that he'd hear her. Somehow. He had to.
CAIUS! Where are you? she called out.
Silence.
CAIUS! There was frustration and desperation in her voice.
Silence.
The female wolf howled.
And then a voice. A quiet, weak voice spoke in her head.
Claudia?
The black wolf's ears pointed straight up, immediately zoning in on where the male wolf was. You're hurt. I'm coming to get you. She turned and nudged Callie with her snout and then gestured to her back. She wanted the human to get on her back so she can run to the direction her brother's voice was coming from. She had no idea if she'd be able to communicate what she meant but it didn't matter. If the witch doesn't get it then she can go ahead and look for Caius by herself. She waited for a few seconds, impatiently pawing the ground.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
While she knew that wolves had their own way of doing things, Callie still put faith in her magic. Besides… It was what she knew. Still, she had come to learn to trust a wolves instincts… if she hadn't, she wouldn't be right where she was, so it wasn't much of a decision for her. As Claudia nuged her, Callie glanced to the wolf, wondering what had changed between "tear apart" and now. A smile played about her lips, but soon disappeared. If Caius was hurt... She gave a small nod, and a little uneasy, she climbed onto the She-Wolf's back.
She leaned down slightly, muttering a few words, a hand laid flat against Claudia's side, a protective spell. She didn't bother asking- it took mere seconds to do, and she was sure that Claudia would refuse if she asked.
She sat straight, gently twining her hands through Claudia's fur, so she wouldn't hurt, but so she was secure.</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Claudia didn't like having anyone on her back but perhaps it was the witch's concern and desire to locate her brother that made her allow it. As soon as she felt the weight settle on her back, she didn't waste any time launching herself into a full run. She zipped and out of the trees, zooming towards where she was sure Caius was. Wolf and witch was a black and white blur to anyone who was watching. She didn't stop and only slowed down when they got to a clearing where a log cabin stood. It was where Caius' scent was the strongest.
Caius? she reached out with her mind again.
But she was met the silence.
She growled. She could smell several other wolves' scent. Her anger flared up. She was angry that they could have done something to her brother. Shaking off the witch from her back, she launched herself towards the cabin door, fully intent on ramming through the small door with her large frame. But before the wolf could hit wood and glass, a man with a scar running through his left eye opened the door. Claudia stopped in her tracks and bared her fangs. In the man's hands was a set of clothes. "Claudia," he greeted, unfazed by the huge black wolf glaring and baring her fangs at him. He tossed the clothes to her. "Put the clothes on and I'll bring you to your brother," he said in the same calm voice before turning towards Callie. "You're welcome to come in as well, Callie," he said before turning around and walking into the cabin, leaving the door wide open behind him.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie knew that Claudia had been doing this a long time, yet the rush of the wind, the way it breezed past her ears, almost painful, and the motion of the wolf's strides made her feel a little sick. She closed her eyes, and focused on breathing as the she-wolf ran, so she wouldn't freak out. With her blood magic at work, Callie knew they were going in the right direction not that she doubted Claudia. It was nice having it confirmed, however.
She opened her eyes when Claudia began to slow down, narrowing them as she released there was something else going on here… her mind went back to where they had been attacked, the previous morning. If that witch had harmed Caius… Callie wouldn't hold back. And it might be the first time she would even contemplate using black magic. For Caius, she would.
She lay a hand on Claudia's side when she growled, advising caution, but knowing she wouldn't listen to her. Still, it soothed Callie to know she wasn't alone. Right up until Claudia shook her off. Callie rolled into a somersault, and onto her feet, spells at the ready. As the man began to speak, Callie shifted, eyes narrowing once more.
Was it a trap? Callie wasn't sure… but she had to know, had to make sure, that Caius was alright. So glancing to Claudia, she stepped forward, "Where is he?" She demanded.</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
A few seconds later and Claudia was back in her human form, hurriedly putting on the clothes the man had tossed to her and shaking her long black hair a little haughtily. She snorted indignantly towards the open door before glancing back at Callie. In the short span of time that they were together, the dark haired woman seemed to have lost all hostility towards the witch. "That was the pack leader apparently. We are in the territory of Caius' pack," she explained then gestured with her head towards the open door. "He's in there and he's alive."
Without waiting for Callie to say anything, Claudia hurriedly walked towards the cabin's entrance.
---
Inside, a huge black wolf almost identical to how Claudia looked in her own wolf form laid unmoving on the bed, the only indication of life was the up and down movement of his chest. Claudia felt her temper flare up at the poor condition of her brother. She hurried over to the bedside and then glared at the man that was standing just a few feet away. "You allowed this to happen to Caius," she accused in a tone that was downright hostile.
"He saved me and all the wolves during the attack last night. He took the full brunt of a spell meant to kill us. I brought him here in the hopes that we'd be able to protect him if that witch decides to come after him," the man replied.
Claudia's blue eyes flashed with anger. "How do you plan on protecting my brother if all of you had to depend on him to save your asses from some stupid spell? Why has he not reverted to his human form yet? The full moon has already passed. Was it some sort of curse?" she fired one question after the other.
The man calmly shook his head. "I... have no idea. After he passed out, we were expecting that he would revert back. But even when the sun had already risen in the sky, he still remained a wolf. Perhaps something in that spell...?" he turned his attention to Callie. "Would you know anything about it?"
Claudia made a low growling sound in her throat as though she was still a wolf. Her stance and the way her hands shook in anger made it obvious that she was trying to control the anger that was threatening to spill over. "What kind of pack leader are you?" she spatted out.
"A good one," came Caius' soft voice. He was human again. And naked. "Calm down, Claudia," he added as he struggled to sit up.
Claudia's eyes widened and relief washed over her face as she looked down at her brother. She didn't seem to mind that he was stark naked as she leaned forward and enveloped the obviously still tired Caius in a huge hug. A few seconds passed before she pulled back and scowled at him. "What the hell, Caius!?"
Caius gave his sister a weak grin. "Glad to see you too, Claudia," he said before glancing at Callie. "I must have worried you, Callie. I'm sorry," he apologized.</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie sighed softly, before she followed after Claudia, more than a little uneasy. She glanced around, soon spying the wolf that was Cauis. Concerned, Callie nevertheless hesitated, no matter how much she wanted to go over to him. She wasn't a wolf, nor did she know these people. She didn't know how they'd react… especially after a witch had attacked them. she watched Claudia go over, glancing to the man, she listened to what the two were saying, but her gaze returned to Caius.
Callie shook her head as the man asked her a question. "i really can't say for certain... maybe if i could see the site where it happened, I could figure out what the spell was. But it's possible… it's also possible that his body is simply staying in the stronger form, to deal with any residue effects of te spell" She said, but she was quite unsure.
Claudia's anger was almost palpable, and she looked to the she-wolf, hesitating. But then she heard Caius's voice,and she looked back to him. She stood a little awkwardly, not sure what to do, but wanting to go over to him. She stayed where she was as Claudia went over and enveloped him, sighing softly in relief.
She shook her head, "I knew you were okay, my spells wouldn't have worked otherwise" She said softly, giving him a smile, "Are you okay?"</s>
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<|message|>Caius Aluredes
While Claudia fussed around her brother and finally got him to put on clothing, Caius had his attention on Callie. And when he spoke, the man whose house they were apparently in stood silently to the side watching Caius. "I'm fine. Just... tired. And no need to go back to where it all happened. They might have left traps or something. It's not safe."
At his words, Claudia stopped and furrowed her brow. "What? What do you mean no need to go back there? We need to find out what that wretched witch threw at you. Your girlfriend said she could try to figure it out."
"Residuam Mortem," Caius said in a quiet voice.
Claudia blinked and then stared at her younger brother.
"She meant to kill me slowly, rooted to that spot where she trapped me," the younger of the twin wolves explained calmly.
The haughty looking female wolf stared almost incredulously at Caius. "How do you... Are you sure? Then... how are you alive?"
Caius shook his head. "I don't know."
The silently observing pack leader watched the twins silently, his gray eyes on the male wolf. Maybe he really is who I think he is...</s>
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<|description|>Caius Aluredes
Age:
24
Height:
6'2
Weight:
190 lbs.
Species:
Werewolf
Personality:
While werewolves are known to be quick to anger, Caius is remarkably calm and patient both in wolf and in human form. He does, however, exhibit a very explosive anger when provoked. And when angered, he is quick, decisive and extremely brutal. He is very protective of his twin sister, Claudia, and would go to all lengths to protect her.
While vampires are a natural enemy, he sees this rule with a grain of salt. As long as they do not harm him and those he consider as friend or family, then he leaves them alone. However, in wolf form, his rational and considerate way of looking at vampires becomes a little harder to uphold.
History:
Orphaned at a young age, he and his twin sister were adopted by a human family. As a child, he was silent and thoughtful and often said things that were wise for his age. A close friend of the family once remarked that Caius had a very old soul when she looked deep into his eyes. Thinking it to be just the ramblings of an old lady, he pushed it out of his mind.
His first transformation happened on the full moon of his 13th birthday. Somehow sensing it before it happened, he had taken his sister deep into the forest where both of them underwent their painful transformation from human to wolf. Not being able to control his feral instincts and blinded by pain, he attacked Claudia until he heard her thoughts in his head. It had been an odd experience to be able to hear each other's thoughts but it was something he thought convenient. At first, he struggled to control the raw power ushered in by the light of the full moon but learned to control it in a matter of hours.
As the moon receded into the horizon, the twins transformed back into their human forms. But because of the fear of putting their adoptive family in danger, both decided it best to leave and seek out those similar to them, if they existed. But Claudia, bothered by the anger she always felt and fearing that she might hurt her twin, decided to go off on her own. Caius didn't try to hold her back but promised that he'll find her again someday.
He eventually found Crimson Keeper, a pack of 10 wolves tasked to keep a watchful eye on the vampires and making sure that they do not pose a threat to both werewolves and humans. Strangely enough, the pack welcomed them with reverence, something that Caius still wonders about until the present. He had time and again asked Darric, the pack leader, about it but he always replied that things will reveal themselves at the right opportune moment.</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
All occupants if the dining table were lost in their own thoughts, making the meal a silent one. Claudia thought about how to deal with the pesky magic users, Caius chewed on the idea of having Callie turn herself into one of them while Darric watched them all. A few minutes passed by before the pack leader decided to break the silence. He cleared his throat. "I can see the wheels in your heads turning. Let me hear it then, he said, looking pointedly at Caius.
Caius lifted his head, blue eyes looking straight into Darric's gray ones. "Callie is thinking of turning herself into one of us... magically," he stated straightforwardly. "Claudia thinks it's a good idea," he added.
Mmhmm... Claudia agreed in between chewing, not bothering to say anything else.
Darric's gaze was still on Caius. But he didn't need to voice out the next question. "I'm honestly worried. Callie has strong magic but I don't exactly know how magic is with wolf physiology and psychology. But I'd trust her if she thinks she can do it," Caius answered the pack leader's unspoken question.
Darric gave Caius a small nod before turning his attention to the witch. "Well...?"</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie silently went inside with Caius, wishing that she hadn't said anything to him. She shouldn't have said anything at all... She was making things harder for him, and she shouldn't be. Looking down at her food, not particularly eating any of it, she sighed to herself. Looking up as Darric spoke, Callie swallowed and dropped her hands into her lap.
"Look, it isn't something that I can truly explain. There's a magic, mixing lay-line and earth, that enables witches who are particularly skilled in that area to transform into creatures. Doing so like that... well, it allows us to retain ourselves." she said softly, "It will enable me to not be a burden... but... but it doesn't stop the bigger problem. I'm a witch without a coven that can do some serious damage to whatever the coven has planned. They aren't going to stop until I'm no longer a problem."
She fell silent, and looked away from them all, sighing heavily once more. She was just bringing trouble... she didn't know what to do, anymore.</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
"I say let her do it. I mean, yeah, she did bring this whole shit down on us but it's not actually her fault those bitches are whack jobs. And she said it herself, she doesn't wanna be a witch anymore..." Claudia paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "I'd probably like her better if she did turn herself into one of us. And imagine. A wolf with magical powers. That means serious firepower," she grinned.
"This is the first time we'll be dealing with an unnatural wolf," Darric pointed out.
"Seriously. She's been yapping about how she knows her stuff. If I were her and I'm not sure what I'm doing, I wouldn't even suggest it," Claudia argued.
"Yeah, you would," Caius interjected dryly.
"Well, good thing she's not me then," Claudia laughed. "Anyway, I said my part. In the end, it all boils down to what you think, Cai."
Darric nodded.
"No, it all depends on what Callie wants to do," Caius said, looking at Callie. "If you want to do it then you'll have my support."
"Besides, if she goes rogue, we have the two halves of Fenrir here to control her, don't we?"</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
They didn't understand, but how could they? They didn't have much to do with magic, until now. How could she explain so that they would understand? "I think you misunderstand me- it wouldn't make me a werewolf, merely enable me to use my magic to shapeshift into a wolf for a time. I would still be a witch, but... if I could develop a spell I could hide my magical ability from others... " she sighed, and ran a hand through her hair with frustration as she sought the right words.
"It's an option and if it means I won't be a burden, well... I'd like to take it, but... it wouldn't be permanent. I don't have that kind of magic... that's old magic, lost magic. No, for it to be permanent it would need to be a bite." But she was not going to go there. "Does that make sense?"</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
But it was exactly where Claudia was going. As soon as the words were out of Callie's mouth, she looked pointedly at her brother.
"No. I know that look Claudia," Caius said.
Claudia laughed. "But you haven't even looked at me, Cai," she complained. "But seriously. THAT is the fastest and easiest way to make her one of us..." When Caius didn't respond, she shrugged and the expression on her face became serious. She looked at Darric. "Anyway, plans, right? We have to make sure those wretched shits don't get a shot like that at Caius again. I'm ready and willing to tear out their throats with your pack anytime, anywhere." She looked at Caius next. "Don't be stupid and getting in the way of spells like that again. God or not, you might not be as lucky next time. Especially since the humans we're up against aren't idiots. They would bring more firepower knowing that you somehow survived a spell that was supposed to kill you." She looked at Callie last. "You. I suggest you decide what you wanna do, turn yourself into one of us or not. It's up to you. Caius won't be making that decision for you. Either way, you're in this as much as we are. I'm not the most pleasant person to deal with but when it comes down to it, I'll make sure to protect you for my brother's sake."
And then it was Caius' turn to speak. He looked at Callie for a second before addressing their group, his voice as serious as Claudia's. "We'll need all the wolves for this. We'll have the young ones sit this one out. They're too impulsive, we would have to keep an eye on them and we need to focus on this fight." He turned to Callie again and spoke in a softer tone of voice. "Claudia is right, you'll have to decide what you wanna do. But meanwhile, we need information on how many witches are there and what kind of spells they'd throw at us."</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie clasped her hands in front of her, gripping them tightly as she listened to what was being said. Her own thoughts were a turmoil, and it was all she could do to not simply break down once more. She had to be strong. She couldn't be creating any more troubles for Caius and his pack, his family. She was the reason for all this...
If she had turned away, before he could have laid eyes on her, would this have ever happened? She had only seen that flash of what could be, that flash of the future... and while it had seemed perfect, if this was the result... if she was going to cause Caius pain... She might not understand Imprinting to it's fullest extent, but she had never felt like this about anyone. If she could make things easier for him, she would.
She met his gaze as he spoke to her, and hoped that her eyes didn't reveal just how close she was to crying. "We're better together... Apart, I'll be worrying about you, and you me. If using this spell is the only way to do it, so that you won't worry about me, than I will. All I know is I won't sit and wait to see if you'll come back to me." It was her choice... but to her, it was also his. It might not be permanent, but it was... intimate sort of thing. If she did it right, she'd share the pack's experience's as if she were truly one of them.
"As for the witches... well, traditionally a coven is anywhere from three witches on wards. There was 13 in my coven, beside's myself. But Angelina could very well have recruited other coven's by now, other witches. The type of spells, well, each witch has different strengths, but mostly spells are based around the elements. There are trapping, curses, jinx's.... it really just depends. I can give a demonstration of some spells I think they would use, and I can put protective charms around the pack." @Kyrisse</s>
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Caius reached out and grasped Callie's hand. As she was speaking, he squeezed her hand in assurance. After she was finished speaking, he leaned towards her and whispered into her ear. "We'll be okay as long as we're together. And we are now. So you can put your mind at rest." He sat back on his chair. "Let's make plans then." he started, his voice taking on a leader like tone. "We should have Callie demonstrate to us the spells we might be facing. Have all the wolves watch her moves, watch how she delivers the spell, observe every single movement she does. It could give us a clue of our opponents' movements."
Darric nodded in agreement. "Yes, I agree. I shall call every single wolf, including the young ones. Although they will not be fighting with us, we should all be ready. No exceptions."
Claudia nodded in agreement as well, her face serious just like the two other wolves in the room. "We should get to it as soon as we can. I doubt those witches would give us a lot of time to prepare. Hell, they might even attack tomorrow." She turned towards Callie. "Can you put up a protective spell around this area? Just something that would alert us if they come this way," she asked politely.
Caius wasn't finished. He turned towards Callie, a serious look on his face. "I need you to do something for me. I need you to hit me with all the spells that you know." He continued before she could even say anything. "I need to know how to evade and how to deal with it if I get hit."</s>
<|message|>Callie Lenson
Callie nodded, although she couldn't help but worry still. She bowed her head, before nodding once more. Demonstrating spells was something that she could do, but she did have one issue. "I... I don't know if I can do that, Caius. I'm not.... I don't want to hurt you." Even if he was resistance, the thought of hurting him just about broke her heart. "I'll try... " She said softly, not wanting to disappoint her.
She hesitated another moment before she took in a deep breath and spoke to the others. "I think its a mistake to not include the pups in the fighting. You'll leave them vulnerable to attack should the witches.... and its not just the witches, not anymore. It's the young vampire-witch hybrids. It's just my opinion, but I think it will be a mistake to leave them vulnerable and if you leave guards for them that will only weaken the pack. I... its just my opinion though."
Hurrying on, she turned to Claudia. "Yes, I can. I can put up a strong one, where ay supernatural creature will need my permission- or those of my family- whether blood or bonded- to cross. Or I can set up a weak one which will just alert me to their pressence."</s>
|
<|message|>Caius Aluredes
Darric nodded towards Callie. "Yes, I agree. The young ones should be trained to protect themselves. But they will not be in the heart of the battle. It would distract the more veteran fighters if our young are harmed." He turned towards the door of the cabin just as a knock echoed on it.
It was Claudia's turn to nod towards Callie. "A strong one please. We need all the time we can get to prepare..." her voice trailed off as her eyes fell on a tall, slender blonde female that walked past her and straight towards Caius.
"Caius, thank God you're safe. I traveled miles back here as soon as I heard," the newcomer said as she wrapped her arms around the younger of the twins. She promptly pressed a quick kiss on her lips and then began fussing over him, asking questions about what happened.
All Caius could really do was blink in surprise. And then he cleared his throat. "I'm okay, Hannah," he said, gently moving her arms off him. "My girlfriend was there to help."</s>
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<|description|>Ritske Seimger
Race:
Mutated Human (Slaneesh)
Appearance:
Ritske has... Minimalist armour to say the least. Whilst she normally relies on the stealth capabilities of her captured XV-85 to dodge fire, she does have reasonable armour, although nothing that will stop anything stronger than perhaps a few autogun shots. The armour appears in large, bulky plates, and covers most of her centre of mass and what she regards as 'important;' namely her legs and groin, with basically no protection on her arms; she thinks that if they can hit your arm, you're dead anyway 'cause you can't fight back. (She'd be singing a different tune if she had power armour, but alas, she doesn't.)
Her Stealthsuit has been repainted after she realised that colour doesn't matter; surprisingly for her, it was done rather carefully, and it now sports a black colouring, with a very pale red trim. On the shoulder is a running list of the number of people who have been killed whilst she has wore the gear, and currently the count stretches from the top of the shoulder to... The other end of the shoulder.
Beneath the armour is a young woman, measuring roughly 5'8, and with black hair that reaches down in braids to about her hip. These braids are practically never done up, even though it would be much more practical in the long run. She's very pale, almost ridiculously so, and just above the small of her back is the symbol of Slaneesh, permanently branded into her skin. Her eyes are a bright pink colour, a side effect of her dedication to Slaneesh, but she simply claims that she comes from a planet near Cadia, and that tends to deflect most attention away from her.
Apart from her armour, very little else adorns her during combat. When not in the XV25, she wears a bandolier that goes from her left shoulder to her right, and then loops around her waist like a belt. She wears a simple leather jacket, both to prevent her armour from chafing and to cover up the mark, and boots with wrapping going from her calf to almost her waist. As well as the bandolier, she wears a medi-sling, and in it is numerous auto-injectors and syringes, more gifts from Slaneesh.
Personality: Indulgent, over-the-top, hedonistic, should have overdosed by now. All these words tend to descriptive Slaneesh followers, and Ritske is no exception. Willing to try anything once, then twice, then become addicted to it, she has escaped being persecuted due to a frankly excellent combat record, and that her bloody huge weapons tend to dissuade the average civie.
Bio:
When first stepping out onto the board of a spaceship, Ritske was a fresh-faced mercenary with an autogun and some junked flak armour that she had made for herself, and with nary a trace of chaos in her blood. The story of how that girl became the Slaneeshi-worshipping mercenary with enough armaments to overthrow a small nation is, surprisingly, fairly simple.
It wasn't long before she was exposed to combat, specifically against the Tau, her warband being hired by a pocket Imperium in order to deal with a Sept that had settled too close to 'their' territory. She found that the thrill of combat, especially when enhanced by her being higher than a kite when doing so, was almost addictive, and hence the seeds of Slaneesh were planted in her mind.
She and her warband fought the Tau for numerous years; it was when fighting them that she gained her XV25, and she looted most of her weapons from other members, be they dead, asleep, 'preoccupied' with Riske herself or simply not paying attention, and her arsenal exploded in a very short period of time, leaving the sector the head of her warband, blessed by Slaneesh with his/her mark and eager to continue fighting.
What followed was her warband being slowly ground down as they fought more and more, sometimes against man and with xenos and chaos, and sometimes with it. Her arsenal, especially the more exotic elements of it, were all gathered in this time, and she arrived in the Gregorian Imperium without a warband, but certainly wealthy and eager to fight some more.
Gregori, spying the opportunity to grab another mercenary to secure his growing empire, capitalised on her eagerness to fight, and she ended up fighting, on the condition that Gregori himself wouldn't take notice of any of the more... Heretical parts of her personality.
Forces:
A coupe of whispers here, a couple of hand gestures there, and it's surprising how many of her ilk can come out of the woodwork. (General cultist help, if she's given enough time to get some together)
Allegiance to Gregori: She's a mercenary. Enough said.
Personal equipment:
x1 XV25 Stealth Suit (Modified to fit a human and repainted)
x1 Fusion blaster (Permanently attached to the suit, much to her dismay)
x1 Combat Shotgun with a folded stock and folding barrel, allowing her to pack it up into a tiny space. (Repainted)
x1 Catchcan Fang (Honestly, nobody really knows where she got this. Leather band around the hilt and handle, and two tassels hang down from it.)
x1 Autopistol (800 RPM, 50 round magazine and with the stock sawn off to leave a completely uncontrollable bullet hose. She absolutely adores the weapon)
x2 Hand cannons (Stupidly ornate finish, she's broken her wrists firing these two before, but they can take a man's head off in a single round if they actually land, so there's that.)
x1 Tesla pistol (Non-Necron and not her favourite weapon because of the long charge time between shots, but it is effective)
x1 'Big Daddy' (Ritske's custom heavy stubber/autogun. It's not really clear which one it is, due to it's ridiculously high RPM and spinning barrel, as well as a more traditional autogun design and even a single-shot option. Drum-fed (70 rounds) Can be attached to the XV25 if she so wishes.)
x? Close-combat weapons and generic las/shitty stubpistols. (Strapped everywhere she can fit them. Range in quality and size, but most of them will hurt like a motherfucker if she somehow lands the shot/stab.)
x? Stims & autoinjectors</s>
<|message|>Alexius Commenus
The Wandering Chronos, High Orbit of Arexia Prime
Alexius' personal battleship was a testament to the baroque and gothic styles of the old Imperium, a dark and imposing vessel, its vastness was as shrouded in mystery as the Ordo whose halls were within it. Nobody entered the vessel without Alexius knowing, or without his permission, though he was usually accommodating to those who asked his permission . . . to an extent.
Crew turn-over on the vessel was historically small, and most underwent a thorough vetting process and even internal investigations in some cases by the Ordo's Inquisitors. Those who were accepted had their whole families were brought aboard, the Chronos having plenty of room aboard for its repurposed owners and crew, and only a handful of people came and went. Supply Crews were outsourced and allowed entrance into the docking bays where personal crews took over, the personal visitors of Inquisitors came and went with their retinues, and black-armoured Stormtroopers and Servitors guarded and waited at the paths further into the ship's organs.
The same awaited at the teleport platform. Alexius kept the platform separate from the docking bays, but even closer security was kept, access was only granted by the acting Inquisitor aboard the ship, which had been granted to Captain Lattore prior to his arrival.
A robed Servitor politely bowed to the Captain, and proceeded to guide the Relictor Captain within the maze of the ship. The Captain would notice that he rarely crossed paths in the halls with more than a dozen people in the ten minutes they were walking. A few Stormtrooper patrols, the odd Servitor here or there, a couple young Interrogators in similar robes to the Servitors (these ones branded with the gold Insignia of the Inquisition circumposed on a top of a chronometer's face, the symbol of the Ordo), hurriedly moving through the halls on some errand for their masters, but otherwise not a soul.
The servitor finally stopped in front of a couple of elaborate doors, opening them by hand, they opened into a small square room with several leather seats, a small wooden table, elaborate rugs, and a banners of the Inquisition hanging from the walls. The table had a small glass bowl of simple sweets, a copy of the Lex Imperalis, and a pitcher of water with glasses besides it all neatly arranged. The rugs led towards a second set of doors at the opposite end of the room that looked just like the entrance.
Standing in the room was a man, dressed in a grey coat similar to Alexius' and an Inquisitorial Rosette hanging from his neck, but his age alone marking himself out as being much older than Alexius and having a hood rather than a hat, the hood was kept down revealing messy brown hair but a cleanly shaved face. He made the sign of the Aquila.
"Captain Lattore? Inquisitor Varius Malodrax of the Ordo Chronos, at your service. Master Alexius is currently indisposed, but we are aware of your meeting and so have brought you here for the moment. I am here to assist you with any questions or concerns you may have beforehand, and to ensure that you were actually received here adequately."
The servitor that had escorted Lattore quietly whirred out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him and leaving the towering Astartes Captain with the Inquisitor.
"Apologies on the Servitor. Normally such an occasion would have necessitated a . . . living escort . . . and normally persons such as myself would not traditionally be ones to attend visitors, but recent circumstances have compelled an overview of some of our less-privy personnel here and where their loyalties lie, and that a more personal hand is necessary of our Ordo. Rest assured that the matter is being attended to and should not disturb us here. Is there anything you require, Captain?"</s>
<|message|>Captain Leal Lettore
Leal followed the servitor through the ship, the dull thud of his steps surprisingly muted considering the weight of his power armor. He noticed what seemed to be a paucity of crew, but made no comments. Perhaps he would inquire about this later. For now, he mused over how strange it was to be aboard an Inquisition ship. The prevalent "I" shaped icon was standard throughout the ordos, even though each one gave it specific variance. The Ordo Chronos was no different. But to a Relictor, the inquisitorial icon was the mark of their hunters, mainly the Grey Knights. It was the symbol of their ignorant brethren and the guardians of the Imperium that had threatened them with death should they ever dare return. As the captain and the servitor stopped in front of the elaborate doors, Leal considered the symbolism of passing these gates.
Leal's blue eyes found the man in the grey coat, and he responded to the man's gesture by bringing his right fist across his chest. The left arm of course still held Leal's helm.
The captain replied matter-of-factly, "The reception was adequate."
The servitor left and Leal scanned the contents of the small wooden table. The Book of Law was fitting. He blinked in response to Varius' explanation. The circumstances were unusual, and Leal was indeed curious as to what exactly had happened on Alexius' ship.
Maintaining proper etiquette, he replied with a general truth. "Loyalty means nothing until it is tested. I understand that only the Inquisition can test its own. May the ordo be strengthened by your efforts.
As for what I require, there is nothing, yet I would ask that, in these moments while we await Inquisitor Commenus, you remain and speak to me about the Ordo Chronos. Tell me of the Imperium before the Final Ascension as you knew it. What have been your achievements in your study of time manipulation?" Leal smiled gently. He was afterall, human.</s>
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<|message|>Ritske Seimger
Ritske was quietly fuming at being ignored by a fucking servitor of all things, hurried behind the Inquistor, silently impressed by the ship. Hers, the Wandering Spear, was nowhere near as impressive as this gothic beast of a construction, and she was almost certain that the Spear would be blown out of space if this ship so much as turned a gun in her ship's general direction. She watched as the Inquisitor ahead of her was greeted by another member of the ship and politley waited, before quietly slipping next to him, and subsequently in the room with Alexis. She looked around as well, and knew that she would have to find out what happened her as fast as possible, taking a seat on a box near the wall and lighting up a lho stick as the Inquisitors nattered away to one another. If Alexis wanted to show disrespect to her, she would show it right back. Besides, the other bastard didn't need to hear what she said, and if she was right, she really, really, really didn't want him hearing what came next.</s>
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<|description|>Alexius Commenus
Race: Human
Appearance:
Personality: On the surface, Alexius is amicable, charismatic, and down to earth when talking to most people in public which makes him impressionable and likeable to most who meet him in passing or witness him. He exudes a confident aura that begets his perceived ability to keep control over a situation even if utter pandemonium is set to break loose, and his capacity for empathy is remarked as boundless.
In truth, while Alexius is all of those things, his bright exterior hides a schemer and manipulator of Byzantine depths. Very self-interested despite his mostly appearing to be selfless work, he leads a very two-faced persona to those who know him well. He takes relish in playing the long game when it comes to seeing his plans and maneuvers come to fruition rather than quick and brutal plots. An opportunist with a lot of patience, Alexius hides his calculating and ambitious interior beneath a mask of a persona that claims to hold the interests of others first.
Despite all this, he is mostly honest to his friends and allies who have done by him, in these particularly unsettled times, he merely views himself as in being realistic rather than malicious.
Bio: Alexius Commenus was born the son of Inquisitor Stefanos Commenus, member of the Ordo Chronos aboard the Errant Cohort fleet, where he has spent most of his life like others born to members of the Ordo, grooming to take over their elder's position and carry on their new objective to help mankind survive in this new age of strife.
Once many millennia ago, the Ordo Chronos was an Ordo Minoris of the Imperial Inquisition devoted to investigating and understanding the effects of time manipulation on the Warp, endeavours which led to the entire Ordo's mysterious disappearance. Now since their reappearance, strangely coinciding with the rapid decline of the galaxy's conditions, they returned to a shattered Imperium and chaotic galaxy. Keeping themselves hidden especially from their former over-arching organization, its original members used their (at the time) still formidable standing as Inquisitors to re-acquaint themselves with their time period, and began deliberating over what course of action they should take in light of recent events. Many disagreed over specifics, but all agreed that they could not stand idly by while the Imperium crumbled and humanity was slowly consumed by this "New Devourer" and the platitude of other foes that had arose, resurgent. To this end, they worked quickly to utilize their still formidable status to overtake command of the nearest Imperial Battlefleet, Thanatos, to use for their own ends.
Sending out calls on all frequencies to Imperial vessels and worlds, they called out their intent: to leave in search of a place to gather humanity and re-organize the crumbling Imperium once again. Many did not heed their calls at first, but more and more would over the centuries as the fleet, berift of long-distance Warp travel, slowly cruised from system to system. The Ordo's members passed on their positions, titles, knowledge, and skills to either direct or adopted descendants as they died, keeping the inner command circle within the fleet alive so as to keep the fleet from disintegrating and on course with their self-appointed mission.
Some systems they found were peaceful and would remain there for a time, most were in various states of chaos and war with some foe or another. Though the fleet on occasion took part in some battles, it mostly kept to itself, continuing on its course, keeping up its calls, and growingly larger with each system it went through.
By Alexius' time, many changes had occurred within the Ordo and within the fleet. For one thing, Radicalism had become the dominant ideology for the first time within the Ordo's members, which had staunchly been mostly Puritan for ages, but had slowly begun to become more and more radical as time wore on and circumstances became more dire. Such circumstances were the ever-present problem of maintaining and supplying the now enormous fleet as it traversed massive expanses of space, the light of the Astronomicon long-since dead and nobody crazy enough to jump into the Warp. Many among them knew the advantages Xenos and their technology could lend to their struggle, or understood the pragmatism behind the need to not having any scruples about raiding and plundering worlds of any kind resources for the survival of the fleet. The Puritan bloc had always staunchly opposed such ideas, keeping to the old Imperial values of faith, perseverance, and trust in humanity alone to overcome any obstacle. Cynicism grew like a tree within such an atmosphere over time though, and Alexius now saw his opportunity to not only gain power for himself within the Ordo, but to take the fleet into a whole new direction.
The old master of the Ordo had died, and it was now left to the surviving members to choose a successor from amongst themselves. Although all members of the Ordo had equal say, the Master was often the one in the position to make the final call on matters and was the public singular voice of the Fleet's administration, so choosing the right one was key. Alexius, though he was young by Ordo member standards, and had only recently obtained the position of Inquisitor from his father's passing, had developed a very powerful oratory rhetoric and capacity for debate and speechcraft. He practically danced circles around many of the Puritans with how he argued their beliefs were obsolete and not only hurting the Fleet and its denizens, but the very Ordo itself through their stagnation. His persuasiveness was such that he managed to pull off a victory, and became the youngest Master of the Ordo Chronos in its history.
With the power of the fleet effectively his and most of the Ordo behind him, Alexius wasted no time, he began effecting new fleet-wide policies towards the treatment of Xenos and Xenos tech, as well as the study of some of the previously "forbidden" subjects under past administrations. The Puritans raised an uproar, but Ordo and even popular support among the need for change within the fleet was so great that they were forced to quell their rage, though talk of civil war was abound within the ships. To this end, Alexius "arranged" the removal of many of his more chief detractors, not immediately, and never so boldly as to pronounce open warfare, but slowly, over years and years when most people wouldn't care to notice for connections, there was an exploded reactor here, an apparent suicide via overdose there, a death on diplomatic mission there, one by one, Alexius slowly removed his opponents all while appearing completely grief-stricken by their sudden deaths. And with each one, he got bolder and bolder with his plans. By that time, those that still remained who doubted his rule were cowed into silence and bitter submission.
Eventually, Xenos were allowed to enter the fleet just as much as any humans so long as their abided by the laws of the Ordo, kept the peace, and contributed to the betterment of the fleet as a whole in whatever way they could. The fleet also became more active in systems they arrived in, picking and choosing targets to aid, targets to plunder, and targets to avoid and coordinated on a massive scale to get the most out of systems they could before cutting their losses and moving on. With the help of the combined genius of various human and alien minds, and through these new pragmatic policies the fleet gained a fresh wind of vitalizing energy, though their quest for a new home was still not closer to fruition.
Then came the Cohort's arrival in Gregori Imperium space. Unlike almost all the previous systems they had entered over the decades, which were either lifeless or in some state of hostility, this one was one which seemed to have a semblance of order to it, and that changed the whole picture for Alexius, the Ordo, and the Errant Cohort.
Forces: The Errant Cohort, a rag-tag fleet of ships gathered from dozens of different systems which the Cohort has passed through over the centuries it has drifted through space. Though at its base is a set of Imperial Naval Vessels that once went under the name Battlefleet Thanatos, its numbers also include numerous civilian and trader vessels, and several notable Xenos ships, 200 make up the fleet, half of which are outfitted for battle. The Battleship Wandering Chronos is Alexius' mobile home and is the largest vessel in the fleet. Hard estimates on the numbers of people, both Human and Xenos, that populate the fleet are dicy, but it is estimated that there are several billion souls that call the fleet home. Millions stand ready as troops and battle-ready vessels from so many far flung nooks of the galaxy, though their lack of uniformity does in many cases lead to a lack of discipline or order which the Ordo Chronos seeks to keep a handle on.
The Ordo Chronos, effectively having become Alexius' Lieutenants since he became Master of the small Ordo, they work to instill his will upon the Fleet and to carry out his wishes. Twenty make up the Ordo's current official membership as Inquisitors or Lord Inquisitors not counting Master Alexius, with almost all of them having Interrogator apprentices (but they have no say in the direction of the Ordo).
Allegiance to Gregori: Currently, the two are partners and their forces allied under Gregori's banner, though their partnership remains mostly untested. The two have equal respect and wariness of each other and their capabilities, having overcome obstacles of equal calibre to become leaders in their own rights. Neither truly trust each other yet, but common interests and goals which they can both compliment help make the relations more stable.
Personal equipment:
-A Lamark Thousander Model Revolver
-Three Digital Weapons Rings (Needle, Flamer, and Las)
-Emperor's Tarot Deck
-Force Sword
-Carapace armour</s>
<|message|>Alexius Commenus
Inquisitor Alexius stood back, watching the others who had followed in their fleets enter and watch the Emperor lay out the transmission and his thoughts on the matter. He silently steepled his fingers and paced over to the window to peer out at the embattled Forge-World. After arranging his thoughts and seeing that Amastov had finished reading the data slate Lord Corbec had handed him, he gave his views on the matter.
"The Magos Dominus must think we're fools, or his age and augmentations have removed something of his practical senses if he thinks only ten armed men are an adequate escort for an Emperor in the heart of a Forge-Moon, no disrespect to the abilities of our forces, but not even the best tactician among us would disagree that serving up the majority of our commanders and leaders up, basically on a platter just begging for us to be taken captive is a ridiculous notion.
He desires leverage, assurances that we are not here to harm him and his machines, but most of all that we're not here to take the power and authority he and his people have away. If he cannot obtain it through negotiation, he will obtain it with hostages.
I do not believe it wise to have the Emperor himself at risk to becoming a hostage, unless his Imperial Majesty is adamant about going. But I wouldn't, not until our forces have established a beach head and would be ready to move in the event of treachery. Last I checked, his forces were the ones on the verge of losing their world, we come to assist them, if they did not see that by the fact we haven't already begun bombarding the Moon and blew their attackers' fleet into scrap, then something must be up with their logic engines.
Just my thoughts on the matter, in any case I volunteer to be the fifth candidate, since they made no mention of a representative of the Imperial Inquisition among the delegation."</s>
<|message|>Gabriel Corbec
As Gabriel listened to the transmission from the Magos he couldn't help but grimace. The amount of leadership that would be one place would be crippling if someone managed to get to them. But on the other hand the Imperium needed this Forge Moon which would mean going along with what the Magos wanted. Add Chaos into the mix and it made this situation even more dangerous. When Gabriel heard the suggestion of deploying troops he already had thoughts of how he would accomplish it, but there were complications in the way.
"My Emperor, as much as I would want to deploy our soldiers down onto the Forge Moon we will not be able to. Not until the Magos gives us permission. If he is anything like the Magi of the Old Imperium then he will not take to kindly to us landing troops on his planet without his permission. As unfortunate as it is we may have to go along with the Magos's request. If we do I volunteer to go down as the military coordinator."
As Gabriel spoke an aide came in and delivered a datapad to him. As he read through it he scowled.
"My Emperor. I have found the location of Captain Lattore. He is currently down on the surface of the Forge Moon with most of his chapter. Also of note Lord Karthis decided to transmit a message to the Chaos fleet on all vox channels, giving up any hope of surprise that we might have had. Both were done without any orders. I would recommend that both be disciplined after the Forge Moon has been taken."</s>
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<|message|>Alexius Commenus
Inquisitor Alexius turned to Lord Corbec as he relayed the locations of Captain Lattore's forces and those of Lord Karthis, a man who he had yet to meet, but had heard of his Hulk's reception by Emperor Gregori.
"Fret not about such matters Lord-Militant, this whole operation is a test for the Relictor Chapter in the eyes of the Inquisition. At present, I do fault the Captain for forgoing the chain of command, but applaud his efforts to not giving the Archenemy an easy time adjusting to our entrance. The reason as to why, we shall have to obtain from him after, in the meantime, we should make the most of his entrance. Any further insult to the Magos cannot be helped in that regard, Lattore's brothers are giving their lives to take back his Forge-World as we speak, if the Tech-Priests prefer to have their own Skitarii and who knows what else they have within their forces take the wounds for them, he's more than welcome to tell us.
As for Lord Karthis, indeed one could see his actions as either exceedingly foolish at best, or outright treacherous at worst. Considering our current relation to him, I favour the former explanation, but indeed, there shall be a reckoning once we've concluded our operations here."</s>
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<|description|>K'Vari
Race: Stryxis
Appearance:
Among his own species, K'Vari would be considered passably handsome. Humans would be hard-pressed to tell the difference, however, as all Stryxis are disgusting to their perceptions. He is short, standing at but 1.4 m, and his skin is pale and membranous. His face is like that of a pug, with an upturned nose reminiscent of a pitbull and beady black eyes. His teeth are thick, blunt and yellowed, making grins disconcerting. He has no ears, merely small holes in the side of his head covered by a thin membrance for hearing. Usually K'Vari can be seen covered in a long brown robe from which he hangs trinkets, ranging from Eldar statuettes to a Space Marine bolt shell, an odd habit which to the Stryxis seems to indicate wealth.
Personality:
Everybody has a need for something, and K'Vari has something for everybody. He is an eager but cautious trader, knowing that while chaos and hopelessness often bring great chances for trade, they also bring great risk. The harsh circumstances of the galaxy at the moment have forced a certain ruthlessness that was previously rare among his species, but this is just one of the traits that makes K'Vari one of the only among his species still willing to interact with the shambles of the Imperium. Second among such traits is his ambition, as he plans to take all he can from this world like a vulture, and maybe retire by taking over some small mini-Imperium in a relatively quiet corner of this warring galaxy.
Bio:
After the Imperium began to dissolve the Stryxis saw opportunity. They moved in and traded with the suddenly desperate border worlds, granting them what they needed to become independent of outside produce at great cost, and great profit. But as the years went by profit was overshadowed by risk as new forces came into play. Dozens of small xenos empires began dividing up and conquering the Imperium, and worse the Imperium began killing itself from the inside. The parts that weren't being slaughtered by Chaos or devoured by the Tyrannid swarm, that is. Most of the Stryxis moved away from the Imperium, trading with other species along the Galaxy's border. K'Vari is now perhaps the last of his species within what was once Imperium space.
He leads a group known only as the Caravan, a trading caravan of well-protected ships who move from system to system, trading goods with the many warring factions of the Imperium. At full force they could easily ward off the many dangers of the chaotic fallen Imperium, but they were eventually caught by a host of Black Templar crusaders. The battle was great but eventually the Caravan was victorious, although at immense losses. Even after scavenging all that could be taken from the Imperial Battle Barge and the remains of the Imperial Escort Ships they lacked the power to properly continue their journey without worrying for their safety. Encountering a group of Daemon, Chaos Marines or Pirates could wipe out their remaining force.
Calling upon his knowledge of the feuding factions within this particular area of space K'Vari made his way over to Gregori's little empire, offering trade and dealings. While it was possible Gregori might simply have ransacked the Caravan for all it had he lacked the overwhelming power to do so with impunity, and K'Vari would have destroyed anything of value long before he got to it. As such the Caravan became a semi-permanent fixture within Gregori's domain, trading and dealing with the locals as K'Vari sought to rebuild his forces.
Forces:
In this age hired muscle is easy to come across, and K'Vari isn't picky. He does, however, have a certain eye for talent, which has contributed to his survival up until now. While he doesn't broadcast the number and quality of his troops it's no secret that he has a decent number of (ab)human mercenaries, with simple armour and las weaponry. More imposing are the large and featureless Vat-Brutes, homebuilt killing machines without conscience and unswerving in their loyalty. Rumour also has it that K'Vari employs a variety of specialists to deal with trouble makers, although their exact form is unknown. But there have been rumours of monsters devouring those who get on the bad side of this cunning trader.
Allegiance to Gregori: Trade partner
Personal equipment:
Certainly K'Kari avoids personally getting involved in conflict whenever possible, but in case it cannot be avoided he wields an odd scepter topped by writhing biomechanical tentacles. Merely pointing at someone with this and activating it in some way causes a beam of green energy to shoot out and engulf the target, usually disintegrating them. Only quite powerful armour can halt this lethal beam. He also carries an Eather Blade, a small dagger of transparent material possessing the ability to pass through armour without touching or disturbing it, and yet cut the person underneath. He is however an unaccomplished fighter, lacking the skills to put such weapons to proper use, and usually relies on a personal forcefield similar to that projected by a Rosarius or Iron Halo.</s>
<|message|>Alexius Commenus
Alexius' brow furrowed for a second at Ritsuke' remarks before resuming their normal posture in a quiet gesture of understanding, he smiled gently at her from his seat. He reminded himself to do a thorough check of his ship when he got back, he was not surprised to find that there were leaks in his attempt at an air-tight vessel of a ship that was his own, but obviously he had grown lax if she had managed to find out even this fragment of private discussion among his Ordo.
"By all means, Lady Ritske. Like the good Captain Lattore, you're welcome to meet me aboard The Wandering Chronos as soon as I return."</s>
<|message|>Captain Leal Lettore
- Captain Leal Lattore-
Leal watched as Ishitta and her entourage stormed toward their lander. The Cannoness and her sisters were strong headed, a trait that Leal found to be perpetuated by this ambiguity that was religion. Certainly blind faith had its risks, but there was nothing heretical about mere love for the Emperor itself. Leal himself practiced meditation and had chanted the mantras of the space marines as oft as anyone of them. Perhaps was his form of prayer. Still, regardless of how worshipful he may have felt at times, he preferred to remain practical and grounded. The Emperor had been material, not a god, and although he had been exorbitantly powerful, even He was limited, as had been unfortunately proven by his final death. It was merely a human flaw to stretch perception into fantasy, to think the Emperor had been a God, although when it came to the warp, unbelievable things were possible. Leal considered how well founded the sisters beliefs were when ascribed to the new emperor. There were certainly no gods here now, yet she defended him like one. Sadly, Leal decided that Ishitta had displaced her devotion in her grief, like so many others would, yet he did not know what should be done about this.
On that heavy note, Leal progressed to leave, but was halted again by Alexius' call. He turned, then bowed cordially. It seemed ages in exile hadn't tarnished his mannors. Captain Lattore readily gave a confidant reply, "It shall be as you command, Inquisitor. I would be most humbled and honored to convene with you. I will teleport aboard shortly." The grey-clad space marine seemed strangely, almost eager to hold this audience with the time-warped remnants of the original Inquisition. Alexius felt a faint psychic echo of something... vengeful? A test of wills? The exact details of this distant memory were uncertain, but it seemed to come from Lattore.
Aboard the Imperium Immemoriam, the captain discoursed with his marines. Being commanded by simple, unaltered humans was easily accepted as all good and just as intended by the Emperor originally. Referring to someone else as emperor was a bit of a stretch, but stretch it did as Leal explained the logic in it. "It is simply the way it must be. It is how the Imperium of Man has always functioned. Emperor Amastov is obviously not THE Emperor, and there is a council before him. He is neither a blasphemous impersonator nor a warped tyrant, but a sole hero bravely uniting our shattered elements under our own flag. He needs our loyalty, the Imperium needs our loyalty..."
And so it was the best of speeches he could muster, full of hope and inspiration. The Relictors were for the most part in agreement. Belief in the cause was important for morale on the battlefield, and Leal was determined to maintain that.
The daemonweapons, all except the captain's, were locked away on the starfort to limit their malific influence until they would inevitably be needed again. Leal's weapon however, was of a different character, a polar-opposite psychic energy. He specifically intended to take it with him aboard the Wandering Chronos.
Not too long after orders on the Starfort were given, Leal teleported over to the Inquisitor's battleship. Blackness and blue lights washed over his vision to reveal the boarding platform where Leal hailed Alexius' men. He came alone, the strange relicblade quiet by his side adorned with delicate silver chains and wrapped with several reels of prayer scripts. The irony being of course that they were a mere formality. The angel blade was actually unaffected. Lifting his gauntlets aside his head, Leal removed his helm, revealing a light-skinned man with long, silver hair and cold blue eyes. He looked young for an old man, which was strange to say the least. It seemed that the shear strength of his spirit alone was keeping him in such vibrant condition, like death itself had refused to touch him until his force of will backed off first. "I am here for Inquisitor Commenus."</s>
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<|message|>K'Vari
- K'Vari, Saint's Chariot -
Nodding, K'Vari accepted the self-proclaimed Emperor's statement. Unfortunately he had not been able to draw more of a reaction from him, but from what he had seen of the faces in the room, many of Gregori's subcommanders had realized the value of his little contribution. His price would be steep, but they would pay it, knowing what it could deliver to them. And when he had his foot in the door he would begin making the changes he saw fit to make, and removing those who got in his way. When he was done here he would have hoarded every last scrap of value in this place, and made a lot of enemies. When he set out he planned to move with the largest caravan he had acquired yet, laden with goods and trinkets and little technological secrets, a vast treasure hoard which would also provide him with the means to build up a trade empire, one greater in both scope and purpose than these petty little Miniperiums spread across the galaxy like a handful of acorns.
But first, to consolidate his position. With a little bow and a wave at his two inhuman bodyguards he set off, marching through the double doors and to the looted Thunderhawk that had brought him on board. Within moments he was off, not bothering to overhear the conversation that would follow his departure as he was already engrossed in matters of intrigue. There were three primary fronts he needed to work on.
First, he would need to gain manpower. This could be relatively easily achieved by enslaving the less savoury sorts on Gregori's captured Hive Worlds. While there was no doubt Gregori would notice, as long as he didn't touch the more respectable citizens there was nothing much that could be done about it. K'Vari would simply deny all accusations, and Gregori didn't have the manpower to spare on better policing, not while preparing for such an important invasion. And even if he should step up security, K'Vari could just take people from different worlds. Already this fledgeling little Imperium was running into the problems of their predecessor, spread too thin to properly police each individual planet.
Secondly, he would need to cultivate allies. First among them would be the mercenary, whom's loyalty could be bought. Second would be the mysterious Eldar, who would not doubt catch on to K'Vari pretty much instantly. Third would be either the Space Marine Relictors Captain, or the self-centred violent Inquisitor. He couldn't be certain of acquiring their loyalty, but at least one of them would prove pliable in one way or another. Having now arrived on his own ship the Star Breaker, a stolen Space Marine battle barge, he wandered through the halls shouting orders at the wide variety of slaves and meat loyally awaiting his commands. He would set his plans in motion now, and eliminate any resistance even before it could occur.
Through a series of highly guarded corridors he marched, passing dozens of his most dangerous creations. Powerful warriors armed with a variety of equally lethal weaponry, ranging from several Bolters to an Eldar Shuriken Canon. This space was completely off-limits, and any who attempted to win entrance by means of force or stealth would find themselves facing nearly impossible odds. The ship itself accepted to vessels other than those personally authorised by K'Vari, an authorisation that was practically impossible to fake. It also used advanced Stryxis anti-auger technology to be practically invisible to sensors, although obvious to the naked eye, making it untargetable for most long-ranged attacks and hard to keep track of. Such and many more security measures guarded what might be the cunning trader's greatest treasure trove of secrets and technology. Those slaves that served him here would live out their lives here, bound by extensive chemical therapy and augmentation to his will, for one in five of the secrets on their lips would have him killed instantly.
Opening a large reinforced door and deactivating a multi-layered forcefield with a variety of codes and tests, K'Vari made his way into one of the highly advanced fleshcrafting stations spread throughout this ship. The mysterious arcane science facilities in which his kind forged their own, custom-built warriors. As a Master Fleshcrafter he was one of the greatest Stryxis in the galaxy when it came to this art, and his biowarriors certainly reflected this expertise. But what lay before him was certainly one of his favoured projects, a challenge that he had been engrossed in since the very day he had arrived in this foreign little corner of the Imperium. And now it was done, ready to be deployed as he saw fit. His very greatest, or very worst, gambit.
Floating in the green pod, covered in tubes and measurement apparatus, lay the exact likeness of Gregori Amastov, the Emperor of the Imperium Reborn, and K'Vari's most valued trade partner.
"Yes, this will most certainly do. My child, when you waken, I will give you a life of glory indeed." With a chuckle K'Vari looked over the biped's body, ready for the final adjustments to be made, hundreds of twisted schemes and plans swimming through his mind.</s>
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<|description|>K'Vari
Race: Stryxis
Appearance:
Among his own species, K'Vari would be considered passably handsome. Humans would be hard-pressed to tell the difference, however, as all Stryxis are disgusting to their perceptions. He is short, standing at but 1.4 m, and his skin is pale and membranous. His face is like that of a pug, with an upturned nose reminiscent of a pitbull and beady black eyes. His teeth are thick, blunt and yellowed, making grins disconcerting. He has no ears, merely small holes in the side of his head covered by a thin membrance for hearing. Usually K'Vari can be seen covered in a long brown robe from which he hangs trinkets, ranging from Eldar statuettes to a Space Marine bolt shell, an odd habit which to the Stryxis seems to indicate wealth.
Personality:
Everybody has a need for something, and K'Vari has something for everybody. He is an eager but cautious trader, knowing that while chaos and hopelessness often bring great chances for trade, they also bring great risk. The harsh circumstances of the galaxy at the moment have forced a certain ruthlessness that was previously rare among his species, but this is just one of the traits that makes K'Vari one of the only among his species still willing to interact with the shambles of the Imperium. Second among such traits is his ambition, as he plans to take all he can from this world like a vulture, and maybe retire by taking over some small mini-Imperium in a relatively quiet corner of this warring galaxy.
Bio:
After the Imperium began to dissolve the Stryxis saw opportunity. They moved in and traded with the suddenly desperate border worlds, granting them what they needed to become independent of outside produce at great cost, and great profit. But as the years went by profit was overshadowed by risk as new forces came into play. Dozens of small xenos empires began dividing up and conquering the Imperium, and worse the Imperium began killing itself from the inside. The parts that weren't being slaughtered by Chaos or devoured by the Tyrannid swarm, that is. Most of the Stryxis moved away from the Imperium, trading with other species along the Galaxy's border. K'Vari is now perhaps the last of his species within what was once Imperium space.
He leads a group known only as the Caravan, a trading caravan of well-protected ships who move from system to system, trading goods with the many warring factions of the Imperium. At full force they could easily ward off the many dangers of the chaotic fallen Imperium, but they were eventually caught by a host of Black Templar crusaders. The battle was great but eventually the Caravan was victorious, although at immense losses. Even after scavenging all that could be taken from the Imperial Battle Barge and the remains of the Imperial Escort Ships they lacked the power to properly continue their journey without worrying for their safety. Encountering a group of Daemon, Chaos Marines or Pirates could wipe out their remaining force.
Calling upon his knowledge of the feuding factions within this particular area of space K'Vari made his way over to Gregori's little empire, offering trade and dealings. While it was possible Gregori might simply have ransacked the Caravan for all it had he lacked the overwhelming power to do so with impunity, and K'Vari would have destroyed anything of value long before he got to it. As such the Caravan became a semi-permanent fixture within Gregori's domain, trading and dealing with the locals as K'Vari sought to rebuild his forces.
Forces:
In this age hired muscle is easy to come across, and K'Vari isn't picky. He does, however, have a certain eye for talent, which has contributed to his survival up until now. While he doesn't broadcast the number and quality of his troops it's no secret that he has a decent number of (ab)human mercenaries, with simple armour and las weaponry. More imposing are the large and featureless Vat-Brutes, homebuilt killing machines without conscience and unswerving in their loyalty. Rumour also has it that K'Vari employs a variety of specialists to deal with trouble makers, although their exact form is unknown. But there have been rumours of monsters devouring those who get on the bad side of this cunning trader.
Allegiance to Gregori: Trade partner
Personal equipment:
Certainly K'Kari avoids personally getting involved in conflict whenever possible, but in case it cannot be avoided he wields an odd scepter topped by writhing biomechanical tentacles. Merely pointing at someone with this and activating it in some way causes a beam of green energy to shoot out and engulf the target, usually disintegrating them. Only quite powerful armour can halt this lethal beam. He also carries an Eather Blade, a small dagger of transparent material possessing the ability to pass through armour without touching or disturbing it, and yet cut the person underneath. He is however an unaccomplished fighter, lacking the skills to put such weapons to proper use, and usually relies on a personal forcefield similar to that projected by a Rosarius or Iron Halo.</s>
<|message|>Ritske Seimger
Ritske was quietly fuming at being ignored by a fucking servitor of all things, hurried behind the Inquistor, silently impressed by the ship. Hers, the Wandering Spear, was nowhere near as impressive as this gothic beast of a construction, and she was almost certain that the Spear would be blown out of space if this ship so much as turned a gun in her ship's general direction. She watched as the Inquisitor ahead of her was greeted by another member of the ship and politley waited, before quietly slipping next to him, and subsequently in the room with Alexis. She looked around as well, and knew that she would have to find out what happened her as fast as possible, taking a seat on a box near the wall and lighting up a lho stick as the Inquisitors nattered away to one another. If Alexis wanted to show disrespect to her, she would show it right back. Besides, the other bastard didn't need to hear what she said, and if she was right, she really, really, really didn't want him hearing what came next.</s>
<|message|>Alexius Commenus
Inquisitor Varius steppled his fingers together and walked over to pour himself a glass of water, talking as he did.
"Curiosity, an uncommon trait in an Astartes outside of the arts of war. I'll indulge in what I know. Our Ordo was honestly, nothing of significance prior to current circumstances. We were a Ordo Minoris of the Inquisition, tasked with investigating and studying the effects of time manipulation on the Warp. I don't know how or what specifically happened, but our entire Ordo jumped forward in time by many millennia and found ourselves in a crumbling Imperium with foes new and old. That was many centuries ago though, I, and everyone else in the Ordo Chronos are merely descendants of those original time travellers, who trained the next generation of Inquisitors from their own progeny or via adoption into the Ordo, just as we do now to carry on their legacy and teachings. Any rumours of us individuals specifically being shadows out of time left by an Imperium write bold on history have been greatly exaggerated. Not that Alexius cares much to dispel such rumours. He believes . . . they are beneficial to us even though they aren't entirely true. I can speak much of what we have recorded on the Imperium before our ancestors' transition, as they knew it. We took great care to record it for their own legacy as much as ours."
He took a long draught of his drink before walking back, his glass still in hand.
"As for such matters as those Captain, as much as they may be intriguing conversation, I regret that only Master Alexius is able to grant liberty to speak on the matters of what our Ordo studies . . . especially in regards to our more "long-term" studies. You must understand that the power such knowledge holds is not only merely one of raw strength and power, but of will and faith as well. And blessed is the mind too small for doubt . . . Perhaps he will deign to discuss such things with you himself, but what I can tell you is that it has become an incredibly more fickle and difficult thing to study at the present compared to in the past, due to the general state of the Warp, let alone our current status. We've actually set about other priorities as our main focuses for now, particularly with trying to regain our status and position as the new foundation of the Inquisition in this Imperium Reborn."
Inquisitor Varius was surprised to see the mercenary Ritske slip in moments behind Captain Lattore without a servitor escort. The fact that it meant she had merely followed Lattore and his escort through the ship from the teleport to him raised some very serious concerns he'd have to give to Alexius later . . . on top of the other concerns with the fleet. Not to mention the fact it was an embarrassment for the Ordo that could play out badly if not handled carefully, and Alexius would not tolerate being embarrassed by his own Ordo when he got back, not even to a mercenary.
Varius promptly turned to address the Mercenary as she was causally smoking after he finished his initial replies to Lattore's curious questions.
"Lady Ritske, Inquisitor Varius Malodrax, I apologize to you too at the lack of a proper escort. As I was telling the good captain, internal problems are causing some hiccups in the system, so to speak. All the same, I am to attend you both until Master Alexius returns and he can receive you. Is there anything you desire? Or have you any concerns or questions you'd care to discuss here?"</s>
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<|message|>K'Vari
- K'Vari, Star Breaker -
Ritske would soon be loyal to K'Vari. With the measures he had placed she would join him, either by choice or by force. It would be far more pleasant for her if she chose the former. The means he had in place allowed him to apply a most unpleasant sort of pleasure, and one that would not accept refusal.
The Eldar would soon be dead or enslaved. Either by Gregori's order or by his own volition the peacekeeper would investigate K'Vari, either directly on his ships or indirectly via the Obsidian Crusade. On his own he would certainly be quite competent, even with the security K'Vari kept, but little did the little assassin know that the hunter had become the hunted. A specialised death squad awaited the right moment, a group that would be defeated by neither stealth nor skill. He would be nothing more than an unfortunate casualty at worst, or at best an excuse for K'Vari to demand reparation from Gregori.
The main forces of the Imperium Reborn were compromised. They were oblivious, spread out, and the Obsidian Crusade would wipe out the forces on their homeworld if necessary. A group of uncoordinated rebels would be swiftly dealt with. An army of highly trained men with nothing to lose, armed and armoured in the very best K'Vari had to offer, would not be so easily dispatched. Should it be necessary he could with relative ease capture this planet's strategic resources, to hold it hostage. Should Gregori personally be present on the planet it would be fairly easy to send the entire little Imperium into anarchy with one well-timed coup.
The remaining problems were as such. The Ordo Chronos, the Adeptas Sororitas, the Relictors, the dual Inquisitors, and the Adeptus Astartes of the Space Wolves and Black Dragons chapters. Each of those groups formed a potential threat and obstacle, and each would need to be dealt with in turn. Once he had most of these factions in hand, he would possess domination over the Imperium Reborn. While he could not replace Gregori, he could at least play the strings behind the scenes.
Now he would need to deal with the most pressing matter. He was at his most powerful while the main forces of the Imperium were distracted, so he would need to ensure they stayed distracted. And that distraction could easily work in his favour. So Gregori wished to have this forge world? That was a motive that could be exploited. This Forge World would become the distraction K'Vari needed, so that he could strew the string of his webs until he had bound the entire Imperium to his will.
With a great burst of crackling energy, an immense hole in reality seemed to pop into being. Warp Stuff attempted to pour into the materium as the Battle Barge slowly moved into the Empyrean. Within moments he would be gone, sailing on the tides of the warp as if they were merely stormy water. Far above the primitive human warp technology, K'Vari had no need for navigators or an Astronomican. It was both his Stryxis heritage and his technological knowledge that allowed him to navigate the Warp with such ease. He could move from system to system with a casual mobility that was surpassed only by the warlike Biel-Tan Eldar. Within moments K'Vari would arrive at his destination, the very forge world that Gregori sought to incorporate into his realm. With just as thunderous a spectacle the ship emerged from the Warp, sending out coded signals to the inhabitants of this system.
This would not be the first time he had come here to trade. Where there was war, there was profit, and with war erupting across the galaxy, K'Vari was a very well-travelled creature. Those that dwelled here despised him, but knew his prices, if not fair, were worth it. All sides received his attention as his ship moved from place to place. Weapons, soldiers, assistance.... traps. Those previously ill-equipped and weary were revitalised as K'Vari gave out discounts like it was Christmas, all the while bleeding the world dry for those things his most generous ally would have valued. The Forge World itself was unfortunately not a prize to be traded away, even against K'Vari's considerable arsenal of goods, but he had done what needed doing. Those who fought here were equipped with a blueprint for a mass-producible Bolter variant, a smaller design of the sort often favoured by Inquisitors and Rogue Traders, not requiring the superhuman strength of the Angels of Death to wield. With the ability to construct such weapons they would form far more formidable enemies. More dangerous yet were the rumours and secrets he sold freely, truth and lie mixed equally, of enemies lying in wait and forces waiting just beyond the edge of the system. Incursions of Chaos, small Imperiums, the New Devourer reborn.... it didn't matter what enemy they feared. What mattered is that they holed up, and prepared their weapons. Gregori would find his enemies prepared and ready.
Of course, K'Vari also set several traps beyond the understanding of those he sold them to. Foremost among them was a rare item from across the galaxy, sold as a relic of great power and placed as a trap upon the surface of the Forge World itself. Insurance, to make sure that matters here did not progress too far, and Gregori did not retrieve his prize too easily. He needed to make sure that this Forge World was won at the cost of blood and pain, and that his honoured trading partner would return victorious only at great cost. The more he needed, the more K'Vari could provide, and the more influence he gained. And it would certainly help if some of those forces within Gregori's little council managed to get themselves eliminated in the struggle.
His business concluded K'Vari once more left, his ship moving through the Warp back to it's original position. There was no doubt that his little excursion had been noticed, although those at home base would know little more than that his ship had warped out. There was no way of telling where he had been or what business he had conducted, and he responded to Vox-transmitted demands only with the scan reassurance that he had merely gone on a trading expedition.
This was but the third in a long series of schemes for which he was laying the groundwork. For even as K'Vari himself went about his business on another world, his agents were securing another of his devious goals. Next up, Gabriel Corbec and his soldiers.</s>
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<|description|>Gabriel Corbec
Race: Human
Appearance: The first thing that is usually noted upon seeing Gabriel is the carapace armor that he possesses. What was once a ornate suit of carapace armor fit for a lord-militant is now battle-scarred and worn. It is covered in scorch marks, dents, and other forms of battlefield damage. Despite all this the carapace armor seems to be well taken care, as well as it can at least.
Inside of the carapace armor is a man in his 30s. He stands at an average height for humans at about 5'10. He keeps his brown hair short so as to not get in his way during a fight. His body is adorned in battle scars earned through his years of service.
Personality: Gabriel is a rather pragmatic man. He has seen the virtue of being able to work with xenos, as long as they aren't attacking humans that is. This is because above all else Gabriel loves his men and wants to keep them as safe as he can. This does not mean he is not willing to spend his men's lives, but he refuses to waste them. Though Gabriel refuses to work with any agent of Chaos. In fact he will do all in his power to destroy the agents of Chaos where he sees them.
Bio: Gabriel was born on Cadia before it fell, which makes him one of the last few loyal Cadians in the galaxy. He is also one of a rare breed for Lord-Militant, in that he worked his way up through the ranks until finally becoming one. Now he did start out as a lieutenant, but through his years of service he showed the bravery and zeal required to slowly be promoted through the ranks of the Imperial Guard. Not long before the Emperor fell, Gabriel was promoted to Lord-Militant and assigned a large battle group to go assist a nearby sector.
Unfortunately before he could make it there the Emperor died and the ensuing warp storms scattered his fleet. When his fleet finally managed to tear itself from the warp, he found that he had gone from commanding millions of guardsmen with hundreds of ships to transport them, to only a million guardsmen and a few dozen ships. He had also been deposited a couple centuries later then he had intended. With no idea what had happened and with no means of contacting anyone Gabriel decided to keep moving. In what could be more described as a running battle instead of movement, Gabriel has spent the last 10 years assisting whatever remnants of the Imperium he can find. In that time he has had to face the shocking realizations that the Imperium is gone, the Emperor dead, and that Cadia has fallen.
Finally he has entered into the Gregori Imperium with barely 500,000 men left and a handful of ships. Instead of his usual plan of just seeing if the local humans need assistance, Gabriel has decided to stay and help this nascent Petty Imperium. For he has no plans of seeing all of his men die for nothing.
Forces:
50 regiments of Guardsmen, 5 of which are Cadian
3 Cruisers
10 Escorts
A single squad of Kasrkins which serve as his bodyguards
Allegiance to Gregory: An ally. He sees the Gregori Imperium as a good place to finally settle down and give his men some rest.
Personal Equipment:
-Battle-scarred Carapace armor
-Power Sword
-Bolt pistol</s>
<|message|>Alexius Commenus
Inquisitor Alexius Commenus
Master Alexius sat and looked upon the various other members of Gregori's council that entered after him silently. Nodding back to the Canoness Thamus and former Lord-Militant Corbec, gazed intently upon the lone Eldar and tiny xeno and Captains Lattore and Tyros, and smirked at Inquisitor Consulve, but kept silent and watchful all the while. He didn't say a word as Gregori spoke, and waited a moment before posing his question, formulating his thoughts.
"Yes, I have a couple of concerns. But my first and most pressing is directed towards Inquisitor Consulve."
Alexius turned in his chair to face the other Inquisitor.
"Inquisitor, I would like a simple answer here and now, we can discuss the matter in more detail in private, later if you wish, but I'd prefer to get an answer now: will you consent to serving under me in his Imperial Majesty's new Inquisition? I cannot command you to join my Ordo, nor do I even require you to, but I would prefer if future . . . conflicts . . . in regards to Inquisitorial edicts and orders may be avoided by us acting as a single organization acting in concert rather than a self-proclaimed organization with several rogue agents. What say you?"</s>
<|message|>Canoness Ishitta Thamus
Canoness Ishitta Thamus
Hearing the embodiment say he would be honored to wear the purity seal made for him. Ishitta couldn't help but let a tiny smile. The words pleasing her greatly. Ishitta confident when the seal is sighted on the embodiment in battle. Its sight would inspire her sisters, drive them to fight harder than any battle hymn could even hope to manage. Looking at her two guards Ishitta knew the word would spread quickly once they returned to the Redeemer. News always did, especially things pertaining to the embodiment. Many sisters often whispered about things they saw and heard. Ishitta finding this little habit of her underlings useful and annoying. As many times she had learned about potential problem festering on the Redeemer and was able to quickly deal with the issue before it became problematic. Luckily thanks to the discipline of her order, nothing classified got spread. Although private information was fair game. Ishitta having several facts about herself she'd of rather kept buried, spread around. Not that the information was easy to get at to anyone outside of the order. The Maidens being quite secretive around outsiders.
As the rest of those who would be attending the meeting arrived. Ishitta made mental notes on a couple of the newcomers. Already planning on ways to remove the small Xeno flanked by the hideous Vat-Brutes. Although was aware it was a trader. So it might prove to be of use. Still being a filthy Xeno she would need to watch it very closely. Who knew what the little creature was planning. The Guard captain seemed like a decent man. Ishitta aware from personal experience guardsmen were quite useful although often lacked faith and could be swayed by the heretical dark gods or Xenos. Ishitta thinking the guard captain might be a decent ally to the order. Provided, he and his men were at least somewhat faithful. The other inquisitor that arrived later. Made Ishitta frown seeing the attitude this man as lack of respect to the embodiment. Ishitta's guards shifting, quite unhappy with what they just saw. If he had been aboard the Redeemer, the Inquisitor would have eaten bolter round by now.
When Adeptus Astartes arrived Ishitta placed her hands on her the hilt of her power sword. Ishitta while having respect for all Adeptus Astartes simply for their prowess in battle. She had fought enough of them to know most were not faithful. The first group earned a very unhappy scowl from Ishitta, recognizing the weapons they carried were demon weapons.
"Heretics ..." she muttered under her breath, trailing off as Astartes spoke. Shaking her head, her instincts told her those Astartes needed to cleansed right now. However, she had been told before the meeting not to cause problems by the embodiment himself. That she needed to not pick a fight with every Xeno in the room and anything she deemed heretical. It was probably for the best, given they had already been "harassing" Xeno's as some put it.
"No true servant of the emperor would carry weapons of the great enemy. You are nothing but a heretic. To be put down like the dogs you are." she thought folding her arms, it took a lot to suppress her instincts. However, it was her place to obey the embodiment and she would not fail him. Even if she didn't agree with him.
When told to take a seat Ishitta did just that, her guards taking a single step back. Giving their Mistress enough room to be comfortable. Only Ishitta's aid remained in reach of the Cannoness. Much to aids dismay. Given that Ishitta only tolerated him. Given he was an outsider to her order. A necessary evil to facilitate to ensure her smooth running of the Redeemer and her order. To make sure the outsiders on board that worked most of the ship's systems, where getting along with her sisters.
Sat and quite comfortable Ishitta listened as Inquisitor spoke, looking at both of them. She watched, interested in seeing how the other inquisitor would answer. Once the matter was dealt with. Ishitta decided she'd let the other speak and ask questions. It was good why to learn about those her order would be working with. She did however, order her aid to make notes on what was asked and how it was answered.</s>
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<|message|>Gabriel Corbec
As Gabriel looked around at those who attended the meeting, he couldn't help but notice the people who attended. Inquisitors, Xenos, and Adeptas Sororitas none of them would be adverse to throwing away Guardsmen lives if it made their own situations better. While he had respect for their respective organizations in the Inquisitors' and Canoness's case and was rightfully wary in the xenos' cases; he could only hope that they would afford him and his troops the respect that they deserved. Though he heartened upon seeing the Astartes. He knew the power that the Adeptus Astartes could bring to a line, and the morale boost that would follow them. He could only hope that they could get more as time went on.
As Gregori spoke Gabriel gathered his thought, and after the Inquisitor spoke he stood up as well.
"I have a question and some concerns that I hope to resolve here. First off I would like to know if we have any idea of the first couple of planets we will run into on this campaign. I would like to prepare my troops so that they are ready to fight on them if necessary. Also I have some questions for you Inquisitor Commenus. First off I would like you to send me the details of how your men are organized and what they are equipped with. I would like to know what my men will be fighting alongside. Also, and I may be overstepping my bounds here, I would like for your men to be subordinated under my command. You may leave your own commanders in charge of the units, but I would rather have our military answering to a single point rather than two." Gabriel smiles a bit. " I also think I might just have a bit more experience than you do in running a war. Though if I did overstep my bounds I deeply apologize. I am just doing my best to ensure that this Imperium runs well."
After that Gabriel sat back down and awaited the Inquisitor's response. He also took one last look around and awaited any questions that might be asked of him.</s>
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<|description|>Gabriel Corbec
Race: Human
Appearance: The first thing that is usually noted upon seeing Gabriel is the carapace armor that he possesses. What was once a ornate suit of carapace armor fit for a lord-militant is now battle-scarred and worn. It is covered in scorch marks, dents, and other forms of battlefield damage. Despite all this the carapace armor seems to be well taken care, as well as it can at least.
Inside of the carapace armor is a man in his 30s. He stands at an average height for humans at about 5'10. He keeps his brown hair short so as to not get in his way during a fight. His body is adorned in battle scars earned through his years of service.
Personality: Gabriel is a rather pragmatic man. He has seen the virtue of being able to work with xenos, as long as they aren't attacking humans that is. This is because above all else Gabriel loves his men and wants to keep them as safe as he can. This does not mean he is not willing to spend his men's lives, but he refuses to waste them. Though Gabriel refuses to work with any agent of Chaos. In fact he will do all in his power to destroy the agents of Chaos where he sees them.
Bio: Gabriel was born on Cadia before it fell, which makes him one of the last few loyal Cadians in the galaxy. He is also one of a rare breed for Lord-Militant, in that he worked his way up through the ranks until finally becoming one. Now he did start out as a lieutenant, but through his years of service he showed the bravery and zeal required to slowly be promoted through the ranks of the Imperial Guard. Not long before the Emperor fell, Gabriel was promoted to Lord-Militant and assigned a large battle group to go assist a nearby sector.
Unfortunately before he could make it there the Emperor died and the ensuing warp storms scattered his fleet. When his fleet finally managed to tear itself from the warp, he found that he had gone from commanding millions of guardsmen with hundreds of ships to transport them, to only a million guardsmen and a few dozen ships. He had also been deposited a couple centuries later then he had intended. With no idea what had happened and with no means of contacting anyone Gabriel decided to keep moving. In what could be more described as a running battle instead of movement, Gabriel has spent the last 10 years assisting whatever remnants of the Imperium he can find. In that time he has had to face the shocking realizations that the Imperium is gone, the Emperor dead, and that Cadia has fallen.
Finally he has entered into the Gregori Imperium with barely 500,000 men left and a handful of ships. Instead of his usual plan of just seeing if the local humans need assistance, Gabriel has decided to stay and help this nascent Petty Imperium. For he has no plans of seeing all of his men die for nothing.
Forces:
50 regiments of Guardsmen, 5 of which are Cadian
3 Cruisers
10 Escorts
A single squad of Kasrkins which serve as his bodyguards
Allegiance to Gregory: An ally. He sees the Gregori Imperium as a good place to finally settle down and give his men some rest.
Personal Equipment:
-Battle-scarred Carapace armor
-Power Sword
-Bolt pistol</s>
<|message|>Alexius Commenus
The alien K'Vari's gambit momentarily surprised Alexius, until his brain processed its meaning. K'Vari had come here under a banner of peace, and even it would respect it as a merchant, therefore its goal was impressions rather than action. Shock and awe at its finest, in this case, trying to awe Gregori and shock everyone else, or perhaps a little of both for everyone, including every Imperium Reborn citizen within sight of the vessels.
Alexius had utilized some Xeno tech in his own fleet and had spear-headed the push towards incorporating Xenos into his forces beyond merely taking in civilians. He was even wearing some prize pieces offered to him by a Jokaero clan as a gift. But nothing he had yet seen had compared to the power which K'Vari was potentially offering to Gregori.
But K'Vari was a merchant, and had proposed them as part of a deal, not charity. Such great power, if K'Vari was even being completely honest in his pitch, would not come for cheap. What price the small alien would ask of the new Emperor for their potential partnership he was left to wonder at for now.
As for Gregori himself, Alexius sat back as the self-titled Emperor re-asserted control of the room, and his wider ship thanks to K'Vari's stunt, and then proceeded to outline their first course of action. A Forge-World would be a mighty prize indeed for the fledging Imperium if they could successfully obtain it without severe damage. Such an asset could not be allowed to fall into the hands of a rival, or needlessly destroyed.
But he would discuss their general course of action on those matters shortly, more immediate matters pressed his attention.
As per Gregori's request, Alexius stayed behind, but as he saw Captain Lattore begin to file out from the Council meeting among the others, he stood up from his seat and shouted to the Relictor Captain as he turned to leave.
"Captain Lattore, I would ask, nay, state that in short order you hold an audience with me aboard my battleship. It concerns matters of faith, if you understand my meaning. Once my affairs are sorted here, I anticipate your arrival sooner rather than later aboard The Wandering Chronos."
Alexius had considered invoking his Inquisitorial Edict to force the Captain to attend, but he figured it unnecessary. If he was as sharp as Alexius suspected, he would understand its meaning in its current form as much as everyone else without such blatant brandishes of authority.
He sat back down in his seat after saying this, watching the others as they left the room to him and the others Gregori requested stay.</s>
<|message|>Ritske Seimger
Ritske, in a move thoroughly unlike her, had been standing to one side, barely hiding a laugh as the various members of this ramshackle council bickered and argued among each other. Each member made her worried in different ways, from the Eldar to the Cannoness, although perhaps those two would hate her equally for the same reason. She lit a lho-stick as Gregori showed the worlds, paying close attention to the forge moon. It was needed captured intact, no machinery destroyed. Slaneesh cared not about mindless destruction, but in joy, and she took no joy in smashing random bits of machinery. She grinned as she realised her expertise could be most useful in the upcoming situation, before clearing her throat and talking to Lord Gregori.
"Ahem. My lord. If the Forge Moon needs to be taken intact, then I am sure that I am more than up for the job. You saw what happened when I graced the planet of Caravin VI. Food stockpiles left unlooted, machinery intact, not a single thing damaged by my group, just an..." she had to pick her words very carefully here. "a precise strike. Not a defender left alive, although I admit we may have been a little... Overzealous in the killing of noncombatants." She was praying that Gregori had only heard what had gotten out; that a number of smaller holdouts filled with noncombatants were destroyed, and not the truth, which had been an orgy of violence against anyone vaugley connected to the soldiers who had fought against them.
"The only problem is that my...Warband has been decimated. I still have my flagship, as well as a number of smaller ones that make up my 'fleet,'" she knew that compared to Gregori, or even the Inquisitors, the few ships that she had orbiting were nothing, but nonetheless they were ships, and jump-ready ships at that. "If it wouldn't bother you, a small detachment of soldiers would be most welcome. I can also, perhaps, see if anyone on the planet below would like to trade a life down there for a life plying the stars, and we certainly have enough weaponry that we can supply them with the basics." the implication was, of course, that anyone coming along would most likely end up corrupted by the constant chaotic presence, but nobody, not even Gregori, knew of her worship.
"As well as this, I need to speak with you, preferably in private about a matter that has come to my attention Inquisitor Alexius. It involves me and some of my... Less savoury attitudes. Apparently a rumour has been spreading among your crew and I would like to clear it up in private. No need to air my laundry out in front of all these people, if you catch my meaning." She smiled at him and brushed a strand of hair aside, trying to look casual. She had no idea how the people on that fucking flagship had started thinking she was worshipping Slaneesh, but she needed to clear it up. The Inquisitor as well, she had heard, was surprisingly lenient when it came to the ruinious powers, but that was to be seen.</s>
<|message|>Canoness Ishitta Thamus
Canoness Ishitta Thamus
As the representative, to the other Adeptus Astartes spoke to Ishitta. The Canoness scowled at him. His words falling of deaf ears. Ishitta not interested in listening to the Astartes words. He was lucky she was the Canoness, given her predecessor would have tried to purge him for speaking to her like that. Even if she had been ordered not to. Ishitta giving the Astartes a dismissive wave of her hand, to show she wasn't interested in listening to him or continuing this argument. Although Ishitta's aid wrote down every word spoke the Astartes spoke to his mistress, just in case she wanted it later.
It was then the little Xeno moved the center of the room and spoke Ending its words with a snap of its fingers. Ishitta looking at the Xeno with a raised eyebrow. Wondering what the little Xeno was up to. Her guards eyeing the alien. Then out of nowhere alarms filled the room. Ishitta's Celestian guard, raising her bolter taking aim at the alien. While her Repentia Mistress draw a pair neural whips. Ishitta however, didn't move. Her instincts telling her the Xeno wouldn't dare attack and bring down the rather of everyone here with only two guards.
"Standdown." Ishitta commanded and her guards obeying going back to their previous stance. The Canoness thinking whatever was going on would most likely have alarmed those in the hanger and her Palatine. Who was commanding the Redeemer while Ishitta was off ship. Ishitta knewing her Palatine would be keeping a close eye on the Embodiments flagship while Ishitta was on it.
"One of you, find out what going on. Ensure everyone there is no cause for alarm." Ishitta order quietly as the little Xeno started speaking. Ishitta's guards looking at each other in silence. Before nodding to each other. The Celestian slowly walking out of the chamber. Doing her best to not interrupt what was going on.
The moment the Embodiment stood up, Ishitta was unsure what to expect. Watching the Embodiment closely, as he went around the room speaking to each of those that had been involved with the petty argument. Ishitta lowering her head as the Embodiment came to her last. Ask her a question that Ishitta only had one answer to.
"No, I would never ..." she muttered quietly trailing off. Her voice barely loud enough to be heard by the Embodiment before he walked off. Ishitta feeling like a fool for letting her temper and zeal get the better of her. She'd need to watch herself more in the future. Otherwise, her tongue and temper might get her into trouble. Having spoken with that were involved in the little argument. Ishitta watching as the Embodiment moved the meeting on to the topic. Seeing a hologram of a the Revelius system listening to the Embodiment as he started to explain the first target of the expansion crusade. Watching as the hologram zoom in on the what was explained to be the Forge moon Amatheus.
Listening to the Embodiment Ishitta made a mental note to start double combat drills. Given the order haven't seen a real battle in many months. She'd needed to make sure they were ready. Just in case the order was called to battle. When told she was dismissed, Ishitta wasted no time in leaving. Being one of the frist out of the room. She headed back to her lander and moment later was in transit back to the Redeemer of Worlds. Which was remaining close to Saint's Chariot. So the trip was short.
Once aboard she summoned a meeting of the uppermost members of the Order. Ishitta wanting to discuss with them in making sure all sections of the Order were ready for whatever the Embodiment called them to do. That meeting quick and once it was over Ishitta went to one of the Redeemers many shrines to the Emporer the sisters had set up. There she knelt before the shine to and started to mutter prayers softly.</s>
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<|message|>Gabriel Corbec
Gabriel couldn't help but grimace as his fellows started arguing. The campaign had even started and already the bickering had begun. Gabriel was a bit used to this from the Imperium of old, but had hoped that it would not trouble this Imperium for awhile at least. Though as in the Imperium of old he kept his head down and kept out of it, the Imperial Guard existed to serve not to cause more problems.
As the smaller Xeno, K'vari he thought it was, stepped forward Gabriel looked at him with some interest hoping he wasn't going to continue the bickering that several others had fallen into. As he snapped his fingers Gabriel could only look at him with curiosity wondering what he was doing. At least until the alarms started blaring. As he stood wiht his hand on his sword he started listening to the reports coming in as he glared at the Xeno. Though as the reports started coming in, Gabriel couldn't help but sit back down in shock. A stealth ship. WHile Gabriel was no Imperial Navy captain even he understood the signficance of that. Though he couldn't help but also wonder what K'vari would charge for this.
Gabriel was still in deep thought as Gregori walked around and snapped out of it once the hologram of the Forge Moon popped up. Instantly Gabriel's mind started racing about what he could afford to bring to take it. As he put more and more thought into it he couldn't help but scowl as it didn't seem like this would be at all easy. Though as he thought he made sure to tell one of his Kasrkins to send a message to his commanders to start preparing the men for urban combat. As Ritske spoke up he started factoring a mercenary band thrown in before discard that idea when she mentioned the killing of noncombatants. In this case those noncombatants were as important as the world itself. As he put more thought into it he was dimly aware of Gregori dismissing the rest of the council but telling him and the inquisitors to stay. Though he snapped out of it when the Astartes approached him. "Do not worry Captain Lattore I will make good use of you and your men." Gabriel then turned to Gregori, "My Emperor I would like to request all the information that you have on the system the Forge Moon resides in. I would like to know everything that we know before I start planning this."</s>
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<|description|>Gabriel Corbec
Race: Human
Appearance: The first thing that is usually noted upon seeing Gabriel is the carapace armor that he possesses. What was once a ornate suit of carapace armor fit for a lord-militant is now battle-scarred and worn. It is covered in scorch marks, dents, and other forms of battlefield damage. Despite all this the carapace armor seems to be well taken care, as well as it can at least.
Inside of the carapace armor is a man in his 30s. He stands at an average height for humans at about 5'10. He keeps his brown hair short so as to not get in his way during a fight. His body is adorned in battle scars earned through his years of service.
Personality: Gabriel is a rather pragmatic man. He has seen the virtue of being able to work with xenos, as long as they aren't attacking humans that is. This is because above all else Gabriel loves his men and wants to keep them as safe as he can. This does not mean he is not willing to spend his men's lives, but he refuses to waste them. Though Gabriel refuses to work with any agent of Chaos. In fact he will do all in his power to destroy the agents of Chaos where he sees them.
Bio: Gabriel was born on Cadia before it fell, which makes him one of the last few loyal Cadians in the galaxy. He is also one of a rare breed for Lord-Militant, in that he worked his way up through the ranks until finally becoming one. Now he did start out as a lieutenant, but through his years of service he showed the bravery and zeal required to slowly be promoted through the ranks of the Imperial Guard. Not long before the Emperor fell, Gabriel was promoted to Lord-Militant and assigned a large battle group to go assist a nearby sector.
Unfortunately before he could make it there the Emperor died and the ensuing warp storms scattered his fleet. When his fleet finally managed to tear itself from the warp, he found that he had gone from commanding millions of guardsmen with hundreds of ships to transport them, to only a million guardsmen and a few dozen ships. He had also been deposited a couple centuries later then he had intended. With no idea what had happened and with no means of contacting anyone Gabriel decided to keep moving. In what could be more described as a running battle instead of movement, Gabriel has spent the last 10 years assisting whatever remnants of the Imperium he can find. In that time he has had to face the shocking realizations that the Imperium is gone, the Emperor dead, and that Cadia has fallen.
Finally he has entered into the Gregori Imperium with barely 500,000 men left and a handful of ships. Instead of his usual plan of just seeing if the local humans need assistance, Gabriel has decided to stay and help this nascent Petty Imperium. For he has no plans of seeing all of his men die for nothing.
Forces:
50 regiments of Guardsmen, 5 of which are Cadian
3 Cruisers
10 Escorts
A single squad of Kasrkins which serve as his bodyguards
Allegiance to Gregory: An ally. He sees the Gregori Imperium as a good place to finally settle down and give his men some rest.
Personal Equipment:
-Battle-scarred Carapace armor
-Power Sword
-Bolt pistol</s>
<|message|>Captain Tyros Maxim
"Hail, Gregori!" spoke Captain Tyros - being the first one to reach the Chariot. Namely cause his Battle-Barge Black Flame - didn't have many men to transport or prepare. Only himself, which also was aided by the fact - that he had a teleportarium link with the flagship. Being one of the Astartes to possess such an ancient tech and the knowledge to maintain and use it.
Tyros was wearing his usual black armor, the bone spikes coated in a metallic sheen. Namely he was prepared to use any weapon at his disposal to destroy the enemies of Man. Including the Curse, that had once gotten his Chapter almost banished from the Imperium of Mankind in the first place. He was carrying a bolter, as old as he was - yet well maintained and looking no older than few years, due to some scratches on the metal surface. A plasma pistol rested on one hip, while a chainsword was on the other - what was likely more surprising was the fact; that onto his armor was attached three purity seals.
These weren't the immitations of the current Sororitas, or whatever remained of the Ecclesiarchy. Rather these were the older kind, carefully sealed and held in a special box - only worn, incase of an Astartes going to war. These seals were worn, whe the old Imperium had stood - and that had been blessed by the Emperor' Will. Each seal for one purpose of their Chapter - duty, service, loyalty. These were the beliefs that Tyros, and his other three members of their remaining Chapter held onto deeply. It only took one spark to lit illuminate this dark abyss.</s>
<|message|>Alexius Commenus
Inquisitor Alexius' Cutter departed from one of the newly outfitted Battleships of the Imperium Reborn's Fleet. He had chosen not to arrive aboard The Wandering Chronos and leave it behind in Arexia Prime's system for several reasons. First being that the Battleship itself, formidable though it was, was not fully crewed and therefore not ideal for a protracted battle situation. Second being that the ship was the Ordo Chronos' base of operations, training grounds, and personal abode, he would not risk its destruction or damage in battle at this stage, even if they had overwhelming numbers here. The Ordo's purpose was to serve as the new Inquisition of the Imperium Reborn, and that had to take priority over the current martial situation of the campaign's beginning. Besides, he'd given Lord Corbec almost all of the rest of his fleet and army to command, he felt the Lord-Militant wouldn't begrudge him one Battleship.
Thus, he'd obtained private transport aboard the newly formed Navy. He did his best to keep a low profile about the situation, mostly out of his desire for privacy in thinking about what to do about the negotiations over the Forge-Moon along with all of the other rogue elements that seemed to be cropping up into the Imperium by the week, but also out of caution about who had been spying on his fleet. He had read Lord Corbec's message before making his arrangements to depart, and figured that although he could not pursue the contents now, he thought it wouldn't hurt to be too careful. He'd also sent Inquisitor Varius off on his Special Assignment to the Relictor's Starfort, and under the terms of Special Assignment, he was not to communicate with Alexius via regular, overt channels. Thus, he'd heard nothing of his Inquisitor's reception there, but he wasn't too worried given his discussion with Captain Lattore earlier.
In any case, the burst of conflict immediately following the entry into the Forge-Moon's Orbit surprised him. He didn't expect they would encounter resistance so early. He hoped that whoever it was, the negotiations were not already blown. Once the Cutter crew got the clear to move, they set a course through the fleet to Saint's Chariot.
Entering onto the bridge alone, he saw Gregori already there among his crew, and the Astartes Captain Tyros who towered above everyone else in the room. He entered calmly in and made small conversation, nodding respectfully to the Astartes before turning to the new Emperor.
"Captain Tyros. I come as requested your Imperial Majesty, hopefully that reception outside is not indicative of what the situation of the Forge-Moon is. Though I must admit, I always though Forge-Moons taken by the Archenemy to be not so . . . pristine in nature. If a Forge-Moon can be called pristine."</s>
<|message|>Captain Leal Lettore
Prior to the fleet's sendoff into the warp, Inquisitor Malodrax had been received upon the Relictor's fortress monastery. The reception had been a quiet one, with most of the brothers not particularly aware of his presence among the small mortal population aboard. The Relictors had navagators, recruits, scouts, servitors, and a smattering of support staff, many of which were recently acquired. The captain had first lieutenant Garwyn give the guided tour, avoiding any dangerous areas such as still damaged parts of the starfort and of course the locations of any active 'research.' Of course Varius would have wanted to personally inspect everywhere possible, and on a starfort, that took a while. The inquisitor was to be treated with the utmost respect and all his questions answered plainly. Leal's intent was to have complete transparency to the eyes of the Ordo.
During his stay, the captain had also privately confided to Varius his concerns over the brothers' silent unrest. "...It is only their natural desire to serve the Imperium. Our loyal Relictors are frustrated with months of aimless travel through the blackness of space and long to set their blades along the throats of the demonic hordes. We shall see to that soon enough."
---
Finally, the day arrived that the forgemoon Amaltheus was in sight. The massive starfort ripped through an enormous rift into material space moments after the rest of Gregori's fleet had preceeded them to find local space alight with naval battle. Although badly damaged, the Ramillies starfort defenses were still overwhelming, and it dominated the space around itself. However, there was one quarter, the most heavily damaged, which was less capable than the rest, and Lattore worked hard to keep that section as secret as possible. The Relictor captain stood on his command deck with a number of superior officers overseeing the space battle until completion. Inquisitor Malodrax was present as well. In the end, none of the enemy ships were threatening enough to contest the superior ships of the newly arriving fleet, and they were destroyed or vacated quickly.
"Captain Lattore. We're picking up communication from the surface. There's a battle going on down there."
"Can you identify the combatents?" Leal was eager for a status report.
"I'm picking up Skitarri transmission, and unknown, presumably chaos cultists."
Leal nodded. It was predictable. At least the mechanicus still lived on the forgemoon. Those cultists were undoubtedly causing damage however.
"Captain. I'm also detecting... Space Wolves."
Leal quirked en eyebrow. He blinked and stared at the screen. "Hm. This could complicate matters. Bring us into orbit. Jeffri, inform the flagship when we are in position to transport to the surface. We're not engaging without orders while Emperor Amastov flies beside us."
Leal heaved a deep breath. "Locate the Space Wolves' strike cruiser and aim our strongest shields in their direction."</s>
<|message|>Captain Leal Lettore
Once the immediate threats in space had been handled, Captain Lattore opened up a channel directly to the Space Wolves' battlebarge. It was only natural that space marine chapters would converse directly with each other, given their history and separate status from mortal forces. Leal had to break the ice before dangerous assumptions might be made.
"Hail esteemed Space Wolf brothers. This is First Captain and Chapter Master Leal Lattore of the Relictors. Our starfort monastery has just entered realspace alongside you. We are escorting the naval fleet of the Imperium Reborn under the new Emperor Amastov..." Leal wasn't sure how the Space Wolves were going to react to all that. He had just identified himself as the core of the previously excommunicated and furthermore declared 'traitor' chapter, The Relictors, and he had flagrantly announced that some mere human, mortal asshole named Amastov had declared himself the new emperor of the Imperium, and they were following him.
Nonetheless, he went on to deliver the important part of his message, which were his intentions. "We have come in peace and intend to provide you with support in the battle on the lunar surface. Please report to us your status and the status of the forgemoon battle below."
Leal released the transmitter and waited with one hand behind his back. There was a 50% chance... no, more like an 80% chance the Space Wolves told them to go fuck themselves, a 10% chance they opened fire, and probably a 10% chance they accepted assistance. Nonetheless, Leal would make sure Gregori received the transcript of the communications.</s>
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<|message|>Gabriel Corbec
As the fleet traveled through the warp, Gabriel couldn't help but think on the disagreement he had with Lord Karthis. While Gabriel could understand Karthis's reluctance to give up control of his men it was an issue that would have to be addressed. But later, after the Forge Moon had been taken. Though this time he would approach Karthis in a more diplomatic fashion.
---
As the fleet arrived in system and the reports started filtering in Gabriel's eyes hardened. Chaos ships in orbit around the Forge Moon, Gabriel knew his men would probably be needed on the surface below. So Gabriel began issuing orders to the Imperial Guardsmen in the fleet. Make ready for deployment to the Forge Moon below. If the orders to attack came the Imperial Guard would be ready.
As the battle in space progressed Gabriel couldn't help but smile with savage glee. It felt good to be fighting for the Imperium once more, even if the Imperium wasn't exactly the same. He also hoped that everyone understood the significance of this battle. This was hopefully the start of something new. Something that could help bring order to this chaotic mess of a galaxy. If everything went well of course.
By the time Gregori's order to come to his flagship arrived Gabriel was already half way to the hangar on his vessel. He had intended to be ready to deploy with his men, but instead he diverted to the Saint's Chariot. As he entered the meeting room he could only hope that in the coming battles his men would survive. As Gabriel entered he noticed that Captain Tyros and Inquisitor Alexius had arrived before. He nodded to them in greeting before turning and bowing to Gregori before addressing him.
"My Emperor, my men stand ready. We only await your command. If the foul forces of Chaos think they can take this Forge Moon then they are sorely mistaken."</s>
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<|description|>Captain Tyros Maxim
Race: Adeptus Astartes
Appearance:
Personality: As a Space Marine from the Black Dragons Chapter, Tyros maintains the dignity of his duty and purpose. To serve the Imperium, even after it's death. Despite the turmoil of the millenia, he has become more cynical yet retained his will and compassion. The truth of the Founding Chapter, the Salamanders - though their are few left - he continues doing his duty and serves the remnants of the Imperium.
Bio: Captain Tyros Maxim had been the leader of the Black Dragons Chapter onboard the Battle-Barge Black Flame - once the Astronomican failed however, they were deposited into real-space; their Navigator dead yet their ship intact without the taint of Chaos.
At the start there was panic, fear and anxiety - the dreaded chill, that the Emperor had fallen and alongside it the Imperium. With no Imperium in-sight, and cut off from their other battle-brothers, the Black Dragons limped on through space. They had been lucky, already in hiding due to their mutation in their gene-seed - they had been deposited in a secret of space, full of aliens yet void of any massive Chaos incursions.
Though they had a good company of brothers, throughout the years - age, madness and xenos had whittled down their numbers, for several millenia they had drifted through space. Starting at around two-hundred brothers, they had flown through the stars aboard their Battle-Barge. Scavenging what they could from alien wreckages. Encountering weird fire-breathing flyers, whom had consumed one Imperial City to their very last people - it had been their hardest and first battle of them all. Losing at around a fifty, and yet they had managed to eradicate the deadly xeno before they could spread.
They then had visited a water-world, where several Imperial and Chaos ships had battled out several years ago. Scavenging what they could, while defending against the incursion of both Chaos, madness within their own ranks and dealing with the sea-creatures that tried to eat both of them.
In addition to that, over a barren wasteland - the Black Dragon Chapter engaged several Eldar corsairs. They infamous xenos, attacking at the last vestiges of might - in a galaxy where their race was close to extinction. They battled over an unknown moon at that, later called the Emperor' Stand - after their battle. As while the Eldar outnumbered them, the Black Dragon Chapter utilized skill and practicality. Sacrificing half of their brothers, in order to trap the Eldar pirates upon the moon - before unleashing a Cyclonic Torpedo upon the place, annihilating the Eldar whom had camped out upon the bodies of their dead brothers.
They took place in about a hundred battles, each as glories and tough, as before their times. Each and every time, they encountered either xenos. Freshly discovered and hostile lifeform, Chaos incursion. Or Imperials corrupted or twisted beyond recognition that was only cleansed by fire. Maintaining their equipment as best they could, until barely a squad anymore - they were deposited onto the outskirts of the Gregorian Imperium and their first sight of an Imperial Stronghold.
Forces:
* Battle-Barge Black Flame
* Three Space Marines (One Apochathery, One Tactical Marine, One Techmarine)
Allegiance to Gregori: Servant of the Imperium' people. Ally.
Personal equipment:
* Bolter
* Plasma Pistol
* Chainsword
* Astartes Power Armor</s>
<|message|>Syvarrus
Syvarrus had remained passively quiet and contemplative throughout the discussion, up until the most recent addition to the conversation. The Eldar didn't recognize the chapter heraldry of this imposing Space Marine, but he did recognize the threat posed by the vile weapons he and his brothers carried. So it was with great interest, and no small amount of skepticism that he listened, hawkish eyes narrowing to slits as the Captain spoke. When the giant superhuman finished speaking, Syvarrus stepped forward, thinking it prudent that he speak his peace in response to the Captain's address.
As he spoke, his hand drifted fluidly to rest on the hilt of his sheathed power sword. He had no idea how well this would go over considering present company, and did not intend to be caught off-guard by a power-armoured fist to his jaw for the words to come.
By the time Syvarrus had finished, his hand grasped the hilt of his power sword tightly at his hip, his knuckles whitening as he squeezed the handle in anticipation of some horrible and swift battle in the opulant meeting-chamber.</s>
<|message|>Canoness Ishitta Thamus
Canoness Ishitta Thamus
@Switch
Ishitta sat and watched as Inquisitor Alexius's offer was rejected, by the other one. Glancing at her aid as he wrote quickly trying to jot down everything the other Inquisitor spoke. Worried about the punishment Ishitta would inflict on him should he fail. The order not taking kindly to those that fail their duty and given he was an outsider. Ishitta would much harsher on him then if it was one of her sisters.
When the other Inquisitor had finished declining the offer made to him. Ishitta demanded the notes her aid was making. Them reading over the quickly as silence filled the chamber. Nodding in approval at choice the other Inquisitor made able to see his reasons why and respected the choice. Even if he needed to learn to be more respectful of those already appointed to power by the Embodiment. Handing the notes back to her aid she demanded a note be made to watch that other Inquisitor closely.
When the representative of the Heretical Adeptus Astartes. Ishitta frowned. Listening to the Heretics words with a look of disgust plastered on her face. This Astartes was challenging, the embodiment right to rule. Ishitta finding the words made her blood boil, the expression on her face starting to darken. How she wished she could purge the heretical Astartes. It was only by the will emperor of the Embodiment of his will. Had Ishitta remained seat had actually not interrupted and told the Astartes to be silent. It didn't stop her blood from reaching boiling point and when the Astartes finished speaking Ishitta slammed her fists into the table in front of her. The Cannoness rose from her seat and glared at Relictors representative, then at the Eldar Ishitta's guards again shifting. After expecting the order to attack the Xeno.
"Forgive me Embodiment, but I will not sit here and let some heretical Astartes and foul Xeno try to question your right to rule your Impreium! To question my duty! The duty of my order! To speak complete and utter heresy! By your generosity, they will not meet my blade. As difficult as it prove to keep it sheathed. I will obey your command to not cause a fight for it is my duty to obey the one who embodies HIS will. However, I will not continue to listen in silence." Ishissta said anger lining her words. Her hands shaking slightly rage.
"You Astartes you question my duty! My duty it to serve the one who Embodies the late god-emperors will! You dare question that! Unlike you! I know my duty and I know my place. It is not my or your place to question, it is to serve faithfully without question.
NEXT TIME YOU DARE QUESTION THAT OR THE EMBODIMENT! I will put you down, like the heretical dog you are! A questioning servant is more dangerous than an ignorant heretic. So tell me which are you Astartes? For there is only one solution to deal with both." Ishitta spoke turning her gaze to the Eldar. Glaring at the Xeno for a moment. Huffing before sitting back down.
"Do not speak of the embodiment like that again filthy Xeno. Otherwise, the first chance I get I will purge you. Although it would be a mercy." Ishitta merely stated sounding almost claim, her voice carrying undertones of her anger and disgust. Having spoken Ishitta was content to listen again and endure whatever punishment the Embodiment felt like giving her. Ishitta knowing she overstepped her bounds. So was expecting some sort of punishment, it what she'd of dne if her underlings overstepped. No matter the reason.</s>
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<|message|>Captain Tyros Maxim
"ENOUGH!" spoke the voice of Captain Tyros. He hated seeing such a bare Imperium torn apart, before it had time to fully be created at that. He disliked how the various factions were already at eachother' throats at that.
"Brother. Considering the objects, you use - perhaps it best, you stick to merely using it to fight our enemies. Less you say something, that might offend our other individuals," he spoke, as he crossed his arms and stood up.
"I have also known of your kind...Eldar. During the Times of the Imperium, you weren't know much for your trust either. I will watch over you, as I do over our other Chapter," he spoke - treating the Eldar as they usually did. At a distance and with intelligent care. Only a fool would ignore the danger of the Eldar, as he likely could kill half of the people in here.
Snowman
"And you Sister," he spoke, looking at Ishitta. "An ignorant heretic, is not as much dangerous - as an over-zealous servant. I for one, had fought during the Time of the Emperor. I had seen the bravery of the simple Guardsman, the force of the Imperial Navy and the fury of the Adeptus Sororitas."
His eyes then focused behind his helmet. "I have also seen what has happened, when the Servant of the Emperor, has taken Authority into his own hands," he looked at her, his eyes staring into her soul. "Have you Sister, felt the loss of an entire world to the fire of Exterminatus - because some Lord Admiral or Inquisitor, thought or believed Xenos or Heretics on a pure world? I have."
"I have seen many worlds burn, Loyalist Chapters excommunicated and forced to serve Chaos - because, they didn't believe the same as the man - a human, who held power at the moment. Innocent, executed by the millions, cause a Commissar saw Chaos were there was none," he added. "Such acts had wasted the resources of the Imperium, as much as any Chaos incursion."
"And you would do well - to respect the strength of those, you threaten. Blind faith doesn't shield you against a bolter nor a plasma blast," he added. "The Eldar could kill you before you move. Learn to use your mind, Sister. Gregori and this Imperium, still needs you. I hope you do best, to not waste yourself Canoness Ishitta Thamus or your Sisters, in some suicidal pursuit. The God-Emperor helped those, who help themselves. And this Imperium is still in need of you and your strength. There are horrors in this Galaxy more dangerous and lethal, then the ones sitting in this table." With that notion, Captain Tyros sat down once more - finished in his speech.</s>
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<|description|>Vladimír Zahrádka
Also Known As: Vladi
Birthdate: January 8th, 2060
Place of Origin: Czech Republic
Ethnicity: Czech
Gender: Male
Age: 34
Height: 6' 2"/ 188cm
Weight: 180 lbs/82kg
Appearance:
---
District: Invention district
Why are they in Prison? Blamed for the death of his brother Zdeněk
Family: All family is now deceased, most recently his younger brother Zdeněk
Personality: Vladimir can be classified as the quiet aggressive type. He isn't afraid to go against the grain of what is expected of him to get his message across. He barely speaks but often mumbles unintelligibly, almost like a grunt accompanied by a nod or shake in response to anything asked of him. A look in his eyes will show you his compassion and aggression, should you get close enough to see them.
History:
Vladimir and Zdeněk grew up in the slums of the Mechanical district. Zdeněk his brother, was 6 years younger then himself and was also the more talkative of the two. His parents dealt in illegal drug trade as the two boys wondered the slums, picking fights, damaging public property and defacing public service announcement posters. In the dark hours of the night Vladimir would use scraps from around the district to create new inventions. He, of course, kept this to himself as he didn't want his things getting stolen and also did not want to backlash of his comrades for dabbling in something that advance. Zdeněk of course, knew of this habit and addiction and encouraged his brother to join the Inventors district as an apprentice.
After much discussion and convincing, Vladimir finally started his apprenticeship on the day of his 18th birthday. Zdeněk had to stay behind in the mechanical district until he was of age. Though this troubled Vladimir, he studied diligently and intensely, craving every ounce of knowledge he could gain from his master of trade. For most of his apprenticeship he didn't have a partner or no co-apprentice, Vladimir did not mind this as he rather enjoyed learning at his pace without the hindrance or annoyance of a 'low minded individual' asking questions where if they had thought for only a moment longer they would have discovered the answers to.
Zdeněk turned 18 during Vladimirs training but chose not to move into the industrial district with his brother and instead helped his parents in the drug trade, now unguided by his brother and using the drugs he was meant to trade. Vladimir, having no knowledge of this continued and finished his apprenticeship at the age of 26, developing his own style and industry. At this time he left briefly as the death of his parents through gang violence caused him to step aside momentarily.
Upon arriving back in the mechanical district, Vladimir discovered the sorry state of his brother, drugged up, tattooed and beaten down, robbed of everything he owned. Instantly, Vladimir assisted Zdeněk by taking him to his apartment in the inventors district where, as he worked, he nursed his brother to sobriety. This took over a year as Zdeněk had gone down tremendously since his brothers departure, Vladimir took on no apprentices during this time. Once his brother was of health, he immediately became Vladimirs first and only apprentice. Vladimir was now 27, Zdeněk, 21.
The two brothers worked hard and well together as with Vladimirs lack of verbal communication and Zdeněk's increased ability to communicate well they understood each other. Together they invented a small helping robot for themselves of which they named Lucas (luk-ush). This little robot became increasingly helpful in the working of smaller areas or in inventions that required something small to get into and adjust little parts.
A year before the end of Zdeněk's apprenticeship (today's date), Vladimir discovered that his brother had begun using again. This disappointment sent a shiver of mistrust through him, electrocuting his anger. When he confronted his brother about it, Zdeněk simply said it helped him work and made him feel better. This argument happened while Vladimir was working at the top of a large piece of machinery and Zdeněk on the bottom. Their argument echoed around the walls of their workplace. Granted there weren't very many others around and they were speaking in foreign tongue so their words could not be understood, it was still a disturbance. Vladimir was furious with his brother, demanding he stop or he would discontinue his apprenticeship. Zdeněk refused to let it go, the drugs having already taken a hold of him once again. In his fury, Vladimir cut the wrong wire, sending the large mechanical object crashing down on top of Zdeněk. His brother screamed in pain as the metal pieces pierced his skin sending drips of blood down the sides of the walkway he had fallen before.
Vladimir screamed apologies and anguish at the light in Zdeněk's eyes fading slowly. In a small whisper Zdeněk's croaked under a pained and broken voice, "I'm sorry brother, I love you." and passed on. Vladimir remembers little after this, the darkness that consumed him after his brothers death and during his trial leaves and emptiness in the memories that shouldn't have been forgotten.
Sample RP: Please see history! If you need more, see my post here
Password: Cheesecake! Yum!
Misc: Not applicable yet.</s>
<|message|>Dyanne Cana Delmar
Dyanne Cana Delmar - Arrival to Ironwell Prison
Dyanne's arrest at the hands of the cops, were a little bit more cruel to her since how she killed her first victim and she did it when she had a mental breakdown. She arrived at her home for the rest of her life, Ironwell Prison at 0700 hours. She was completely numb and didn't know what's going on it was like her life was flashing before her eyes. Even though she had some semblance of thoughts but they were erratic and her mental state was completely devastated. She was escorted by guards, in chains to her prison cell for the rest of her life and it was in C-2 Block.
She was too busy with looking at the ground while she walked being escorted to her prison cell to even realize anything has changed. "I am nothing…," thought Dyanne to herself. The Guards wasn't too phased at what this prisoner is doing since all of them soon come to the realization they aren't ever going to leave. The guards reached C Block and got in with showing their badges at the entrance to the C-2 Block. Dyanne continued to walk with the guards escorting her, which felt like an eternity for her. Dyanne had no idea what horrors was in this prison but expected she was going to learn somethings about it, while she's in here.
"I am nothing…," thought Dyanne again. Dyanne's innermost thoughts is this over and over again for some odd reason. Dyanne was too distracted within her mind to even realize she has arrived at her destination. The guards brought her to cell G8-L, there is three beds in there but they are empty, since one of the beds is for Dyanne. Dyanne walked into her cell without any lip even though it was in the morning, they read the reports of her in custody, she didn't really eat anything. Dyanne was still looking down and she tripped over nothing onto the bed. The two guards just laugh a little bit and just shrug their shoulders in this overly depressing girl. "You will be escorted for certain activities, meals, or outdoors in the courtyard," The guard said to Dyanne.
Dyanne looked up to the guard and nod her head slowly and then her cell was closed. "I am nothing…," thought Dyanne again. Dyanne sat up on her bed, just staring up at the ceiling, reminding her of the simple times, when she was still with her family. Dyanne had a smile on her face though of reminding herself of these simple times though, but that all washed away when realizing she was in jail. Dyanne looked down at the ground in her cell and she was tearing up since she has no idea why she caused this horrible tear in her family.</s>
<|message|>Helma Jade Berger
Helma Jade BergerThe announcements rang through the place where she was being held, some kind of undersea craft. The sack over her head made things unpleasantly stuffy, not to mention that she hated the feeling of not knowing what was going on around her. But the announcement had told her all she needed to know; that she had arrived at the prison where she was going to be held. Yes, she did deserve to be held. After what she had done before being captured, she supposed she deserved it. But that didn't mean she had to like it.
Standing up when instructed, she began to walk forwards, grudgingly letting the guard guide her so she didn't trip. After the check-up, she accepted her meager belongings. The sack over her head came off soon afterwards, letting her take a look at the place that was now to be her "home". She couldn't help but snort at the artwork on the wall. Was that supposed to make them feel better about the fact that they were in prison now? They didn't even care.
When it was time for her to be escorted to her cell with the other girls, she kept her head high and her face emotionless. However, inside she was struggling to accept the fact that she would be living here now. Part of her was to tempted to try a hopeless escape, but she knew that escape from here was nearly impossible. Instead, she let herself be pushed into her cell.
The door closed and locked behind her, leaving her with her cellmates. It was hard to ignore the wailing of the girl that in the same cell as Helma, and it was even harder to hold back on shouting at the girl to just shut up and keep her self pity to herself. To drown out the girl's wails, Helma threw herself on her cot, burying her head beneath the thin pillow. She lay awake for a long time even after the wailing stopped, falling asleep in the early hours of the morning.
---
The announcement later in the morning woke her up at once from her fitful sleep, though she didn't fully process whatever the announcement was actually about. Having slept a grand total of three to four hours, there were dark circles under her eyes. She didn't want to get up. But after laying there for a few minutes, her mouth twisted into something that seemed half a grimace and half smile, though one without joy. Right, let's do this. I'm going to get up now. Now. As in now.
It was still another minute before she got up, in time to exit her cell as the doors buzzed three times before opening. She didn't try to make any trouble that morning, not when she was half asleep on her feet and probably would have a hard time throwing a good punch. Accepting her tray of what was supposed to be edible food, she simply found the nearest available seat and sat.
She eyed her food with obvious distaste before picking up the utensil provided and taking a mouthful. Blech. It didn't taste anything like food, but she needed to eat something. Lifting another spoonful of food to her mouth, she continued to eat.</s>
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<|message|>Vladimír Zahrádka
The sights and sounds of the cafeteria shuffle were always unchanging, always the same, no matter the meal, no matter the time. Vladimir watched silently as a man, perhaps in his forties, wearing a 57 on his jumpsuit, approached the gate segregating the men from the woman, reached out and grabbed one by the caller, muttering the words of an assailant under his breath as the womans jumpsuit stretched and tore at his grip. Two guards immediately ascended on the man, each one using their tazers to bring him to his knees, leaving him on the floor in a pool of his own secretion. The female prisoner on the opposite end of the bars had dropped her tray at the assault and was currently attempting to stand in line to receive another one where she was denied the food.
As the man lay there, food spilled in a puddle of goo near his hand with the tray flipped, eyes blinking slowly from the shock and puddle around him, soaking into his jumpsuit, other inmates quickly shifted towards him, fishing his pockets for anything they could find before kicking his shoes with a "Get up, you're pathetic." Guards came around, shoving inmates aside and also kicking the floored inmates boots and yelling, "Filth. Stand up you sick fuck and clean this up!" His voice was shrill and sharp. Number 57 quivered a little, coming back to reality slowly before attempting to lift himself from the ground. A bruise was already forming on his cheek from it's impact on the ground.
Though Vladimir's expression was unchanging as he turned back to his yellow goop which was now half finished, his white spoon now holding a thick layer of sludge like film which no amount of effort could remove. His eyes caught those of the Asian looking man who sat down near him, perhaps one of the new arrivals from the previous night, or so thought Vladimir. His expression, still held in a neutral tone was ever unchanging as he looked for just long enough to give the impression that he was aware of his presence but just that. He once again, faced his gruel and took one last bit before putting down his spoon and continuing to study the activity of the inmates surrounding him.</s>
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<|description|>Isadora Albescu Fuji
Also Known As: The Phantom, Isa.
Birthdate: Takeda, Fushimi, Kyoto.
Place of Origin: Japan
Ethnicity: French, Romanian, Japanese.
Gender: Female
Age: 19
Height: 5' 2''
Weight: 115 Lbs
Appearance: Isadora is a thin and petite albino girl, she has emerald eyes and long, white silver hair that reaches her waist. She has a thin face with defined cheekbones and noticeable dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. She is very sickly looking to the point she almost looks breakable, when she wears all white, many people comment how ghostly she looks. She is considered to have inherited her mother's beauty.
*Picture at the end of the character sheet.
District: Merchant.
Why are they in Prison?: Said to have bitten a man to death, though it was actually a guard dog that came to protect her. She took the blame by slitting the corpse's throat so the dog wouldn't have to be put down.
Family: Jade Fuji. Mother, (Deceased). Kier Albescu. Father, (Deceased).
Personality: Isadora is very shy and gentle, very frightened around people she doesn't know very well and is naive to the point where she could easily be taken advantage of. She is usually always polite and it is extremely hard to make her angry, however she can let emotions get the best of her, especially when it deals with someone close to her (usually animals). She is a very emotional, sensitive person and is known to cry easily. While she is weak physically, her spirit is strong and her will nearly unbreakable.
History: Isadora was born on December 24, 2075 to Jade Fuji and Kier Albescu, a well off man from a high standing family in the Capital District of Asbasta, while Jade was from a lower standing family of undertakers from Japan. Kier became immediately entranced by Jade's unearthly beauty, and despite her social standing, married her quickly against his family's wishes. The marriage was finalized, however, Jade was never accepted by Kier's family even after her untimely death. Isadora was more accepted than her mother into Kier's family, however they always claimed her to be the spawn of the Japanese fairy that stole away Kier's heart and sanity. When Isadora was only five, Kier died in a mysterious accident which many believe was an assassination, leaving Jade a widow and Isa without her father. After Kier's death, Jade slowly became ill and heavily depressed over loosing her husband to the point that she eventually died from a weaken body and a broken heart, leaving Isa alone in the world. She was then taken in by the family who didn't love her as her parents had, forcing her to become an elite aristocrat by training her past her limits and soon Isa became well known in the higher class circles as the foreign beauty that would make a lovely wife for any upper class man in the Capital. Despite the living the picture of a perfect life, Isa's was anything but. She was harassed by her family to quickly marry against her will, despite forcing away any man that they tried to pair her with, however one day she was paired with a man who wouldn't easily be pushed away. Tried to take advantage of her only to have Isa's loyal guard dog attack him viciously and kill him, afraid of what may become of her only friend, Isa took the blame for the murder and was set to prison... Despite the fact that her family could easily pay her bail. However, they had refused to do so due to the fact that they could lose their social standing, leaving Isa with a harden heart and a horrible disposition on life as she was left to rot in prison alone.
Sample RP: Isa gasped as her dog released the man's throat, blood dripping from his teeth as he wagged his tail. She rushed over to the man's body, trying to see what sort of damage had been done, punctured holes lined his throat as blood trickled from the wounds. She started shaking uncontrollably in fear, she knew her uncle would soon return to check on them, she started crying, muttering under her breath that everything was going to be alright as she ruffled her dog's ears, kissing the dog's head and she tried to hold back her sobs. Getting up on her feet, she went over to her dresser to retrieve a pair of scissors before kneeling down before the corpse, her hands were shaking as she made a slit in the throat, trying not to choke or gasp out a sob as she did so. Isa pulled back her hair with a bloodied hand as she admired her work, hopefully... Hopefully this would be believable. She nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned towards the door, her eyes wide and full of tears as she saw her uncle staring at the scene with horror and disgust.
"I'm sorry..." She whispered as tears ran down her face. "I'm so sorry..."
Password: Cheesecake, which is actually a pie if you want to get technical.
Misc: Will come out as the roleplay progresses.
*Picture</s>
<|message|>Vladimír Zahrádka
Vladimír Zahrádka
---
The echoes of block C-4 bounced off the concrete, brick walls of Vladimirs cell on the night of November 8th, 2094. In the deep reaches of the block a man could be heard whimpering cries of, "I didn't do it." repeated over again in an endless rhythm of meditation, accompanied by the sound of his steps shuffling in circles around his cell. Over and over again as if reciting an maddening poem of self-denial. Some cells closer in a man was smacking something against the wall, something soft like a pillow while whimpering under his breath in unintelligible gibberish. Across from that man sat an older gentleman who had spent many years in the prison and was watching the man with the pillow cooing and muttering words of interest towards him such as, "Man, I can't wait until I get you alone in the shower." and "Keep flexing those muscles like that for me, Baby." The movements bouncing under the seems of his jumpsuit left no room for imagination as to what the man was doing with the hand tucked away beneath his provided garb. This was Vladimir's nightly chorus, accompanied by the many thoughts coursing through his head. Thoughts of regrets, of hope and of inventions.
Sweat dropped down the cresses of his cheeks as he released his energy doing push-ups against his cell floor. This nightly workout was Vladimirs routine, he had developed it over the course of the 6 months he had already spent within the prison. His arms, chest, abs and legs stayed strong beneath the stretches of fabric that marked him as a prisoner. Release the energy so the maddening thoughts of the death of his brother don't resurface and keep him up most of the night.
Vladimir's cell parter was named Poval, he was also a Czech and was sent to prison for the rape of an adolescent. Poval approached Vladimir on his first night within the prison for some friendly welcoming and was greeted in return the a broken nose, a spit in the face and a sharp knee in the balls. Poval never bothered Vladimir again, they never spoke to one another, never discussed things, never looked at each other and never acknowledged the others presence unless absolutely necessary.
The lights of the cell block flickered as they often did when new prisoners were arriving. Vladimir stood up with an exhale and laid in his bed, one tattooed arm laying across his glistening forehead as he imagined what kind of new comers they were receiving, what had they done, why were they there, what caused them to delve down the path they did. He closed his eyes for an instance in his thoughts watching the final flickers of the light through his eyes lids. The sounds of a cell block door opening quickly caused his eyes to beam open. It wasn't his cell door it was one deeper down the line.
The man walking in circles stopped muttering for a moment the sounds of his shuffles scrambling as if he was in a scuffle, the sudden yell of "I didn't do it!" quickly bounced it's way into Vladimirs cell along with the blood curdling wail of the man screaming in pain. "I didn't do it!" he screamed again, pained. "Shut the fuck up you filth!" came the familiar voice of the cell block guard, accompanied by the sound something hard hitting flesh and another scream from the prisoner. The door slammed shut again with laughter echoing from the lips of the cell guard in unison with the sobs of the man he had just assaulted.
Vladimir shook his head in disgust, his arm now covering his brown eyes as the lights with a loud thud, shut off leaving only the dim emergency lights high up on the ceiling on otherwise leaving them in pitch darkness. His eyes closed, the name 'Zdeněk' echoing in the far reaching corners of his mind as he fell asleep.</s>
<|message|>Aaron Yuuto Kasamatsu
Aaron Yuuto Kasamatsu
---
They say that the beginning of life in prison, that moment of terrifying realization of being conscious that you were locked up for good was when the cold, cell doors of the prison slammed home. Aaron began to know that feeling the instant they did. It was a familiar, and so very miserable memory that he had almost long forgotten since his youth and now that he was in here alone, he would have to get used to living here for whatever the life sentences were worth, but for the love of him, he could not figure out as to why he was caught more importantly how before those big doors slammed shut. When they did, it almost seemed not to matter anymore for Aaron, for he knew he had been screwed and this time, hard. Once in Asbasta, always in Asbasta, as his holding cell roommates told him and for the rest of his life, F-2B would have be his home. His bastion of what comfort and warmth would have to look like.
Though in reality, the cell was awfully cold, small, and dark, anything but homely. "Thus are the consequences of a hard life" as someone once told him and those words were the all too true, a small string of advice one man could, no should keep in his head and prepare himself for the worst adversary a man could face. Heeding this advice, Aaron finally absorbed the truth of his predicament he had gotten into and swallowed that fiery red pill hard down his dry esophagus. For the time being, Aaron kept himself quiet, he knew exactly what the first day of prison would be like and from the sounds of it, the new inmates were all the more excited to meet their new 'friends' who were fortunate enough to find themselves here.
Vocal abuse was thrown around, all towards him and Aaron sat in his cell bed, thinking of what do to the moment the morning would rise the next day, if he could only tell in this dark city under the sea though that did not stop him from listening. There were men groping themselves quite audibly, almost were you would see for yourself the disgusting sight of a desperate man reliving his empty other half in his cell. He'd rather not think about it at the moment and tried to force himself not to, survival was all the most crucial right now and figuring out how he was going to was survive is what exasperated his mind. Underground prison was different from surface prisons, not to mention under the sea. There weren't very obvious racial divisions as there were in the surface as he heard, only opportunistic scum who sought to find the best men they could to join their social circles. Though many men who have been the victims of racial prejudice would find this notion as somewhat comforting, it was not as mitigating as it sounded in reality- not even in the slightest. Some may have called it worse, though Aaron for the time being could not say for himself.
It was after five minutes that Aaron could realize how much prison could turn a man insane as he did in juvenile hall. Prison life crept into you like moss on still stones, nothing to stop the consummation of having all the time in the world and doing nothing with it, only to think and Aaron thanked God for that in the least, assuming God would forgive him for his life of crime. For the time being, Aaron needed to prove himself as a worthy person of interest in this prison. None knew his name here as nobody as so much as called him by his street name. Life under the sea was a life isolated from the rest of the world, though maybe someone would hear of him, he was certain of this as he was a hitman who's name was quite popular among underworld criminals. Though when he could make potential allies was unclear. Only time would tell. As time passed, Aaron laid on his mattress and rested his eyes until he began to fall out of his world of arduousness.</s>
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<|message|>Isadora Albescu Fuji
After her arrest, Isa had been basically numb and now that she had arrived in Ironwell, her expression and emotions really hadn't changed. Even after getting the entire speech from the officers did little to change how she felt as she was hauled away down to the C-block. The chains on her handcuffs rattled loudly as she slowly made her way down to her new home of sorts, she couldn't really walk like she normally could due to the fact that the handcuffs were made of extremely heavy metal and with her petite frame, it was nearly unbearable to hold up her arms normally. The more she moved, the heavier the cuffs seemed to weigh, she felt that if she even leaned over to far, she would be sent tumbling forward. She was basically dragging herself forward when they reached C-block and was forced into a cell, she winced as the creaky iron door slammed behind her.
Isa started wildly glancing around the cell as her heart rate started to climb. All of the sudden her stomach sank as she was hit with the hard realization of where she was and why this was happening. She choked as she fell to her knees as she tried to repress her sobs. Everything had quickly gotten too real, that she was being considered a murderer, that she would most likely spend the rest of her life trapped in this dank, depressing cell. It was almost too much to handle as she lifted her head slightly to look at the ceiling before starting to wail out madly. The echoes of her voice rattled the block, allowing both officers and cellmate to hear her horrid anguish, some of the more harden officers shivered, never hearing such a disturbing sound in their lives. It probably didn't help that Isa was one of the younger cellmates, not to mention one of the more fragile cellmates that they have seen. However, they shrugged it off that no matter who came in her or what they looked like, a murderer was a murderer. There was no excuse for their crime and it was a cold, hard burden that was chained to them for the rest of their lives.
"I didn't do it, I didn't do it...!" She cried as emotions started to flood over her. She thought back to how her dog would be the one to blame if she hadn't slit that man's throat, however... Without her canine companion here by her side, the pain was basically unbearable as it came down to the fact that she was utterly alone. The pain only grew as she started shaking as she continued to cry out, even though it was becoming apparent that the only answer she would receive was, "Shut the fuck up in there!"
Eventually, her cries died down after she coughed hoarsely, choking on her tears as she forced herself up and hauled herself over on the cot, flopping down on it. She sniffled as she rubbed her face into the pillow, it was impossible to wipe her eyes with her hands due to the cuffs. She started curling up in herself as she closed her eyes, trying to forget where she was and what might happen to her. As her mind started to drift to sleep, she could remember playing with her dog in the open fields, chasing and laughing as they ran together.</s>
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<|description|>Amber
Amber
Basic Information
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Birth Date: 24/08
Race: Fae
Alignment: Neutral
Appearance
Hair Colour: Ginger
Eye Colour: Green
Face Shape: long, and soft-angled
Skin Tone: Pale
Height: 122 cm/4"0
Weight: 20 kg/44 lbs
Body Type: Slender and delicate
Natural Markings: None
Scar(s): None
Tattoo(s): None
Personality
3 Words: Curiosity, mischief,entertainment
Like(s): Pranks, peace and quiet, nature
Dislike(s): Being given orders
Want(s): Has no goals but is always looking for ways to entertain herself
Fear(s): Capture by humans
Favourite...
Colour(s): Green
Time of Day: Sunrise
Food: strawberries
Animal: Woodpecker
Place in Terra: Lake of Terra
Skills and Attributes
Skills
Special ablilty/ies: Amber can use her magic to enchant animals and grow plants to a degree, though she channels this magic through melodies played on pan pipes
Good at...: Puzzles, riddles, games of chess or similar mind games. She has a good mind for problem solving.
Bad at...: Anything remotely physical
Traits
Good Habit(s):Compassion. A strong moral compass, and a nurturing, motherly nature towards animals of the forest.
Bad Habit(s): Loves to prank and cause mischief. Shows no respect to any humani unless that respect is earned. She has a mean streak a mile long when roused.
History
The Past
Fae tend not to gather in towns or cities. At best, you get a very small village, but more commonly, one family will live by themselves in a secluded home in the woods, often to next to a stream or small lake. Fae grew up with one such family, and as is also customary for her species, moved out to find her own home and a mate when she was ten years old.
The ever-growing humani population, however, coupled with many neutral parties wishing to move away from the cities and form new, smaller settlements, made finding a mate or a quiet place to live difficult, however, and Amber took to doing typical Fae mischief like souring their milk, making their pets and livestock go wild again, steal tools, that kind of thing.
As she got older, she noticed that her magic was very weak for a Fae's, and if she ever tried really hard to force it to work, it would explode out of her and cause her harm. While she pondered this dilemma one day, she came across an elf child playing a set of pan pipes. Amber sat and listened to her for hours, and the elf would smile and play just for her. The two kept this relationship up for weeks. No words spoken, so greetings, just music. One day, the naturally curious Amber asked if she could play the pan pipes for a while. The elf girl happily agreed, and when Amber started to play, the plants around her started to grow.
Their relationship lasted for several years, and in that time the elf girl taught Amber how to play these pan pipes expertly, and even gave her them as a gift. But, one day, the elf girl disappeared, and in her place was an elf woman, who wanted to travel the world and see where adventure would take her, so she disappeared from Amber's life, leaving her alone once again.
The Present
Amber is now in her own adulthood and her search for a mate, or even others of her species, has proved fruitless thus far, though she still gains pleasure from the occasional prank. She is more mature now, however, and understands more that her actions sometimes cause harm, so her pranks have gotten less...mean than they used to be.
Amber has become reliant on the pan pipes as the vessel in which she can focus her magic, though it's not clear whether his has amplified or limited her magic power. What she does know is that she can no longer use magic without the focus of a melody, even though the extent of her magical power over plant growth and animal behavior is fairly weak compared to what many other Faes or Elves would be capable of. She is simply too scared to try magic without the pipes anymore.
Vania Lasslarin</s>
<|message|>Shertul the Unnatural. He outlived his family long ago. No more reason to keep his tribal name, outside of useless sentiment.
---
Shertul had barely gotten on his feet, and already another threatening white knight had appeared- in a flash of light and lightening, no less! How very Nephilim of him.
"By Alithe's wastes what do you think you were doing Fleshspinner? You should be dead!"
Shertul's counter was faster than the crack of a whip. "And you should show basic ethical sympathy, so I guess we're both disappointing."
But before the angel could grow any closer, he thought back again to the Crest on the farmgirl's thigh. Few Revenants would have stopped to save a suffering stranger, Fleshspinners included, unless... could it be because he was a Fleshspinner? Perhaps she hoped to earn instruction. There was always a vampire banging on the Monastery doors, asking to be granted the powers of Flesh, then leaving in disappointment when they discovered the decades of devotion that would be needed to prove them worthy. Shertul always wondered what they expected: was the Monastery just going to wave a magic wand, sprinkle some fairy dust and force new limbs to simply sprout from them?
Of course, this pretty little thing looked too young to be a Revenant. And too weak. He would question his teenage savior in time, if his life had any time left. For now, he but whispered. "I will always have gratitude for what you've done."
He nodded in the angel's direction. "I will distract him. But perhaps you run, marked of Alithe. No doubt, they'll slaughter you if that mark is seen. I'll find you another time, if I'm left alive." He spoke with an unintentional, semi-holy reverence.
Shertul took a wide, combative step to hide her from this newly appeared enemy's unwavering gaze. He was careful to disguise it as a natural movement- the sort made by any man bucking for a fight. A shade of endless black spilled slowly into his eyes. He relaxed his claws back to their full length... maybe just a bit further.
Yet before the bloodshed could properly begin, he had to at least try to talk his way out if it. There would be a bounty on his head if he ripped up two Nephilim.
He ignored the mage. He had heard of the abhorrent Kaezira, and knew that he was not worth words. But the new angel. He might have the decency to feel remorse.
First, Shertul spoke only to the crowd. "Do what Kaezira says. Go back to your homes. I am a monster, yes it's true, so flee before your valiant knights accidentally kill half of you on the way to me!"
The crowd moved back only a few yards. I suppose we'll have an audience today.
Then he turned a pinning gaze to the second Nephilim, the teleporting one. The Fleshspinner's words were an assassin's daggers: quick, sharp and coated in poisonous accusation. "A Nephilim, of course! Who else could find such evil in themselves to speak insults to a near-dead man? I foolishly believed those in my Monastery were exaggerating, when they warned me of how cruel Raziel's followers were. My misguided friend even risked arguing to them on your behalf." His tongue became wet with hate. "I'm sorry to see... they were truthful all along."
He took a gasping breath, and continued before the fool could interrupt him.
"What, are you feeling sorry for yourself? That you had to come check a gate and threaten murder against me, a neutral man who has never harmed a soul that did not first harm him?" He gestured to the hand that glowed ever so faintly of Blinding Light. "I just had every part of my body thrown into a level of agony that I don't think you could even begin to understand. But yes, poor you, having to accost a dying traveler." Shertul twirled both his right arms into a mocking bow. "You are clearly the victim here. I'm sorry my torture ruined your day."
---
In her decades of life, Windleaf had never once felt more confused. This... this thing was dying only moments before. But now it was up on it's feet in an instant, speaking calmly to the kind girl who had struggled desperately to rescue it. Everything about it- it's all-too-fluent motions, it's appearance, the ease in which it changed itself- screamed to the her soul that it was not of nature. Some twisted work of magic, no doubt.
She felt a pang of guilt, knowing centaurs may be just the same.
Even so. Sutagara believed herself to be a servant of nature, first and foremost before all other obligations. She heard the mage shouting, and if he spoke the truth, it was Windleaf's honor-bound duty to slay the abomination. The Nephilim still held some respect in her eyes. Granted, their laws often spawned civilization spreading like disease into the beauty of forests, yet Raziel was the very one who held Waste at bay.
"Begone, people! Do you have any business monster-slaying?"
The pride of a warrior painted her tone. "I do." She drew her heavy blade in a light motion.
In the end, if the worst comes, the centaur will stand with the angels.</s>
<|message|>Carlisle Corvus. Better known as Crow.
"And you should show basic ethical sympathy, so I guess we're both disappointing."
Carlisle felt every muscle in his body tense light taught steel cable, the muscles and veins along his body pronouncing and forming like marbled stone. Lacking of ethical sympathy? How..could.. He steadied his breath, this was just another day. Some core part of Crow's training, literally formed within his genetic code, flipped as the arch-mage asked whether he carried his Braidh. Unlike the old academic, leaving his Braidh would be like leaving an arm. His fingers trailed just across the Pummel as the Fleshspinner spoke to the somehow-wrong farmgirl.
Then the creature slid into a steady but well disguised stance, forming before the girl in a protective manner. Carlisle's eyes narrowed like a hawk, his feet sliding across the ground to match without a muscle losing tension. Who was the girl? Cogs spun within his mind and some deep intuition screamed of the dark and Crow let his silver flecked eyes flick to the girl just visable over Shertul's shoulder. But before any more connections to be made the creature began again, apparently attempting to send the civillians back to their homes. This was enough to give the Nephilim pause only to be taken immediately by a barrating speech as much to himself as to the crowd. The creature spun such words of passive hate against him that it struck Carlisle so dumb he actually blinked which might not seem like much but to the battletrained as he, blinking had to be timed and perfect.
"You are clearly the victim here. I'm sorry my torture ruined your day."
Each and every rune spattered across the Nephilim's body flared with silvery light. From his peripheral vision Crow could see the crowd warming to the fleshspinner's speech, eyes filling with bile as they turned on him. Before he could stop himself, his hand had reached the Braidh at his time. The length shimmered with brilliant light, the form melting and reforming down to the binding silvery chain that near all feared and children's tales had been spun. "How..DARE.. you", his voice boomed backed by his bloodline's power. It filled the area not only to Shertul but as if addressed to the despising onlookers as he cast his gaze around to each of them "Not five hours ago I nearly lost a brother, nay, may still lose a brother! Not by lording it over a neutral, but by finding a cult trying to sacrifice YOUR. PEOPLE! Neutrals! To try gain some twisted favor from Alithe's wastes! Maybe your memories are too short but I assure you mine is not and it has always been this way". Carlisle lifted his shirt enough to show the lattice of age old scars and the freshest from earlier that day finally forming into fresh silver lines through the brilliance of the lit healing rune fueled by his anger. As the shirt fell he rounded back on the fleshspinner, "So don't you dare twist my purpose. You took no heed of the pillars that hold the chaos at bay at the small price of inconvenience, calling me as if the city were under attack. You were the one to choose your path of flesh magic, Edging as close to the darkness that consumed the world and thousands of my brothers and sisters without actually being so that the insult is unbearable!". Crow took a couple slow measured steps forward, the now blazing chain scorching the cobbled stone but paused dead in his tracks. He had caught sight of the farmgirl that Shertul protect, a wide eyed fear in her eyes. In an instant, like an electric shock, he was thrown back into memory with a girl not much younger than she mirroring the same look. He saw the light burst from behind her eyes by his very hand and the slackened body hit the ground lifeless with such a sound you could never imagine. Crow blinked but as many times as he tried, the girls eyes and the farm girl's would not separate. With a shaky breath, the glowing runes faded along with the Angelic fury exhuding from him. The chain went slack as the weary look crept back across his face with a voice to match it "Just...go".</s>
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<|message|>Amber
Amber watched as the onion was crushed, wincing a little. "Aw, you didn't have to destroy it! I could have tried at on somebody else!" she whined, before kicking her feet, and starting to walk away, when she heard him growl. She pieced it together, and knew why this man seemed familiar, where she'd sensed him before. With fear and curiosity, she got closer.
"Are you a wolf?" she whispered. "I'm positive I watched you kill a man in the woods, but you were but a beast!" She sniffed at him, but he was definitely a man, albeit one who had spilled blood recently.. How strange! Was this magic? No, it couldn't be! Her magic wasn't working so why should his be? "How do you do it?" She asked. "It can't be magic, so how is that possible?"
As she did this, her hands were running up and down her pan pipes, almost as if she was getting ready to play it, but there was also a nervous security about the movements, reminiscent of a man's hand on hos sword hilt. Were these pan pipes her weapon? She looked down and noticed what her idle hands were doing, and stopped, slipping the pipes back into her dress.</s>
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<|description|>Alexis Halliwell
Race: Kobold
Age: Adult
Health roll 15
Gold: 2000
Attributes:
You are not a elf. You are a kobold. You lied about being a elf.
You arent getting any new gold after this.
You will not lose gold or any of the treasures or spells gained up to this point.
But you will get the bonus of Kobolds.
From now on you always roll two d20 instead of one.
You cannot be the first person who atacks, you will either act on someone order, or in self defence. You may pick someone who you will say that you are following them.
Appearance:
Credit: All the credit goes to wonderful artist/author (whoever he/she/they is/are), not me.
Accessories:
Personality & Bio
Alexis never told a lie. She claims - Honesty is the best policy.
Just because she follows others, it doesn't mean that she lacks confidence, it just means that she doesn't want to impose her superior skills on others.
She once single handedly saved a whole family of Dwarfs from certain death, and made peace between two Elfs, who were fighting for the last thousand years.
Abilities:
Class: Sorcerer
You can teleport once a day or once after a power nap.
You can use it as a shield, imagine it along the bubble shields. It can be broken by a powerful or magic canceling attack.
When you use this abilty and hit someone they have to move at least 3 spaces away or you can use this abilty again at the same person.
Thressures:</s>
<|message|>Alexis Halliwell
I'm so happy we have a new case, I love to solve mysteries, but this long carriage ride is the most uncomfortable ride ever.
"Wasn't that the most comfortable journey ever?" Alexis asked Mortha, with a big grin on her face.
I decided to look around once more before ringing the bell, I didn't want to miss something that could be useful later in the investigation.
Look outside roll 11</s>
<|message|>Killy and Deathy
Alexis noticed two things:
-The mansion was massive.
-There were no other footsteps beside her own and the footsteps from the front door to the raven tower and back.</s>
<|message|>Mortha Grail
As she stepped out of the carriage, Mortha went straight to the nearby snow. With a gesture and a thought from the Puppeteer, the snow began to gather and solidify into a Frost Elemental.
"Translate for me, please." Mortha told it in a bright, slightly too loud voice, before using her teeth to remove the puffy pink glove off her right hand. Stuffing that into her pocket, it seemed she summoned her translator just in time to catch what Alexis said. The Elemental hummed and vibrated in short bursts, cold waves wafting off of him. With the combination of ground tremors it was causing, and the degree of cold she felt, Mortha could relatively easily understand speech.
"Oh, I'm sure Twenty-Jay didn't mean to force us into a two-day drive. He must really care about this friend of his." She said with a smile as she walked up to her luggage. The hot pink travel bag, with an adorable kitten logo plastered over its front, clashed against the white all around them. Mortha shuddered deeper into her icy-green winter coat, puffed out a breath of white mist, and went for the door, travel bag in tow.
After a moment of hesitation, she pressed on the doorbell.</s>
<|message|>Killy and Deathy
@Magic
The doorbell rung, and yet the door wasnt opened in the same instance. It would take a few minutes until the unlocking could be heard. It slowly opened and one would have to look down to notice the pair of elf girls who were responsible for opening the door. Thougth they appeared to be young children with elfs one could never tell. They could as well be old as the world itself, or they were truly just young elf children. They stared up at the people on the doorstep.
"Are you the one whose father friend send?" Asked the elf girl with white hair.
"Father is being screamed on by papa." Added the other girl with black hair.
"Our mommy is..."
"...with daddy. Who is as well..."
"...Angry at father."
The girls finished each other's sentences and in a unnatural syhcronositaion tilted their heads. Their motion matched up as if there was a mirror between them. Both were dressed up in a dresses, the two colors black and red were dominate in what they wore. They stepped aside Invitingly gesturing for the travelers to enter in the mansion.
"Please come"
"Inside!"
Once inside the lobby, one could notice it was massive and impressive. It was a big room with white ceiling and white magic fireballs floating close to it giving a nice light off. The walls were decorated just like the floor. Everything in the lobby was there to impress. But even with the breathtaking elements there were elements that proved it was actually used. Several coats of all sizes hung along the wall. Under each coat a pair of shoes, sometimes two. On the right and left size of the room two matching murals were covering the whole wall. Depicting the dragon aspects of the world.
"Put your travel coats and shoes right there."
"Try not to trip and break open your head. And over there are the house shoes you can wear while inside."
"Make sure your dont fall chest first into a sword as well. And your guest room..."
"Is on the first floor...Or fall to your death off the balcony while sleepwalking. "
"Father wanted you to settle in the guest room first."
The twin girls spoke pointing to the wall with the coats and two pairs of woolly purple house shoes intended for the guests. The skipped to stand in front of the door that lead from the lobby deeper into the house. Leaning on the heavy but elegantly carved wooden doors they smiled silently awaiting any form of question the mystery busters may have or to lead them on. They looked cheerful nearly.
---
Achievement unlocked:
1. XXXXX
2. XXXXX
3. XXXXX
4. XXXXX
5. XXXXX
6. XXXXX
7. XXXXX
8. XXXXX
9. XXXXX
10. XXXXX
11. XXXXX
12. Entrance and lobby
First seen: here
13. XXXXX
14. XXXXX
15. XXXXX
16. XXXXX
17. XXXXX
18. Bathroom
19. XXXXX
20. Bathroom
21. XXXXX
22. XXXXX
23. XXXXX
24. XXXXX
25. XXXXX</s>
<|message|>Alexis Halliwell
Great, just great. Just what I needed, twins sociopaths. Lunatic children, although they could be old, you never know with elves, and they accuse us kobolds of being liars. Hypocrites. I just need to be calm and keep my expresion neutral, can't let them smell fear.
"Hello, yes we were sent by the Mystery busters service. My name is Alexis Halliwell, and this is my brilliant partner Mortha Grail." I gently nudge Mortha forward. "My partner here would like to ask you a few questions."
I took of my grey coat and grey boots. I stood there clutching my navy-blue luggage wearing purple shoes, and decided to chek out two maching murals and the wall with coats, shoes and other items.
Look at murals 9
Look at coats, shoes and other stuff 1</s>
<|message|>Mortha Grail
Mortha shuffled in, grateful to be out of the cold. Her translator followed at her heels, almost tripping over the pink luggage a time or two. As the ice construct followed, he began to translate for the little girls. What surprised Mortha was that he translated only one string of sentences, but she saw both girls talking in turn. And right off the bat what she was "hearing" concerned her. It seemed there was a conflict in the house, so much so that the girls readily warned any visitors of various dangers in it. Just how dangerous was this house, exactly?
Mortha blinked with a little squeak as she was nudged forward by her partner. Well, it seemed she was getting herself promoted from a coffee-fetcher to a full-blown detective and thrown into the fray to boot. Miss Grail put on her brightest smile as she crouched to be eye-level with the girls.
"Hi! I'm Mortha. What're your names?" She said, almost hesitantly. "Uh, before we hang up our coats and settle in, would you mind leading us to your father first? I don't feel comfortable settling in while he's being screamed at. Why is he in trouble, by the way?"
She said, and tried ruffling one of the girls' hair in an idle gesture. "And... Why all the warnings, girls? Is the house really that dangerous?"</s>
<|message|>Killy and Deathy
@Magic
"Hi! I'm Mortha. What're your names?Uh, before we hang up our coats and settle in, would you mind leading us to your father first? I don't feel comfortable settling in while he's being screamed at. Why is he in trouble, by the way?"
Asked the nice looking dwarf the twins who beamed and introduced themself.
"I am Killy and this is..."
"Deathy. Our father named us."
"About taking him to him..."
"He will come to you in the guest room."
"Mhm, we can tell him that you arrived. So everyone can talk with you."
The girls looked at each other, debating in looks if they should answer the question or not. Nodding in a silent argument.
"Well... papa is stressed."
"When Papa is stressed, he mentions Owlaker..." It appeared that was as much as the girls would say about it. Mortha ruffled the hair of the white haired girl on the right who hummed a low melody at the touch. Her sister filled in the answer to the question. "Are you aware how many accidents happens while at home?"
"There are statistics about it and all."
"Its a lot."
"Seriously lot."
"Criminally lot."
"Otherworldly lot."
"Hauntingly lot."
After Alexis took off her boots and coat she went down the lobby up to one mural. She tried to inspect it, she noticed that they were well taken care off, someone must have regularly cleaned and polished them. Her eyes wandered over the dragons, she knew this were the dragons of creation. But she always failed to remember what were their names. They were something long and complicating sounding. Each dragon had a element they favorited. Thinking for a bit she could only remember 3 out of 6, which were fire, arcane and earth. Giving up on watching the mural she casually walked over to the courts, not bothering to count them and find out how many people lived in the house, instead Alexis observed a pair of really nice looking leather boots.
Just as Alexis moved a bit closer something squeaked in surprise, out each of the boots jumped a small hatrat.
The hatrat with a red glowing aura took off its hat and a spell was casted from the hat. 3 But instead of anything happening, the hat turned into red smoke disappearing, the rat winced in a sound akin to embarrassment.
The hatrat with blue glow stood on its back legs and theatrically taking off the hat, casting a spell aiming at Alexis eyes. 17 It worked quite well, as out the hat 17 small arcane missiles fly out going everywhere.
Alexis received 8 missiles into her face and eyes, each feeling like a pointy stab with a angry long needle, leaving burns behind. That would hurt quite a bit without treatment.
Four missiles went towards the twins who tried to jump out the way, used to the antics of those pests. The twin with black hair who stood left jumped under a close by chair avoiding it 15, but her sister, was much less lucky receiving two into her shoulder4. She winced out loudly.
One missile spinned out of control hitting the red hatrat, killing it with a small colorful explosion of magic.
The last 4 missiles went towards Mortha.</s>
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<|message|>Alexis Halliwell
I'm disoriented and in pain from the hits and should probably go see the doctor as soon as possible, but from the corner of my eye I barely see four missiles heading towards Mortha. I panic and try to put up a shield to try to protect her from the missiles. I actually like my new partner and I wouldn't want her to get hurt on her first case.
My shield 13</s>
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<|description|>Alexis Halliwell
Race: Kobold
Age: Adult
Health roll 15
Gold: 2000
Attributes:
You are not a elf. You are a kobold. You lied about being a elf.
You arent getting any new gold after this.
You will not lose gold or any of the treasures or spells gained up to this point.
But you will get the bonus of Kobolds.
From now on you always roll two d20 instead of one.
You cannot be the first person who atacks, you will either act on someone order, or in self defence. You may pick someone who you will say that you are following them.
Appearance:
Credit: All the credit goes to wonderful artist/author (whoever he/she/they is/are), not me.
Accessories:
Personality & Bio
Alexis never told a lie. She claims - Honesty is the best policy.
Just because she follows others, it doesn't mean that she lacks confidence, it just means that she doesn't want to impose her superior skills on others.
She once single handedly saved a whole family of Dwarfs from certain death, and made peace between two Elfs, who were fighting for the last thousand years.
Abilities:
Class: Sorcerer
You can teleport once a day or once after a power nap.
You can use it as a shield, imagine it along the bubble shields. It can be broken by a powerful or magic canceling attack.
When you use this abilty and hit someone they have to move at least 3 spaces away or you can use this abilty again at the same person.
Thressures:</s>
<|message|>Alexis Halliwell
In pain and almost blind I try to avoid when the doctor of the house tries to grab me. If dr Clementine is always this gentle with her patients I'm afraid for our health in this house. We really should try and solve this case as soon as possible.
"Hello dr Clementine. My name is Alexis Halliwell and that was my partner Mortha Grail. We were sent by the Mystery busters service. Could you tell me how long have you worked here?"
Avoiding being grabbed 1</s>
<|message|>Mortha Grail
@Magic
Mortha stood up cautiously, patting dust off her coat with her good arm. She looked to where the hatrat used to be, then back to the girls. One of them seemed to be bleeding, but before Mortha could try to help with that, two more people stepped into the room.
"Oh dear." Mortha said as the doctor smacked the poor maid over the head with the pistol. She was about to protest, when the woman just went forth to grab her partner by her ear.
"Uh... Hello." She said to the maid. "Wait, one second!" She added, and proceeded to take off her coat in quick, practiced movements. So much so, that her artificial arm remained attached through the whole thing.
She then handed the coat to Aniketos. "Thank you! You're very kind. I better catch up with the rest." The tall dwarf said, bowing slightly to him before she went after Lilly, Alexis and the girls.</s>
<|message|>Killy and Deathy
@Magic
Alexis asked a question and just as the words left her mount she realized her mistake. This was a not simple a rude doctor, Lilly was a born leader and was filled with so much confidence, that when she looked down at the Kobold. Alexis knew this woman was what one would describe as alpha. Alexis didnt resist as her ear was grabbed and making herself as small as possible followed hastily where the good doc was dragging her. Making sure she was staring at her feet, at least as much she could see her feet. Alexis was completely aware she wouldnt be able to speak to this doctor if not previously spoken to. Of course she could always ask Mortha to do it for her.
Meanwhile Aniketos took the coat from Mortha and tripping over his feet put it up alongside all the other jackets and coats on the wall. He hurried back carrying the bags. "Ah, I am sorry. Lilly worked here for three years only, I grow up here. I hope it answer your question. I am sorry... for... you see..."
The group entered the hearth of the mansion. A enormous open space, light with magical lights high above their heads. One could look up and see the first floor hallway separated with a railing. Looking directly up, one could observe another painting covering the ceiling. It was a sky filled with magic. Gold was everywhere and it all but looked as if it was flowing down the pillars that were giving the space the feeling of grand. Thought on one spot if looked carefully enough one could think there were fish swimming around. Or maybe the magical light was playing tricks. One of those two.
The space was big enough to put a theater/performance hall inside and still have some extra room to spare. Walking on the floor didnt made any sound like one await from walking on stone. The floor was as well a clean white color, everywhere but around the middle. There a wall of purple crystal was surrounding something. Protecting it from outside influences. Surrounding something that was laying there from all sided and the top.
The people walking with the mystery buster didnt even look in the direction of the half see thought crystal. The maid was shaking, gripping the handles of the bags with all his might. The twins moved closer to each other and were slightly fidgeted. Lilly step became faster and more strict. What ever was encased by the crystal was affecting the inhabitants of the mansion. The doctor lead them into one room (GM note: discovered room 5), while the maid all but run onward and up the stairs. Presumably to put the bags down in the guest room.
The room was a medical bay with eight beds. It looked exactly like any other medical bay would look. Deathy jumped and sat on one bed, while the doctor all but planted Alexis on the bed. Without a word she started touching the kobolds face and examining her. Lilly hand started to glow white. 12 In matter of moments Alexis was completely restored. The pain melted away, her eyes returned to their former glory.
"Done. You are free to go." She declared and turned towards Deathy and Killy who was standing beside her sister.12 Once more it appeared as if the magic was a success and healing the kid. "Done.You are free to go."
It was then she turned towards Mortha and eyed her. The doctor skilled eye noticed the false arm, and the help from the ice elemental. She assumed those wounds to be war scars and that the fragile looking thing is the leader of group. Because in the tall dwarf mind the kobold she just healed couldnt be possible a leader in anything. So she spoke to Mortha from one tall dwarf to another.
"To make something clear. I didnt do it. I had no reason to do it. He was a annoyance with several cups missing in his head, and I would gladly shot him or punch him. But I would never go so far as to do that to him. So do not annoy me, and dont get in my way. Are we clear?" Lilly hands were caressing the gun that was resting on her hips.</s>
<|message|>Alexis Halliwell
I sigh with relief at being able to see again. Stupid case, it's going to get us killed. If I understood correctly, according to what dr bully said 'He was a annoyance...', a certain "he" is no longer with us. I look at Mortha hoping she will inquire more about who this "he" is.</s>
<|message|>Mortha Grail
@Magic
Mortha stepped into the medical bay, and watched with relief as the doctor tended her partner and Deathy. Simple pests or not, the little hatrats did damage that cannot be ignored. It was no wonder the girls were obsessed with accidents.
But then the doctor turned to her, eyeing the fake arm. Mortha tried not to fidget where she stood, and mentally began preparing an explanation for her weak health. Every once in a while, people tended to fret over her fragile state, and it was something she had to explain time and time again. She was stable, and not in any immediate danger after all.
As she opened her mouth to speak, the doctor voiced a completely different train of thought. A thousand questions flooded the assistant-turned-detective's mind, until she could no longer hold them back.
"Did you just threaten me?" Was the question that won the race. Mortha's tone was incredulous. Why on earth would anyone threaten her, so out of the blue?
"And... Did you just admit you would shoot him? And you didn't do what to him, exactly? And who is 'him'?" She gave her kobold partner a glance, uncertain that this doctor really just threatened her.
"Please, keep your hands away from the gun. There's no need for further violence, ma'am. Tell us what happened." Mortha said, a sad yet hopeful expression on her face. What happened to this woman to make her so... jaded?</s>
<|message|>Killy and Deathy
@Magic
Lily annoyedly snorted and rolled her eyes. Threaten? They would know if she did such a thing, but till now? She considered herself to been polite. Then came the other questions and the woman tapped on her gun handle while sighing. Completely ignoring Mortha request to keep her hands away from the gun. Her body language clearly stating that will not happen anytime soon, without a fight.
"Who is him?...Tell you what happened? If we knew what happened you wouldnt even be here." She snapped, but her mood quickly deflated and she sighed and started to slowly walk up to Mortha and then by the tall dwarf stopping beside the door to the medical bay. With a thumb she pointed out the door and towards the purple crystal in the center of the massive room. "Thats him. Go look for yourself what happened. If you need a medical report on it... I will do it but the cause is pretty obvious. Armin will undo the preservation magic for a closer look, once Elliones allows it. So go talk to him, he was insistent to be the one explaning the situation to you bunch. He is Lady Anna husband his word is law after Laddy Annas that is."
At that the twins chipped in up till now silently sitting there looking at Alexis and occasionally waving at her in sync. Yet neither smiled, they simple looked like they were training in holding a poker face.
"Father wanted you two to..."
"... settle in the guest room first." Deathy slid off the medical bay, Killy never letting go of her sister hand.
"He will come to..."
"... you in the guest room."
"Maybe he is already..."
"...there waiting for you."
"He is real good at waiting."
"True. What do you..."
"...want us to do?" They looked between the three adults to settle they eyes on Alexis. Moving up beside her, staring at her. Indirectly telling that they wanted to follow the Mystery busters, or show them the way around.</s>
<|message|>Alexis Halliwell
Great, the twins are looking at me. Just great.
I put a small smile on my face and crouched to be eye-level with Deathy and Killy, such a lovely names.
"It would really help us alot if you two sweet angels could show us to our rooms so we can speak with your father." I said as I awkwardly padded each girl on the head. The sooner we talk with him the better.</s>
<|message|>Mortha Grail
@Magic
Mortha winced as the doctor snapped at her, keeping a hand on the gun despite the detective's request. Rude and hostile, she'd never ran into someone quite that unfriendly for no reason whatsoever. So, as the woman moved out of the medical bay, Mortha only managed to stare after her.
"Oh... kay." She said slowly, turning towards Alexis and the twins.
"I agree. Let's head to the guest room." She said, expression brightening into a smile. She nodded at the two girls, waiting on them to show the way.</s>
<|message|>Killy and Deathy
@Illyrianna
The twin hummed and holding hands walked up front. They were not as fast in leading their way across the open space. The heart of the mansion, but as they came close to the purple crystal, the twin steps speed a bit up aiming to reach the stairs across the big hall. But now that the Mystery busters were close enough they could make out what was the crystal preserving.
It was a body of a Kobold.
His rock fur was black, the body was laying on the floor on its back. The tail was swung the side and appeared as if went thougth a lot of things during its owner life. The hands and legs were resting close to the body. It would nearly appear as if the body was asllp. It if wasnt for the part that was missing. The head was nowhere to be noticed. The blood poodle from the neck was still glistening even if it was looking mostly dry in the light broken by the purple tint of the crystal.
There was the mystery for the mystery busters.
If neither of the professionals said or did anything the twins would lead them up to the first floor and into a room that was more like a apartment with kitchen, dining table, bedroom and bathroom. The guest room was empty. The twins would leave the mystery to themsel then allowing them to have a moment alone.
If thougth the mystery busters stopped, to look or question about the obviously headless kobold, they would stop in place and look down to their feet.</s>
<|message|>Alexis Halliwell
Poor Kobold. The sight is horrifying, no wonder they don't want to be anywhere near it. I decided to take another look at the body and see if I can spot anything unusual or important about the headless Kobold.
Look at the body of Kobold 10</s>
<|message|>Killy and Deathy
The purple crystal doesnt allow to gather any specific details. Alexis knew that the crystals would blurry whatever she sees a bit. She did noticed something small, maybe greyish, hard to tell because of the purple tint of the crystal, poking out of one of the pockets of the dead kobold. Yet, with the crystal in the way and preserving the crime scene Alexis wouldnt be able to do anything. The caster of it would have to undo the spell to allow full access to the body.</s>
<|message|>Mortha Grail
Mortha followed the twins dutifully, until she spotted her partner peering at the body. The tall dwarf checked where her ice translator was, saw that it was following as well, and then proceeded to address the kobold.
"What is it, Alex? Did you see something?"</s>
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<|message|>Alexis Halliwell
"Yes. There is something poking out of his pocket. It looks greyish, but it's hard to tell because of the crystal. Do you want to try and take a look, or should we head up to our room?" I hope Mortha can handle seeing the body, I'm not sure what her tolerance for gruesome sights may be.</s>
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<|description|>Mortha Grail
Race: Tall Dwarf
Age: Young Adult
Health roll 1
Gold: 100
Attributes:
You are not a elf by birth but were adopted by a elf. You can pick Between being born as dwarf (Tall dwarf - look like human, normal dwarf they are short, or Dvergr Dvergr they have stony skin, they can turn into a stone statue at will.) or as Kobold
You are deaf, but because of it you will be harder to hit. Anyone trying to hit you will have to roll higher to do so.
---
Appearance:
Credit: Melanie Delon
Mortha has always been a petite woman. Standing at 5' nothing with a slender frame, she often gives the impression that a slight breeze might just knock her over. Despite being a dwarf, the woman lacks their particular stocky stature, due to constant illnesses, and because she'd been raised by elves, many mistake her for an elven child. In rarer cases, she'd also been accused of Silver addiction, as it would very easily explain her youthful look and pale complexion. However, while she is frail and thin, she more than makes up for it in grace and with a smile that could melt hearts with its innocence.
As for clothing and style, the girl can be often found gushing over one pretty bauble or another, and her wardrobe reflects that as well. She is not a person with sensible fashion, wearing outfits of clashing colors that were put together without much thought, as long as the pieces looked pretty individually. In addition, she almost never wears clothing without a long, full, left sleeve, so it would hide the dummy wooden arm she has in place of a real, missing one.
Accessories:
Personality & Bio
Mortha was born to a pair of tall dwarves, a family that wasn't of much note or wealth, and with a history most would shudder from. Illness and madness runs in the girl's bloodline due to a curse, or so the stories say, though one particular member of her family confirmed that for Mortha. Her uncle, supposedly a man of great intellect, lost his mind a few years after she'd been born, and proceeded to try to murder the young girl, certain she was possessed by some evil that would enslave the world. He did this with a dark spell of his own, a curse that was supposed to kill Mortha and all the demons she allied herself with.
Thanks to a brave elf adventurer of the Grail family, the girl managed to escape, only losing an arm and her hearing in the process. Since then, her savior became her adoptive father, and an idol to look up to. Though she never could become a brave adventurer like him, it wasn't for lack of trying. She and her father clashed together plenty of times over this issue, and it wasn't until he allowed her to become a part of Mystery Busters detective agency, that she was content.
---
Abilities:
Class: Puppeteer;
Can only be used once a day, or after a power nap.
You have to have line of sight to posses the target.
You can use this abilty after each gm post once if in combat.
You can pull other character with you through the shadows if you hold their hand. (so ignore the chaos action part of the card) If they dont want to hold your hand then you cannot move them.
Outside combat use it how often you like. Just dont forget to roll for each use.
You can summon A frost elemental companion that last until it dies in combat, or a hour if out of combat.
Your frost elemental can do simple task, like fetch, hit, follow, make ice cubes for drinks, etc.
Your frost elemental can cast a ray of frost that can freeze things.
Your frost elemental can throw chunks of ice at targets.
After using this spell you have to recover for several rp minutes. During this time you cannot even move, even less protect yourself. Considering your healt roll is 1, if anything hits you during this time you will have to death roll.
Thressures:
Every time you hit something you aimed at, you can teleport 3 spaces around. It will be more risky if you are teleporting to a space out of your view.
It last for a few hours, it does not make you soundless. You have to roll to drink it.
How well you roll will determe how well you heal everyone
You will turn into a random character from the house Spinnersilk who also has a Silver Vampire Locket. Not all npc characters will have it. Once transformed you are playing with their skills set and personality as you are them.
Your creepy uncle is responsible for you missing one arm.
+1000 gold you can spend in the shop or keep.
You know you are sicky and just in case you have written your will for when you die. So any treasure you have on you at the moment of death will be given to the right person.
You may control a ally for several minutes, and they may resist you if they so wish. Both of you will have to roll. If you roll higher you can keep on/start controlling them. If they roll higher they have resisted you/broke away from your control.</s>
<|message|>Alexis Halliwell
I'm so happy we have a new case, I love to solve mysteries, but this long carriage ride is the most uncomfortable ride ever.
"Wasn't that the most comfortable journey ever?" Alexis asked Mortha, with a big grin on her face.
I decided to look around once more before ringing the bell, I didn't want to miss something that could be useful later in the investigation.
Look outside roll 11</s>
<|message|>Killy and Deathy
Alexis noticed two things:
-The mansion was massive.
-There were no other footsteps beside her own and the footsteps from the front door to the raven tower and back.</s>
<|message|>Mortha Grail
As she stepped out of the carriage, Mortha went straight to the nearby snow. With a gesture and a thought from the Puppeteer, the snow began to gather and solidify into a Frost Elemental.
"Translate for me, please." Mortha told it in a bright, slightly too loud voice, before using her teeth to remove the puffy pink glove off her right hand. Stuffing that into her pocket, it seemed she summoned her translator just in time to catch what Alexis said. The Elemental hummed and vibrated in short bursts, cold waves wafting off of him. With the combination of ground tremors it was causing, and the degree of cold she felt, Mortha could relatively easily understand speech.
"Oh, I'm sure Twenty-Jay didn't mean to force us into a two-day drive. He must really care about this friend of his." She said with a smile as she walked up to her luggage. The hot pink travel bag, with an adorable kitten logo plastered over its front, clashed against the white all around them. Mortha shuddered deeper into her icy-green winter coat, puffed out a breath of white mist, and went for the door, travel bag in tow.
After a moment of hesitation, she pressed on the doorbell.</s>
<|message|>Killy and Deathy
@Magic
The doorbell rung, and yet the door wasnt opened in the same instance. It would take a few minutes until the unlocking could be heard. It slowly opened and one would have to look down to notice the pair of elf girls who were responsible for opening the door. Thougth they appeared to be young children with elfs one could never tell. They could as well be old as the world itself, or they were truly just young elf children. They stared up at the people on the doorstep.
"Are you the one whose father friend send?" Asked the elf girl with white hair.
"Father is being screamed on by papa." Added the other girl with black hair.
"Our mommy is..."
"...with daddy. Who is as well..."
"...Angry at father."
The girls finished each other's sentences and in a unnatural syhcronositaion tilted their heads. Their motion matched up as if there was a mirror between them. Both were dressed up in a dresses, the two colors black and red were dominate in what they wore. They stepped aside Invitingly gesturing for the travelers to enter in the mansion.
"Please come"
"Inside!"
Once inside the lobby, one could notice it was massive and impressive. It was a big room with white ceiling and white magic fireballs floating close to it giving a nice light off. The walls were decorated just like the floor. Everything in the lobby was there to impress. But even with the breathtaking elements there were elements that proved it was actually used. Several coats of all sizes hung along the wall. Under each coat a pair of shoes, sometimes two. On the right and left size of the room two matching murals were covering the whole wall. Depicting the dragon aspects of the world.
"Put your travel coats and shoes right there."
"Try not to trip and break open your head. And over there are the house shoes you can wear while inside."
"Make sure your dont fall chest first into a sword as well. And your guest room..."
"Is on the first floor...Or fall to your death off the balcony while sleepwalking. "
"Father wanted you to settle in the guest room first."
The twin girls spoke pointing to the wall with the coats and two pairs of woolly purple house shoes intended for the guests. The skipped to stand in front of the door that lead from the lobby deeper into the house. Leaning on the heavy but elegantly carved wooden doors they smiled silently awaiting any form of question the mystery busters may have or to lead them on. They looked cheerful nearly.
---
Achievement unlocked:
1. XXXXX
2. XXXXX
3. XXXXX
4. XXXXX
5. XXXXX
6. XXXXX
7. XXXXX
8. XXXXX
9. XXXXX
10. XXXXX
11. XXXXX
12. Entrance and lobby
First seen: here
13. XXXXX
14. XXXXX
15. XXXXX
16. XXXXX
17. XXXXX
18. Bathroom
19. XXXXX
20. Bathroom
21. XXXXX
22. XXXXX
23. XXXXX
24. XXXXX
25. XXXXX</s>
<|message|>Alexis Halliwell
Great, just great. Just what I needed, twins sociopaths. Lunatic children, although they could be old, you never know with elves, and they accuse us kobolds of being liars. Hypocrites. I just need to be calm and keep my expresion neutral, can't let them smell fear.
"Hello, yes we were sent by the Mystery busters service. My name is Alexis Halliwell, and this is my brilliant partner Mortha Grail." I gently nudge Mortha forward. "My partner here would like to ask you a few questions."
I took of my grey coat and grey boots. I stood there clutching my navy-blue luggage wearing purple shoes, and decided to chek out two maching murals and the wall with coats, shoes and other items.
Look at murals 9
Look at coats, shoes and other stuff 1</s>
|
<|message|>Mortha Grail
Mortha shuffled in, grateful to be out of the cold. Her translator followed at her heels, almost tripping over the pink luggage a time or two. As the ice construct followed, he began to translate for the little girls. What surprised Mortha was that he translated only one string of sentences, but she saw both girls talking in turn. And right off the bat what she was "hearing" concerned her. It seemed there was a conflict in the house, so much so that the girls readily warned any visitors of various dangers in it. Just how dangerous was this house, exactly?
Mortha blinked with a little squeak as she was nudged forward by her partner. Well, it seemed she was getting herself promoted from a coffee-fetcher to a full-blown detective and thrown into the fray to boot. Miss Grail put on her brightest smile as she crouched to be eye-level with the girls.
"Hi! I'm Mortha. What're your names?" She said, almost hesitantly. "Uh, before we hang up our coats and settle in, would you mind leading us to your father first? I don't feel comfortable settling in while he's being screamed at. Why is he in trouble, by the way?"
She said, and tried ruffling one of the girls' hair in an idle gesture. "And... Why all the warnings, girls? Is the house really that dangerous?"</s>
|
<|description|>Mortha Grail
Race: Tall Dwarf
Age: Young Adult
Health roll 1
Gold: 100
Attributes:
You are not a elf by birth but were adopted by a elf. You can pick Between being born as dwarf (Tall dwarf - look like human, normal dwarf they are short, or Dvergr Dvergr they have stony skin, they can turn into a stone statue at will.) or as Kobold
You are deaf, but because of it you will be harder to hit. Anyone trying to hit you will have to roll higher to do so.
---
Appearance:
Credit: Melanie Delon
Mortha has always been a petite woman. Standing at 5' nothing with a slender frame, she often gives the impression that a slight breeze might just knock her over. Despite being a dwarf, the woman lacks their particular stocky stature, due to constant illnesses, and because she'd been raised by elves, many mistake her for an elven child. In rarer cases, she'd also been accused of Silver addiction, as it would very easily explain her youthful look and pale complexion. However, while she is frail and thin, she more than makes up for it in grace and with a smile that could melt hearts with its innocence.
As for clothing and style, the girl can be often found gushing over one pretty bauble or another, and her wardrobe reflects that as well. She is not a person with sensible fashion, wearing outfits of clashing colors that were put together without much thought, as long as the pieces looked pretty individually. In addition, she almost never wears clothing without a long, full, left sleeve, so it would hide the dummy wooden arm she has in place of a real, missing one.
Accessories:
Personality & Bio
Mortha was born to a pair of tall dwarves, a family that wasn't of much note or wealth, and with a history most would shudder from. Illness and madness runs in the girl's bloodline due to a curse, or so the stories say, though one particular member of her family confirmed that for Mortha. Her uncle, supposedly a man of great intellect, lost his mind a few years after she'd been born, and proceeded to try to murder the young girl, certain she was possessed by some evil that would enslave the world. He did this with a dark spell of his own, a curse that was supposed to kill Mortha and all the demons she allied herself with.
Thanks to a brave elf adventurer of the Grail family, the girl managed to escape, only losing an arm and her hearing in the process. Since then, her savior became her adoptive father, and an idol to look up to. Though she never could become a brave adventurer like him, it wasn't for lack of trying. She and her father clashed together plenty of times over this issue, and it wasn't until he allowed her to become a part of Mystery Busters detective agency, that she was content.
---
Abilities:
Class: Puppeteer;
Can only be used once a day, or after a power nap.
You have to have line of sight to posses the target.
You can use this abilty after each gm post once if in combat.
You can pull other character with you through the shadows if you hold their hand. (so ignore the chaos action part of the card) If they dont want to hold your hand then you cannot move them.
Outside combat use it how often you like. Just dont forget to roll for each use.
You can summon A frost elemental companion that last until it dies in combat, or a hour if out of combat.
Your frost elemental can do simple task, like fetch, hit, follow, make ice cubes for drinks, etc.
Your frost elemental can cast a ray of frost that can freeze things.
Your frost elemental can throw chunks of ice at targets.
After using this spell you have to recover for several rp minutes. During this time you cannot even move, even less protect yourself. Considering your healt roll is 1, if anything hits you during this time you will have to death roll.
Thressures:
Every time you hit something you aimed at, you can teleport 3 spaces around. It will be more risky if you are teleporting to a space out of your view.
It last for a few hours, it does not make you soundless. You have to roll to drink it.
How well you roll will determe how well you heal everyone
You will turn into a random character from the house Spinnersilk who also has a Silver Vampire Locket. Not all npc characters will have it. Once transformed you are playing with their skills set and personality as you are them.
Your creepy uncle is responsible for you missing one arm.
+1000 gold you can spend in the shop or keep.
You know you are sicky and just in case you have written your will for when you die. So any treasure you have on you at the moment of death will be given to the right person.
You may control a ally for several minutes, and they may resist you if they so wish. Both of you will have to roll. If you roll higher you can keep on/start controlling them. If they roll higher they have resisted you/broke away from your control.</s>
<|message|>Alexis Halliwell
I sigh with relief at being able to see again. Stupid case, it's going to get us killed. If I understood correctly, according to what dr bully said 'He was a annoyance...', a certain "he" is no longer with us. I look at Mortha hoping she will inquire more about who this "he" is.</s>
<|message|>Mortha Grail
@Magic
Mortha stepped into the medical bay, and watched with relief as the doctor tended her partner and Deathy. Simple pests or not, the little hatrats did damage that cannot be ignored. It was no wonder the girls were obsessed with accidents.
But then the doctor turned to her, eyeing the fake arm. Mortha tried not to fidget where she stood, and mentally began preparing an explanation for her weak health. Every once in a while, people tended to fret over her fragile state, and it was something she had to explain time and time again. She was stable, and not in any immediate danger after all.
As she opened her mouth to speak, the doctor voiced a completely different train of thought. A thousand questions flooded the assistant-turned-detective's mind, until she could no longer hold them back.
"Did you just threaten me?" Was the question that won the race. Mortha's tone was incredulous. Why on earth would anyone threaten her, so out of the blue?
"And... Did you just admit you would shoot him? And you didn't do what to him, exactly? And who is 'him'?" She gave her kobold partner a glance, uncertain that this doctor really just threatened her.
"Please, keep your hands away from the gun. There's no need for further violence, ma'am. Tell us what happened." Mortha said, a sad yet hopeful expression on her face. What happened to this woman to make her so... jaded?</s>
<|message|>Killy and Deathy
@Magic
Lily annoyedly snorted and rolled her eyes. Threaten? They would know if she did such a thing, but till now? She considered herself to been polite. Then came the other questions and the woman tapped on her gun handle while sighing. Completely ignoring Mortha request to keep her hands away from the gun. Her body language clearly stating that will not happen anytime soon, without a fight.
"Who is him?...Tell you what happened? If we knew what happened you wouldnt even be here." She snapped, but her mood quickly deflated and she sighed and started to slowly walk up to Mortha and then by the tall dwarf stopping beside the door to the medical bay. With a thumb she pointed out the door and towards the purple crystal in the center of the massive room. "Thats him. Go look for yourself what happened. If you need a medical report on it... I will do it but the cause is pretty obvious. Armin will undo the preservation magic for a closer look, once Elliones allows it. So go talk to him, he was insistent to be the one explaning the situation to you bunch. He is Lady Anna husband his word is law after Laddy Annas that is."
At that the twins chipped in up till now silently sitting there looking at Alexis and occasionally waving at her in sync. Yet neither smiled, they simple looked like they were training in holding a poker face.
"Father wanted you two to..."
"... settle in the guest room first." Deathy slid off the medical bay, Killy never letting go of her sister hand.
"He will come to..."
"... you in the guest room."
"Maybe he is already..."
"...there waiting for you."
"He is real good at waiting."
"True. What do you..."
"...want us to do?" They looked between the three adults to settle they eyes on Alexis. Moving up beside her, staring at her. Indirectly telling that they wanted to follow the Mystery busters, or show them the way around.</s>
<|message|>Alexis Halliwell
Great, the twins are looking at me. Just great.
I put a small smile on my face and crouched to be eye-level with Deathy and Killy, such a lovely names.
"It would really help us alot if you two sweet angels could show us to our rooms so we can speak with your father." I said as I awkwardly padded each girl on the head. The sooner we talk with him the better.</s>
<|message|>Mortha Grail
@Magic
Mortha winced as the doctor snapped at her, keeping a hand on the gun despite the detective's request. Rude and hostile, she'd never ran into someone quite that unfriendly for no reason whatsoever. So, as the woman moved out of the medical bay, Mortha only managed to stare after her.
"Oh... kay." She said slowly, turning towards Alexis and the twins.
"I agree. Let's head to the guest room." She said, expression brightening into a smile. She nodded at the two girls, waiting on them to show the way.</s>
<|message|>Killy and Deathy
@Illyrianna
The twin hummed and holding hands walked up front. They were not as fast in leading their way across the open space. The heart of the mansion, but as they came close to the purple crystal, the twin steps speed a bit up aiming to reach the stairs across the big hall. But now that the Mystery busters were close enough they could make out what was the crystal preserving.
It was a body of a Kobold.
His rock fur was black, the body was laying on the floor on its back. The tail was swung the side and appeared as if went thougth a lot of things during its owner life. The hands and legs were resting close to the body. It would nearly appear as if the body was asllp. It if wasnt for the part that was missing. The head was nowhere to be noticed. The blood poodle from the neck was still glistening even if it was looking mostly dry in the light broken by the purple tint of the crystal.
There was the mystery for the mystery busters.
If neither of the professionals said or did anything the twins would lead them up to the first floor and into a room that was more like a apartment with kitchen, dining table, bedroom and bathroom. The guest room was empty. The twins would leave the mystery to themsel then allowing them to have a moment alone.
If thougth the mystery busters stopped, to look or question about the obviously headless kobold, they would stop in place and look down to their feet.</s>
<|message|>Alexis Halliwell
Poor Kobold. The sight is horrifying, no wonder they don't want to be anywhere near it. I decided to take another look at the body and see if I can spot anything unusual or important about the headless Kobold.
Look at the body of Kobold 10</s>
<|message|>Killy and Deathy
The purple crystal doesnt allow to gather any specific details. Alexis knew that the crystals would blurry whatever she sees a bit. She did noticed something small, maybe greyish, hard to tell because of the purple tint of the crystal, poking out of one of the pockets of the dead kobold. Yet, with the crystal in the way and preserving the crime scene Alexis wouldnt be able to do anything. The caster of it would have to undo the spell to allow full access to the body.</s>
|
<|message|>Mortha Grail
Mortha followed the twins dutifully, until she spotted her partner peering at the body. The tall dwarf checked where her ice translator was, saw that it was following as well, and then proceeded to address the kobold.
"What is it, Alex? Did you see something?"</s>
|
<|description|>Olivia BiermannAge
22
Demon
Wrath
Personality
Olivia is rather quiet and prefers to keep to herself, making her seem like a gloomy person.
She's actually a very passive person. Which pisses off her demon.
Drawback
Whenever she refuses to do her demon's bidding, it takes full control of her and makes her self-harm to various degrees depending on what he wanted to do in the first place.
He made her break her own arm once.
It's punishment, you see. Soon enough it would break her down to be it's blind minion.
Background
Olivia used to be a college student, majoring in investigative law. She immediately dropped out as soon as she figured out that she had been possessed by such a vengeful demon, as she didn't want to hurt anybody she cared about.</s>
<|message|>Nathan Simfel
Alas, the gears of fate started moving. Knowledge, treasures, friends,enemies, whatever awaited him now, only time would tell. "Let me skip that time for you and say that only pain and death will stand along the path you're about to take."- well thats one more monologue gone dialogue, this demon was persistent in annoying him.
"And my name is Nathan Simfel, though I believe you knew that already. That, among many things..."-how exactly did HE know all this information about their predicament? Did his demon, for once, have an answer when he needed one?
"I will tell you that much, about how he knew, the Secret Power!"-the demon responded with a hellish whisper. What secret power? So what was that secret power? "Yes, it is The Secret Power! Kukukuku"
He told him that already but WHAT THE FUCK WAS THE SECRET POWER!?!?
"KHA KHA KHA KHA Foolish human, you continue to amuse me!"
For the rest of the walk he tried to stay blank, think of nothing. Extremely hard if you were wonder, with the constant bickering and spine chilling voice.
Looking once at Olivia(assuming you told your name) then back ahead, deciding against further conversation.
They entered the castle and were led to the great room, it was as majestic from the inside as from the outside.</s>
<|message|>Amber Quests
Amber sat alone in her small apartment looking out a window. Her eye's were dull, and she had thick black bags under her eyes from nights without sleep. Her demon had done this sense they made the contract. Her eyes then drifted to her laptop that sat across the room on her small bed. She moved her feet to the ground and cursed when she stepped on her friends pin, almost braking it. Her hands moved slowly to get the pin from the floor, but sweeping it up with ease. A name was sketched into it, and the name shined up at her as if it were smiling. Amber shifted her nails between every letter and let out a sigh through her nose. Her laptop now on her mind, she puts the pin in her jacket pocket and walks to her laptop. She sits down on her bed and pulls the laptop closer to her, and opens it looking through her messages. She usually doesn't get messages, but she still checked just in case. Apparently a message was there, and for some strange reason her demon inside her had an amusement look, then spoke in a voice that was so deep you could drown."My dear Amber, you may be in for a real treat." It snickered as Amber read the message. Amber almost feelt joy after reading the email, but then remembered quickly what the demon would do so she just began packing. She left her appearance and begin to make her way to the destination her demon said to go.
As Amber climbed the last flight of stairs, she was now standing in front of a huge door that was the entrance to the castle. The castle was Gray, and she liked it because there weren't any bright flashy colors. She pushed open the door and walked inside. The castle was also plain inside but it was very beautiful. Amber had a herd time paying attention, and her demon had to threaten to kill her if she didn't listen. So she followed her demonas directs of were to go. They ended up finding three people walking into a room. "Amber follows them." Her demon roared and Amber snarled back "shut up, I got it!" She grinded her teeth as the demon scratched her cheek, leaving a red trailing of blood behind. "Talk like that to me again, then I'll break your bones." It smiled as Amber said nothing and walked were they were going, with as little to no sound at all.
[@Bioshop] @Emuxe @KatherinWinter</s>
<|message|>Griffin Green
@SoulEater@Bishop
Griffin lead the group through the castle. The great room wasn't far from the door so if there were late arrivals he would hear them arrive. He indicated to the table. He had loaded it with food and drink. He wasn't much of a people person so giving up talking wasn't that hard for him. Thank to technology he could communicate when he needed to. Unfortunately now he needed to. "I am not sure where to start. I suppose the easiest way to start is at the beginning. A couple of months ago I woke up with a voice in my head. At first I thought I was bipolar or schizophrenic. I went to a psychologist hoping for help. This only made things worse. I am sure you all have similar experiences."
"Needless to say the doctor couldn't help me. But I did learn something. I learned that the voice in my head wasn't just an ordinary voice. It knew everyone's secrets. I know this because I tested several time. Everything the voice tells me is true. So when he told me that there were others like him I knew I had to find them. We are the keepers of the Lords of the Underworld. They are second only to Lucifer. Their physical bodies were destroyed hundreds of years ago which is why they need us. Each of us was chosen because we have something in common with the demon that chose us or something they crave." Griffin typed the message on his tablet before pressing the play button. He would explain that to the group next.</s>
<|message|>Amber Quests
@Bishop@Emuxe Amber walked ahead of the other two without acknowledging their existence and listened to the one who was supposedly the one who invited them here. She took a seat and looked at the other two as if challenging then to talk to her. As she and her demon listened she almost cried at Griffins' words. "Wait, you mean we can't get these damn demons out?! Amber roared. Her demon smirked and responded out of Amber's mouth "Don't mind her, Mr. Griffin, she'll behave. The demon tugged at her hair which made Amber gag and made her cut on her cheek bleed again. The demon whispered into her ear, "Shut up, stupid girl or I'll give up on the deal. Amber froze and sat still with her eyes burning with rage at the threat. The demon let go of her hair and spoke again out of Amber's mouth, "Now, why have you called us here exactly besides filling your castle with demos like the one inside you? Amber closed her mouth after the unnatural voice asked the question. Amber huffed and folded her hands on the table that was full of food, which was making her mouth water a bit. She hadn't remembered eating on the way here, except a hot dog that she had to beg her the demon who gave in eventually, and said it was a waste of time. her eyes trailed to a muffin that had cinnamon and whipped cream on it and her eyes lit up with hunger.</s>
<|message|>Olivia BiermannAge
---
Olivia raised a brow at the main who spoke as if he were a corny fairytale prince; she wondered if his compliments were mere flattery or were actually sincere, but it was nice to at least be spoken to. She turned when he extended her hand toward her, silently asking for hers in return as he introduced himself as Nathan Simfel. At least he's a gentleman, she thought internally as she hesitantly placed her hand in his palm, surprised when he actually lifted it to kiss it. He really was out of a fairytale.
"I-it's nice to meet you too," she stammered, hastily retreating her hand, "my name's Olivia." She had to shake her own hand, not in a rude way as it would appear, but upon touching his hand, it felt like her palm was on fire. Olivia rubbed her fingertips over her palm, appearing as if she were trying to massage out the sudden pain in her hand.
WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO BE RID OF ME?! the booming voice of Wrath suddenly engulfed her head, feeling her entire body with pain. Olivia physically grimaced, gritting her teeth hard in an attempt to muffle her sounds of agony. She nearly didn't notice the castle's large gates open, nor the new stranger who apparently could only speak with the assistance of technology.
Olivia followed after the small group, lagging behind due to the sheer fact that it felt like she was walking across molten glass. Wrath wasn't one to go down easily, and everything had to be done his way; Olivia was honestly surprised that he didn't just take over her body and walk her home, though she supposed that he thought that torturing her was a hell of a lot more fun.
Eventually, she reached the great room, but now wasn't the time to take in the extravagant sights. Olivia didn't sit down, but simply clutched onto the back of an empty chair, looking as if she'd just run a marathon in flip flops. "Wait," Olivia panted out, "you mean we have to help them?" She nearly sounded disgusted by the fact, but at least it seemed to calm Wrath down.
Wrath released her body, all of the pain washing away like a waterfall. Olivia almost collapsed from the relief, had she not been holding herself up. "Why would we want to help them?! Look at what they're doing to us!" she demanded, beckoning with her broken hand to the other girl in the room who was seemingly being abused by her own demon. At least Olivia wasn't the only one being beaten up by someone that doesn't even have a body...</s>
<|message|>Griffin Green
"It doesn't matter if we want to help them or not Olivia. We don't have alot of choicd in the matter. The demons are stronger then we are. They can force us to obey them to a certain degree. We have to feed them. We have find a way to live with them. I hope that that will be easier to do together." Griffin explained. He wanted them gere. Yes it would be difficult dealing with their demons on top of his. But atleast he wouldn't be alone.
"Now that we are the keeper of these demons will be immortal. We aren't strong enough to control our demons so we will hurt those closest to us. We will all have to live alone unless we are willing to work together. Even if we try to avoud hurtjng people are demons will force us to and it wont be long before we are hunted." They were already hunted but they didn't know that yet.
@SoulEater@Bishop</s>
<|message|>Nathan Simfel
Ahhh, the Power of Secrets... you love wordplaying don't you?
As Nathan made to greet the newcomer he noticed her lack of control. She was clearly struggling internally and it seemed like the demon had the upper hand most of the time. Well no need to greet that fowl creature. No knowledge on her desires could help him make her sign the contract. The demon wouldn't allow it. Maybe when she had a little more control...
"Going for the steal without an order? You're shaping in nicely human."
Well it said that their souls were worth 10 normal ones to the demon, all to help himself in the end. As they took their seats Nathan went ahead and sat himself close to Amber. He had to alternate in gaining these women's trust. He couldn't just waste time on one while ignoring the other.
Nathan started trying what seemed to be the most expensive food on the table all the while pouring himself a glass of wine and making an offer to fill Olivia's glass.
He noticed Amber glaring intently at a muffin but reluctant in eating it. Nathan took a muffin from the plate and took a bite. "Well made. Compliments to the chef for this exquisite assortment of dishes."- he said while addressing their host.
Turning to Amber he added:"It's very good. Have a try."
With that he hoped to relinquish the fear of poison that he thought was fueling Amber's reluctancy in eating.</s>
<|message|>Amber Quests
@Emuxe Amber looked at the boy across from her that was munching on a muffin. He seemed to pity her for some reason, which she did not like at all. She glared daggers at the boy and snaped, "I don't need your approval thank you very much!" She grabbed the muffin, stood out of the chair and stomped over to a window set. Amber really didn't give a danmn about hurting his feelings, and so didn't her demon. She got onto the window set and looked at the muffin in her hand. She then realized that she was very hungry so she took a small bite. Amber's eyes lit up at the sweet flavor so she took another bite. She licked her lips at the satisfying flavor, then she noticed a girl was looking at her. The girl looked like she had been in pain but was now recovering. She had blue short hair and a broken arm, and was over all very pretty. The girl looked like she was in pain which made Amber some what happy. Misery cakled in Ambers mind, "You see, pain can happen to other lovely things besides your self. Didn't you what others to feel the way you do?" Amber smiled to herself. She would like that very much. She continued to eat the muffin as she looked out the window.</s>
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<|message|>Olivia BiermannAge
Olivia awkwardly made air quotations, which was incredibly hard when you only had around 5% movement in one of your hands. "Yeah, only a 'certain degree'; I'd love to see what Wrath does with full control," she said sarcastically, her irritation dripping from her words. Of course, this didn't seem to please Wrath all too much; without a word, he took control of Olivia's right arm - the good one - and forced her to grip her own hair and slam her head against the top of the chair that she leaned against before again releasing her. "Jesus!" she wailed, rubbing the fast-forming egg on her forehead. Now that was just mean.
Olivia was relieved when Nathan silently offered to fill her glass - after the past few weeks, Olivia could really use a drink. She passed her glass over to Nathan with a quiet "thank you," before finally sitting down, exhausted. She sounded more like an exhausted middle-aged mother with a wine addiction than a single woman in her early 20s.
Olivia had to raise a brow at the younger girl, who seemed a little... touchy. It was unfortunate that someone who looked as young as her suffered the same fate as the much older possessed around her. Olivia refrained from saying anything further, though, choosing to instead just focus on other, more important things. Good, you're finally leaning to shut up, Wrath internally mocked.</s>
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<|description|>Natalya Phillips
"Libraries were full of ideas- perhaps the most dangerous and powerful of all weapons."
-Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass
Age: 21
Personality: Natalya is a hard-core nerd. She'll read anything she can get her hands on- from books on physics to web serials on fantasy worlds. Because of this, she has a vast knowledge of the world, and a big imagination. She'll often get sucked into books for days on end, stocking up on water and snacks in her room and not coming out for days. When times call for it, she's a strategist. She evaluates the best possible route and fine tunes to make it almost foolproof.
Demon: Disease
Power: She can share her disease with others, causing the advancement in herself to slow.
Drawback: The demon inside of Natalya is causing an infectious disease to start affecting her- causing intense spasms of pain and uselessness in the limbs affected by the rot.
Bio: Natalya was born to a relatively normal family. Where others made fun of Natalya for her pursuit of knowledge, her parents encouraged it. Growing up, her room was full of books and various scientific things pinned on the walls in her room. She constantly got As in all of her classes. At the age of 18, she was offered a scholarship to a university.
But lately something strange has been happening- her hand is beginning to turn black at the fingertips, and she has random spasms of pain. And she isn't alone inside of her head.</s>
<|message|>Griffin Green
@SoulEater@Bishop
Griffin lead the group through the castle. The great room wasn't far from the door so if there were late arrivals he would hear them arrive. He indicated to the table. He had loaded it with food and drink. He wasn't much of a people person so giving up talking wasn't that hard for him. Thank to technology he could communicate when he needed to. Unfortunately now he needed to. "I am not sure where to start. I suppose the easiest way to start is at the beginning. A couple of months ago I woke up with a voice in my head. At first I thought I was bipolar or schizophrenic. I went to a psychologist hoping for help. This only made things worse. I am sure you all have similar experiences."
"Needless to say the doctor couldn't help me. But I did learn something. I learned that the voice in my head wasn't just an ordinary voice. It knew everyone's secrets. I know this because I tested several time. Everything the voice tells me is true. So when he told me that there were others like him I knew I had to find them. We are the keepers of the Lords of the Underworld. They are second only to Lucifer. Their physical bodies were destroyed hundreds of years ago which is why they need us. Each of us was chosen because we have something in common with the demon that chose us or something they crave." Griffin typed the message on his tablet before pressing the play button. He would explain that to the group next.</s>
<|message|>Amber Quests
@Bishop@Emuxe Amber walked ahead of the other two without acknowledging their existence and listened to the one who was supposedly the one who invited them here. She took a seat and looked at the other two as if challenging then to talk to her. As she and her demon listened she almost cried at Griffins' words. "Wait, you mean we can't get these damn demons out?! Amber roared. Her demon smirked and responded out of Amber's mouth "Don't mind her, Mr. Griffin, she'll behave. The demon tugged at her hair which made Amber gag and made her cut on her cheek bleed again. The demon whispered into her ear, "Shut up, stupid girl or I'll give up on the deal. Amber froze and sat still with her eyes burning with rage at the threat. The demon let go of her hair and spoke again out of Amber's mouth, "Now, why have you called us here exactly besides filling your castle with demos like the one inside you? Amber closed her mouth after the unnatural voice asked the question. Amber huffed and folded her hands on the table that was full of food, which was making her mouth water a bit. She hadn't remembered eating on the way here, except a hot dog that she had to beg her the demon who gave in eventually, and said it was a waste of time. her eyes trailed to a muffin that had cinnamon and whipped cream on it and her eyes lit up with hunger.</s>
<|message|>Olivia BiermannAge
---
Olivia raised a brow at the main who spoke as if he were a corny fairytale prince; she wondered if his compliments were mere flattery or were actually sincere, but it was nice to at least be spoken to. She turned when he extended her hand toward her, silently asking for hers in return as he introduced himself as Nathan Simfel. At least he's a gentleman, she thought internally as she hesitantly placed her hand in his palm, surprised when he actually lifted it to kiss it. He really was out of a fairytale.
"I-it's nice to meet you too," she stammered, hastily retreating her hand, "my name's Olivia." She had to shake her own hand, not in a rude way as it would appear, but upon touching his hand, it felt like her palm was on fire. Olivia rubbed her fingertips over her palm, appearing as if she were trying to massage out the sudden pain in her hand.
WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO BE RID OF ME?! the booming voice of Wrath suddenly engulfed her head, feeling her entire body with pain. Olivia physically grimaced, gritting her teeth hard in an attempt to muffle her sounds of agony. She nearly didn't notice the castle's large gates open, nor the new stranger who apparently could only speak with the assistance of technology.
Olivia followed after the small group, lagging behind due to the sheer fact that it felt like she was walking across molten glass. Wrath wasn't one to go down easily, and everything had to be done his way; Olivia was honestly surprised that he didn't just take over her body and walk her home, though she supposed that he thought that torturing her was a hell of a lot more fun.
Eventually, she reached the great room, but now wasn't the time to take in the extravagant sights. Olivia didn't sit down, but simply clutched onto the back of an empty chair, looking as if she'd just run a marathon in flip flops. "Wait," Olivia panted out, "you mean we have to help them?" She nearly sounded disgusted by the fact, but at least it seemed to calm Wrath down.
Wrath released her body, all of the pain washing away like a waterfall. Olivia almost collapsed from the relief, had she not been holding herself up. "Why would we want to help them?! Look at what they're doing to us!" she demanded, beckoning with her broken hand to the other girl in the room who was seemingly being abused by her own demon. At least Olivia wasn't the only one being beaten up by someone that doesn't even have a body...</s>
<|message|>Griffin Green
"It doesn't matter if we want to help them or not Olivia. We don't have alot of choicd in the matter. The demons are stronger then we are. They can force us to obey them to a certain degree. We have to feed them. We have find a way to live with them. I hope that that will be easier to do together." Griffin explained. He wanted them gere. Yes it would be difficult dealing with their demons on top of his. But atleast he wouldn't be alone.
"Now that we are the keeper of these demons will be immortal. We aren't strong enough to control our demons so we will hurt those closest to us. We will all have to live alone unless we are willing to work together. Even if we try to avoud hurtjng people are demons will force us to and it wont be long before we are hunted." They were already hunted but they didn't know that yet.
@SoulEater@Bishop</s>
<|message|>Nathan Simfel
Ahhh, the Power of Secrets... you love wordplaying don't you?
As Nathan made to greet the newcomer he noticed her lack of control. She was clearly struggling internally and it seemed like the demon had the upper hand most of the time. Well no need to greet that fowl creature. No knowledge on her desires could help him make her sign the contract. The demon wouldn't allow it. Maybe when she had a little more control...
"Going for the steal without an order? You're shaping in nicely human."
Well it said that their souls were worth 10 normal ones to the demon, all to help himself in the end. As they took their seats Nathan went ahead and sat himself close to Amber. He had to alternate in gaining these women's trust. He couldn't just waste time on one while ignoring the other.
Nathan started trying what seemed to be the most expensive food on the table all the while pouring himself a glass of wine and making an offer to fill Olivia's glass.
He noticed Amber glaring intently at a muffin but reluctant in eating it. Nathan took a muffin from the plate and took a bite. "Well made. Compliments to the chef for this exquisite assortment of dishes."- he said while addressing their host.
Turning to Amber he added:"It's very good. Have a try."
With that he hoped to relinquish the fear of poison that he thought was fueling Amber's reluctancy in eating.</s>
<|message|>Amber Quests
@Emuxe Amber looked at the boy across from her that was munching on a muffin. He seemed to pity her for some reason, which she did not like at all. She glared daggers at the boy and snaped, "I don't need your approval thank you very much!" She grabbed the muffin, stood out of the chair and stomped over to a window set. Amber really didn't give a danmn about hurting his feelings, and so didn't her demon. She got onto the window set and looked at the muffin in her hand. She then realized that she was very hungry so she took a small bite. Amber's eyes lit up at the sweet flavor so she took another bite. She licked her lips at the satisfying flavor, then she noticed a girl was looking at her. The girl looked like she had been in pain but was now recovering. She had blue short hair and a broken arm, and was over all very pretty. The girl looked like she was in pain which made Amber some what happy. Misery cakled in Ambers mind, "You see, pain can happen to other lovely things besides your self. Didn't you what others to feel the way you do?" Amber smiled to herself. She would like that very much. She continued to eat the muffin as she looked out the window.</s>
<|message|>Olivia BiermannAge
Olivia awkwardly made air quotations, which was incredibly hard when you only had around 5% movement in one of your hands. "Yeah, only a 'certain degree'; I'd love to see what Wrath does with full control," she said sarcastically, her irritation dripping from her words. Of course, this didn't seem to please Wrath all too much; without a word, he took control of Olivia's right arm - the good one - and forced her to grip her own hair and slam her head against the top of the chair that she leaned against before again releasing her. "Jesus!" she wailed, rubbing the fast-forming egg on her forehead. Now that was just mean.
Olivia was relieved when Nathan silently offered to fill her glass - after the past few weeks, Olivia could really use a drink. She passed her glass over to Nathan with a quiet "thank you," before finally sitting down, exhausted. She sounded more like an exhausted middle-aged mother with a wine addiction than a single woman in her early 20s.
Olivia had to raise a brow at the younger girl, who seemed a little... touchy. It was unfortunate that someone who looked as young as her suffered the same fate as the much older possessed around her. Olivia refrained from saying anything further, though, choosing to instead just focus on other, more important things. Good, you're finally leaning to shut up, Wrath internally mocked.</s>
<|message|>Griffin Green
@SoulEater@Bishop
Griffin was surprised by the lack reaction he got. He wasn't sure what to make of it. Maybe he had explained it better than he thought he had. No one seemed to want to know who was hunting them. Maybe they had already figured it out. Or maybe they didn't care. It didn't matter who was hunting them. Still he had expected something from them. "There are others out there. I am hoping that they will show up. Until then I would like to invite the three of you to stay here. This castle has been safeguarded. It is currently the safest place for you. There are plenty of rooms so we won't be on top of each other."</s>
<|message|>Amber Quests
@Emuxe Amber looked at Griffin as he explained that there were more of them. She had crumbs on her face and when she spoke, some fell of her lips. "How exactly do you know that there are others like us?" Amber asked flatly. She then hired a bang and a curse from the blue haired woman as she rubbed her head. The woman sat down and then took a drink from the guy Amber had snapped at earlier. The woman looked back at Amber, and for a second there eyes were locked and Amber had a real emotion besides hatred in her eyes. Amber really didn't know why, but her demon seemed to not like the emotion at all. Misery gritted it's sharp teeth and took control of Amber, which triggered her depression. Misery began to whisper in her head of all the horrible things she had done which brought hot tears to Ambers eyes. She moved her knees to her chest and covered her face as she sobbed into her jacket."I don't want to remember, leave me alone!" Amber squeaked as she continued to cry. "Can't let you feel to convertible, can I now?." It's hellish voice rasped in her head. Misery then let go of her emotions, and stopped whispering nasty things to her and just grinned as it bathed in Amer's depression. Amber quickly wiped her face with her sleeve and pulled her hoody over her head, blocking her tear staned face. Her face was flushed red and her breathing hitched to try and control her tears. Amber pulled out her friends pin and moved it in her hand quickly, making shour to hid what was engraved on the heart. This movement usually help her forget herself, but sometimes it just lead to more tears.</s>
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<|message|>Natalya Phillips
Natalya arrived at the huge castle with a duffel bag handy, staring up at the structure with large eyes. Tentatively, she grabbed the knocker and slammed it into the door. It made a loud, hollow sounding noise, that rung in her ears and gave her the chills. She tested the knob on the door and opened it, finding it very hard to push with just one hand. But her other hand was useless, so she couldn't use it even if she wanted to.
Speaking of her left hand, it was currently encased in a leather gardening glove, and underneath that in gauze. No one but her had seen black, disgusting hand. No one but her knew about the spasms of pain that would occur.
Once she had opened the huge door, she found an empty hallway. She frowned. Ah, man. I must be really late. From what she knew of castle layouts, the great room should be right over here... She turned a corner, and did a fistpump. She walked over to the door, and opened it to find a group of people.
"Hi! My name is Natalya Phillips. Pleased to meet you all!" she said in a squeaky voice. She then walked over and took a seat next to the blue-haired girl.</s>
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<|description|>Dao Wong
Alias: Blade of the Kirin
Nickname: Might be acquired in game
Age: 35
Region of Origin: The West
Hometown: Xiangin, a small village with only rice farmers
Deity: The white tiger -Jiang Bing
Master: Blade Master
Gender: Male
Race: Lyn, anthropomorphic tiger
Height: 7"
Weight: 250 LBS
Hair: Dao's hair follows the typical tiger build with a yellow and white base with typical black stripes.
Eyes: Dark blue and black.
Skin: Dao's skin is covered in a fur. There is however a big exception to his lower arms which are covered in scars.
Handedness: Ambidextrous.
Scars: Long scars from blade cuts are drawn across both his arms.
Tattoos: None.
Basic Description: Dao is an athletically build anthropomorphic tiger. He doesn't wear much clothing and owns no shoes at all. He wears simple white pants which are covered by the lower half of what once used to be a full dingjia armor suit. around his neck Dao wears a dark red cloak or what is left of it.
Likes: Cooked vegetables, alcohol, meditation and philosophy
Dislikes: Dark chi, aristocracy, meat, injustice and exploitation of the weak
Goals: To kill the monster he created.
Fears: Dao fears the most that he is to weak to defeat his brother. He fears that to achieve his goal, that he has to give into dark chi and become that what he is trying to rid the earth from.
Mannerisms: Dao is rather easy going be prefers to keep his distance. He connects easily with people but safeguards that he grows to attached to them. He never really shows what is on his mind. In fact he feels deeply responsible for what happens to his younger brother, Hai and the suffering he has caused. The feeling of guilt bears heavily on Dao's shoulders and he can never find inner peace before he has dealt with the monster he created. Dao has devoted himself to the task o tracking his brother down and end the string of sorrow he created.
Superstitions: That eating meat lowers your will against succumbing to the powers of darkness.
Social Pressures/Problems: Dao doesn't know how to share his feelings, let alone to truly let someone in. He shuns away when people show romantic interest in him.
Parents: Dao's parents got brutally murdered.
Siblings: Younger brother, Hai Wong
Rivals: Hai Wong
Enemies: Hai Wong
Weapons: Dao's sword is a single egded, straight bladed Katana like sword. Its hilt is covered in black silk strings and the black sheat is made out of pine wood. The sword doesn't have any elaborate decoration that would suggest that it is made by a master swordssmith for some fancy rich lord. However even Grandmaster Jiang Bing once said that it is one of the finest swords in all of Tu.
Skills:
An exceptional vegetarian cook: No one in the entirety of Tu knows how to prepare vegetables so well as Dao. In fact, he knows everything about any plants that are eatable and can spot them in the wild. With even the littlest of resources, Dao can still make the most delicious of vegetarian food.
Talented singer: Dao is a very talented baritone singer. He raised his voice on the street once and got instantly invited to the local lords residence to sing for him. In a way, this talent opens doors to the higher echelon of society.
Absolute control over his chi: Dao has absolute control over his chi. He can redirect it to any part of his body enhanching the body's natural ability to heal. Wounds that would leave lasting damage to tendons, muscles and organs are reduced to mere scars. Wounds that would be fatal over time still heal. However this is not some instant healing factor that can be used in combat. Healing is still a time consuming process that can last for weeks or even months.
Powers:
Twin claws of the heavenly tiger style: The twin claw style is a sword fighting style that utilizes the scabbard as an additional weapon. By channeling his chi into the scabbard, Dao can raise the hardness of his scabbard to the point it can be used to block attacks from even the best blade-masters. The basic stance of the twin claw style has the scabbard in a backwards grip in the left hand and the blade in the right hand. Due to the Ambidextrous nature of Dao he can effortlessly switch the blade and scabbard between his hands to confuse his opponents. The movements of the blade and scabbard are always in sync where 1 element is used to parry an attack and the other to slash or thrust at the opponent. The scabbard is primarily intended for blocking attacks but it can also used as a club.
Heavenly fang thrust – The heavenly fang thrust is the ultimate attack of the Style the Kirin of the West teaches. It requires absolute control over your chi and extremely precise timing. In fact, it was believed that only The grandmaster himself masted the attack. The heavenly fang thrust comes in three stances.
1st stance, straight thrust - Dao drops in a partial crouch, both knees bent, left arm drawn back and right arm extended forward. He grabs the hilt with his left hand and rests the tip of the blade on his right thumb. By concentrating his chi in his legs Dao instantly accelerates to extremely high speeds and thrusts his blade towards the opponents vital parts. The moment he initiates his thrust, Dao instantly refocuses his chi into his striking arm, maximizing the speed and power of the attack. In fact, this thrust is so strong, that it can effortlessly break through shields, armors and even brick walls.
2ns stance, down trust – Dao drops into a similar stance as with the heavenly fang trust but now has the tip of the sword pointing downwards. He launches himself into the air and using his chi to accelerate his landing and thrusts on his way down, attacking his opponent from above.
3th stance, upward trust – Dao drops into his partial crouch, now holding the sword with its tip pointed diagonally upwards. From their he launches himself into the air, trusting upwards. This way, he can attack opponents in mid-air
Current Story: When Dao was was young, both he and his younger brother, Hai got enlisted in the martial arts school of Grand master Jiang Bing. Through the years of intensive training, both brother proved to be exceptionally talented in the art of the sword and became fiercely competative towards eachother. However Dao managed to be always 1 step ahead of his younger brother. In every practice match Dao managed to win. Every victory over his younger brother was something that Dao rubbed into his face. Even weeks later Dao would tease his brother about that he kicked his ass again.
Suffering defeat and humiliation at the hands of his older brother, Hai started to look for different ways to surpass his rival and tormentor. He would venture out at night to study the ancient and forbidden books on Dark Chi. Through these books he learned the name of an infamous dark sourcerer, Guohzi Han. Han promessed Hai the powers to beat his brother. Han unlockd the Dark Chi within Hai and he soon found the power he needed to confront his brother once and for all.
Dao sensed the dark chi that was flowing through his younger brother. Both lyn drew their swords and assumed the stance for the heavenly fang thust, the ultimate technique of the white tiger school. As a cloud moved in front of the sun, both lyn charged forward with increadeble speed. With the tip of the blades pointed at eachother they initiated their thrusts at the same time.
Dao doesn't remember much of what happened after. Only waking up with his arms covered in bandages. Grandmaster Jiang Bing told him that his arms where severely cut up and that he should focus his chi on his healing if he ever wanted to hold a sword again. A month later a box got delevered to the school. The messenger said it was for Dao. On top of it was a letter, written in beautiful calegrapgy. "I thought you would feel lonely at a school for swordsmanship, now that you will never be able to hold a sword again. So I send you mon and dad to keep you company. Your beloved little brother Hai" The box contained the head of Dao's parents.
At that day, Dao learned an important lesson. You reap what you sow. Hai gave in to darkness because Dao constantly teased and belittled his younger brother for being the lesser swordsman of the two. What was just fun and games for Dao ended up physcical torture for his younger brother. Doa's behaviour had created a monster, now it was his responsibility to make sure Hai would not hurt more people.
Recently a rumour has reached Dao that Bandit lord Mura Masau has hired a Lyn swordsman who is said to be unbeatable.</s>
<|message|>Kitsune Huohu
Damn, that Tigre was big. Not particularly well dressed, but big. Kitsune was almost afraid when he began stalking over to him. He'd heard rumours, sure, but damn. Strangely, he checked the guard first. Kitsune personally thought he was a bit puffed up, but each to his own. Time for that amazing speech that he really should have planned and now he really regretted enjoying the scenery.
"OK, first of all, the guy is fine. It went in through one side, out the other. Boom. Hit nothing. I never miss, done it loads of time, well, not shot guards just to get in, but I've shot people. Actually, that doesn't sound any better, um, meh doesn't matter, the guy's just being a wimp. As to why, well, two reasons. One, he was stopping me from getting in, guards have an annoying habit of doing that, and two, he was insufferably arrogant, you should do something about that, discipline or....something. Anyway, got your attention, didn't it? I'll assume that you're master Wong, because you're bloody huge, that's what people say, funnily enough. Always before they tell you about him being a great swords master, strange, but....here's the deal."
Kitsune took a deep breath.
"A Bandit Lord, possessed by dark chi, is expanding him empire, so that it covers almost the whole of Tu. He runs the underworld of every major city and town in the south, and he's beginning to head north. If he successfully follows through with his goals, he will become the single most powerful man in Tu, controlling the governments of all nations through corruption, bribery and threats, as he does already in the south. The region is falling apart, and more and more people are becoming subject to dark chi as part of his organisation. I figured I'd drop by on the way, give you a chance to join in saving the world. I hear he has hired a so called unbeatable Lynn swordsman, Tigre like you, apparantly. I thought you might also like a chance to put the record straight. And, uh, that's it." He concluded. "Wanna come, because I really have to get going."</s>
<|message|>Mei-Xing Su
ignore</s>
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<|message|>Dao Wong
Dao listened patiently to what the kid had to say. In fact, he was a bit amazed by the amount of words flowing from the little guys mouth. It was a long time ago that master wong met a person who spoke so much but said so little. The large lyn smiled at the remark of saving the world. The young lyn's upbeat attitute kind of reminded Dao about how he once was. Believing he could change the world for the better with a cut of his sword. However, in the end all master Wong could do was burry the corpses he would leave behind. Some things cannot be changed with violence. A truth the kid in front of him would learn one day.
However what the kid told about dark chi was of a totally different story. Dark chi is an unnatural force of pure evil and not the natural devices that shape the people and history of Tu. Dark Chi was a force that people could embrace or even have forced upon them. Bringing unmeasurable suffering to whatever place if would find root. It was the duty of a master of martial arts to root out the practice of dark chi and the suffering that followed in its wake. Dao had first hand accounts of what happened when people let themselves in with these dark arts. It twisted their minds and let them do unspeakable horrors. And then the boy mentioned something about an unbeatable Lyn swordsman. A tiger like himself.
For a moment Doa spaced out, suddenly looking into the distance as if there was something to see while in truth, there was nothing. The large lyn simply relived events of the past. That unfateful night where Dao learned what his actions had caused. Just that instant he whispered "Hai" as he instinctively grabbed his left arm, as if old wounds suddenly where causing pain again. The burdon of the past where weighing down heavily on the tiger's shoulders. If the rumor the kid told was true, then he might have an opportunity to find his younger brother. Dao simply had no real other option then to with the kid.
Dao blinked a few times with his eyes. As if he had to convince himself that his mind was back into the real world. The Lyn relaxed and smiled. "I am indeed master Wong. Most people simply call me Dao. It seems that you have given yourself quite the task. I will help you out. By the way, you forgot to introduce yourself"</s>
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<|description|>Alyssana Grey
Age: 28
Gender: female
Nationality: born in Africa, now a British citizen
Appearance: Alys is not unpleasant to look at, but she is no beauty. Her skin is naturally pale, but her version of tan is still on the light side and her thin lips are likewise lacking any significant color. Her features are refined but too sharp to be properly pretty, and she does not care to use makeup beyond a very little bit of lipstick and eyeshadow. She is lean but solid, a very active woman with the musculature to match. Her waist is narrow but so too are her hips, and she has little in the way of a bosom. Her eyes are her best feature, a stormy grey with more or less blue depending upon the day and the lighting. They are also the most reliable indication of her mood. Her hair has a bit of a wave and is cut just past her shoulders, a light brown closer to sandy or ash than it is to dirty blonde. She generally wears it pulled back from her face in a half-up style, pinned securely into place. She will put it in a full ponytail or a bun when she needs it more contained, and might do something a bit fancier with it for formal occasions, but she will never wear it down.
Alyssana favors functionality over form, including in her clothing. Her everyday attire is generally slacks and a blouse or a pants suit, though sometime she will wear a skirt instead of pants. She dresses modestly, and prefers understated patterns and delicate embroidery instead of anything flashy. A little bit of ruffle or lace goes a long way, but it is better not to overdo it. Her taste in jewelry is similarly simplistic, avoiding the ornate in favor of understated elegance. Color-wise she prefers darker tones and cool colors, particularly greys and navies. On site, she will wear denim, leather, and other hard-wearing materials suited for the rough work. She also trades low heels for steel-toe boots, and adds a satchel of useful items on a belt around her waist.
Outward Personality: Alyssana is an intelligent young lady who refuses to conform for conformity's sake. She demands the very best from herself and her colleagues, and anything less is unacceptable. She is a proud woman, and expects respect where she has earned it. Dismissing her because of her age, gender, or any other unfounded assumption is a good way to antagonize her. She likewise does not automatically associate a position of authority with worth. She prefers to judge people on individual merit and this can result in tension between her and people who feel they deserve more respect than she gives. She is not tactless, but generally sees little reason to sugar-coat the truth, and she will speak bluntly. She is sometimes seen as a killjoy, but this is not entirely accurate. Instead it is a product of a serious nature, a reserved demeanor, and a certain lack of patience for frivolity. Those who do not know her generally see her as impassive and aloof; those who do learn to discern the subtle differences in her expressions. She does not often lose her cool, and may be relied upon for sound decisions even under pressure. Alys has a strong sense of ethics, but in the end she is a pragmatist. Often one must either compromise or accept the consequences, and Alys does not shy from the latter. She is very intense and often judgmental, but well-reasoned arguments are given due consideration.
Inner Personality: Where Alys appears to lack a normal range of emotions, it is merely her natural composure; where she seems to push people away it is more that she is slow to trust, and has difficulty opening up to others. Raised in near isolation for a number of years and needing to grow up rather quickly, Alyssana has a certain disregard for social norms and is used to looking after herself. She is fiercely independent, and while she usually asks for help when she needs it she is never pleased to do so, which often comes across as arrogance. She has no particular loyalty to the Allies, and sees giving them an occult edge if war breaks out again as the lesser of two evils. That is not to say she thinks fighting is wrong, but trusting this sort of knowledge to those who do not truly understand it and its effects is asking for trouble. She would prefer to keep discoveries to herself and other academics.
Backstory: Alyssana and her twin brother Christopher were the product of a highly amoral occultist's experiment. A captured spirit was used to modify the twins in the womb, and as a result both have a high affinity for magic, though they are also vulnerable to certain spells that deal with spirits and supernatural entities. Her mother was a young woman abducted from a European settlement in Africa and kept as a servant after, her father the occultist himself. She was raised believing her parents were dead, and only found out the truth as a young teen.
Gerald Tarrant, well-versed in the occult, shared a great deal of his knowledge with the twins. They grew up fairly isolated, their home by a small lake near the edge of the Sahara. The son was to be his heir, carrying on his work in the field, and Alyssana was to be Chris's protector. While she did not receive as much direct training in the supernatural as her brother, she often read his books and helped him with lessons. Her own training focused on combat, both ranged and melee, and more practical matters.
At age eleven, Alyssana discovered that the master who'd raised her like his own child intended to use a ritual to bind her to Christopher, so she would be compelled to stay with him and protect him. Frightened and disgusted, the girl took her brother and fled, eventually reaching the dig of a group excavating a site of occult significance. Alys managed to persuade some of the researchers to allow the twins to stay, especially when they demonstrated knowledge in the field. A confrontation with Gerald could not be avoided, but in the end when the team returned to England, the children went with. Officially the pair were adopted by one of the archaeologists, but in reality the relationship was not particularly familial, despite the efforts of the Greys.
The girl's education continued, both in the standard subjects and in the occult, for which she had a particular aptitude. She graduated Oxford with top honors to pursue a career in both teaching and fieldwork. Her adopted parents had ties to the world in the shadows, including sponsoring various endeavors, and Alys's mentor in that area was a good friend of the founders of the Rutherford Organization. However, he was quite adverse to declaring allegiance to any particular government, and Lord Lowell Agimund maintained close ties to the occult scholars of various countries despite the tensions between them. This gave Alys the singular opportunity of exposure to a wide variety of methods and the schools of thought associated with each. Eastern philosophy in particular holds an appeal for her, as well as the Jewish value of questioning and even arguing established rules.
While she holds no particular allegiance to the Allied countries, beyond her opposition to a single world government, the opportunities presented by the Rutherford organization were simply too good to pass up.
Other:
Alyssana is, at heart, an academic. Learning is her passion, with her chosen fields merely applications of this underlying love.
Alyssana is a devoted student of the sword, both in terms of fencing and for self-defense. She is the owner of a beautiful ancient longsword that carries a minor enchantment, a gift to her from Lord Agimund upon completion of her schooling. She is a competent fighter in general, with experience in knives, rifles, pistols, and fisticuffs, and she will not hesitate to fight dirty. Her strength is merely average when unenhanced, and she relies on wit and magic to gain her a decisive advantage.
English is her native tongue, and though she has replaced most of her African English accent with a properly educated one, traces of it remain. She speaks the French used by African colonies with the fluency of a native, knows enough of a couple different African tribal dialects to carry a conversation, and has a solid knowledge of Afrikaans. She had sufficient exposure to Arabic as a child while abroad with the Greys to pick it up, though her speech here is considerably less polished. Academically, she studied various older tongues, including Classical Latin, Hebrew, Aramaic, Old High German, Old English, and Sumerian.
Lord Agimund was a practical man, and did not believe in limiting oneself to a single magic system. As his student, Alys learned about a variety of systems, and employs a combination of channeled, rune-activated, and component casting. Aside from the trivial spell for light -- the first she ever learned -- her proficiencies are combat magic (particularly force and dark), and dispelling. While she has functional knowledge of things like rituals, she is not particularly skilled at using them, nor at crafting spells. Her theoretical knowledge of magic systems is far broader. She has detailed knowledge of curses, mostly for dispelling purposes, but should the need arise, Alys would be able to craft and cast a curse without much difficulty.
Alyssana is more susceptible to magic targeting supernatural creatures, particularly spells dealing with spirits. While channeling a specific type of magic (usually dark), she is adversely affected by magic opposing that type. She registers as a magical creature, something that frustrates her no end.</s>
<|message|>Sven Heidrich
Sven appreciated the group discussion and speculation about what the Mirror of Souls was capable of, and even chuckled slightly at Jack's joke. Once the others had finished speaking, he looked to them and clarified the situation. "Zhe tomb houses several traps vithin, that are powered by zhe souls of zhe varriors of zhe Emperor's army. Zhe Mirror is able to disarm zhe traps, allowing us to progress furzher into zhe tomb. As for zhe likelihood of zhese hired treasure hunters acting in Ceylon being aligned with zhe Axis powers, ve do not have enough intelligence to fully make a decision, vhich is vhy ve are providing you with an armed escort, opposed to a full regiment of Commonwealth forces." Sven took a brief pause to light and take a puff of his pipe, before resuming. "As for zhe other two pieces of zhe Mirror, ve have yet to locate zhem, but you all can expect to hear more upon your return from zhis mission. Now, I believe zhat covers everyzhing. If you have any more concerns, feel free to meet vith me in my office, but for now you all need to get ready for your trip. Dismissed." With that, he unclipped and rolled up the map, gathered the documents he had not given to the group, and headed for his office to prepare for driving the agents to the airport.
Gatto@SkullsandSlippers@Avanhelsing@shylarah</s>
<|message|>Imogen Yvonne Georgina Trondeau (Nee-Thomas)
Imogen sipped her tea as Sven talked. Her eyes moved around the room as she took in the others she was working with. Jack was unlike other men she socialized with and very much an American. She had grown used to his more rugged manners and found an odd security in his presence.
Alyssana was a researcher and that was something Imogen understood. Her time with her husband had taught her so much in terms of research. Imogen knew that working with her as an assistant was a place where she could be most useful. She wasn't sure her socialite status would help with this mission so Imogen made a mental note to talk to Alyssana to find out what she might be able to help her with.
Imogen scribbled neat notes as Sven talked about traps, needing more intelligence on the treasure hunters and souls. These would be things to keep at the forefront of her mind. She wondered how she might help with the treasure hunters. While they wouldn't be at a party her ability to talk and socialize, to get people talking might come in handy if she could find an in. The talk of armed escort once again made her nervous but that was her issue. The others seemed fine with guns and fighting.
They were dismissed and Imogen stood, packing up her things. She looked over at Alyssana.
"Ms Grey. I was thinking that we might gather some books or material to go over about this particular subject. I would be happy to help research for any little bits of information that might help us in this. I am not much of a physical help for this team so if there is anything else I can do please let me know."
She smiled and slipped her blazer back on.</s>
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<|message|>Alyssana Grey
Alys nodded at Ms Trondeau. "I appreciate the offer, but given Ceylon is in the East, near India, I don't believe there is all that much on their lore available here. It's been a British colony only for what, a hundred years? A hundred fifty?" Her expression turned thoughtful. "They're not exactly fond of the British either, what with the Kandyan Wars. Not fond of Europeans in general, though I'm sure on an individual basis they're reasonable people." The young lady shrugged. "It won't be helped by the need for an interpreter either, I imagine. At least they're less likely to have rationing of tea. I'm going to brush up on my Buddhism. If I remember correctly, there's a significant temple somewhere in that area. Something about a relic...I'd need to look it up."
Imogen smiled politely. "Alright, I thought perhaps we might find something but that is understandable. I did not consider that we might not have much available to us here. I will have to find another way to be of assistance."
She looked thoughtful. "I will see if I have any books on Buddhism to help you. My-Matthieu had many books from around the world and perhaps there is something on that religion somewhere." Imogen gave a slight nod. "If I find anything I will be sure to pass it on to you."
The professor bid the others farewell and went off to gather information and what she would need for the trip.</s>
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<|description|>Reverent Clan
Muin Dourhorn
Dourhorn is the eldest of Muin's children and marked as a Dwarf of ill gotten luck. As a babe a birth defect rendered Dourhorn paralyzed in the right side of his body. Though he eventually learned to use his frozen limbs, they remain deformed, stiff, and uncooperative. Unable to pursue the life of a warrior, Dourhorn turned toward scholarly pursuits instead. Dourhorn achieved an honourable place among his father's council, earning his ear on matters requiring more than an axe to solve. Nevertheless, Dourhorn's disability and envy of his virile brothers left him jaded and humourless. While he is not the most popular of his father's children, his intelligence and wisdom have earned him a small following and a thriving clan in Muin's Pass.
Reverent Clan takes its name from the Dwarven God of Death, or more specifically, the God's servants whom drag the unworthy dead to the underworld to spend eternity in darkness. A name seemingly befitting on the dark nature of Dourhorn and his followers, yet their village is prosperous, benefiting from their leader's intelligence. Following Master Muin's death, Dourhorn feared violence from his brothers and led his followers to safety, whereupon they built a small settlement. Like Dourhorn, most share an affection for scrolls and parchment, while others recognize Dourhorn's abilities and thought him their best chance to survive in the bitter mountain pass.
Chief among Dourhorn's followers is his younger sister, Bittercoat. An accomplished archer and deadly with her spiked cudgel, Bittercoat's amiable nature is often at odds with her elder brother's stern attitude. It is said that the lass took pity on Dourhorn until realizing his wits more then made up for his physical short comings, and the two forged a strong bond. Grisbold Oakfeet is Dourhorn's trusted captain, the leader of Reverent Clan's warband. A Dwarf who fought in many campaigns and the scars to prove it. Oakfeet shares Dourhorn's surly nature, and is a strict disciplinarian for the clan's fighting ranks, yet there are few others better to lead a troop of Dwarves. Thinmail Brittleback followed Dourhorn from Muin's citadel but for no other reason then to follow his wife, Bittercoat. A marriage of politics orchestrated by Master Muin, Brittleback is perceived as a flamboyant weakling who happens to come from wealthy stock. Though he adores Brittleback, it is widely known that there is little affection to be returned.
Reverent Clan have established themselves in the eastern tracts of the pass, building their village in a sheltered hamlet, bordered by a ridge, rocky hills, and a stream.
The clan boasts a modest population of roughly 2,000 Dwarves.
Claiming the lands around their village, aptly named Reverent, the Dwarves of the clan busy themselves with a small farm, a large pasture, and a productive mine, producing iron, malachite, and coal. Central to the village is Fanghorn Temple, a low building cut from obsidian stone and dark as night.
The Reverent Clan's warband consists of fifty Dwarves; thirtyfive axedwarves, ten archers, and five boar riders.
The Clan is largely steeped in tradition, holding to the old sagas and scriptures as a framework from which to live their lives. A dogmatic view of the Gods is implemented to keep law and order, however the tenants of old tend to grow more lax the higher up the hierarchy of the clan. Regardless, the Gods are paid homage and traditions of old are upheld among the clan.
As Dourhorn is the oldest among Muin's children, he and his followers claim the rule of the valley should pass to him. Yet for the legitimacy that surrounds his claim, it cannot be denied that Dourhorn's physical weaknesses are a detriment to his claim, and most pass him off as being too weak to rule the valley.
Reverent Clan sets itself apart from the other clan's for it's religious fervor, conducting themselves in a manner befitting the Gods and Dwarven heroes of long ago. They strive for wisdom above all things, and seek to impart wise counsel on any whom ask.</s>
<|message|>Clan Hornfel
'And we love you too, mother.' Thought Hornfel as he slowly pinched the gap between his eyebrows. He wanted to say how mother was merely in grief and surely would come to her senses in a few weeks but, knowing the stubbornness of the dwarves it was doubtful neither his brothers would calm down or their mother change her mind. No, the only way to calm things down was to form a slab of granite with enough of his brothers that they could convince the rest to regroup around... around whom? The obvious choice was Dourhorn, the first born, but he had just been specifically disowned by the mother of them all (And really, did he want Dourhorn as Lord-Master?). But then... who?
Someone who didn't mind trade so Hornfel may continue to earn his coins, one who didn't mind outsiders for he may continue to drink with his fellow adventurers, one who didn't force him to battle or to church so he might continue to drink without worry. But lets face it, no one in this room filled these criteria. Hornfel sighed on his island of solitude in the middle of the conflict. No one but him. Eh, the thought was laughable almost, his eldests recognize him as their Lord-Master.
Right now, it was.
But obviously this situation probably wouldn't resolve itself today. Taking a moment to think about this furthermore, Hornfel moved his perspective to that of an outsider, trying to ignore how he was right in the thick of all of this and think of how a merchant would walk out of this with more in his pocket than when he entered. Suddenly the obvious thing to do became clear as daylight. As things began to heat up even more, Hornfel spoke.
"Dourhorn."
He raised his voice, so all in the hall might hear him.
"Dourhorn, the first son, is the rightful heir as it is written in stone! And I shall be at his side!"
With a brisk pace, Hornfel walked to his eldest brother and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, locking eyes with him for a moment before nodding to him. Hornfel turned to his kinsmen. "And no matter your arguments so should you!"
To be fair, that was debatable. But the way Hornfel saw it, if anyone was to walk out with the title of Lord-Master here, it was Dourhorn. In one scenario people were rallied by this and they could all end this feuding before it comes to, plus, as an added bonus, being the first to support him Hornfel could hopefully stand tall in Dourhorn's eyes and maybe insure some kindness in return, and maybe some trust when the time where Hornfel would have to look at Dourhorn in the eyes and say that he understood traditions and its importance. If that didn't work... well, the gesture certainly would place him on Dourhorn's good side and make him maybe willing to work out a compromise.
A compromise that could very well be named Lord-Master Hornfel.</s>
<|message|>Longstrider Clan
"No!"
Leth, Murins Grandson, had held himself in the background, yet now he stepped forward. His hair was still in a deep red, and his eyes were young and filled with fire. Dwarfs lived far longer then men, almost as long as elves, and in the eyes of his uncles Leth might be barley considered an adult at all. Yet little did he cared for their opinion in that matter. He had been called out warden by his rangers, and Murin had accepted him in this Rank.
"I have been in this halls many times before! For my father lies not far from here! He died the same way, my beloved Grandfather Murin did! Killed by the wicked Goblins!"
He slowly stepped towards the grave, resting his hand on it, before turning back around, a flash of fury in his eyes, as he focused on Dourhorn. Taking another breath, he could feel how is palms shivered, as he knew that there was no going back. This was a final decision, and he had to live with the consequences that would follow. He had considered to simply remain a dutiful warden, and keep himself out of the conflict that seemed inevitable. But inside him was a desire for more, then just to content with what he had. He owned it to himself, and to this wife to strive for more! And he owned it to the valley, to save it from the clutches of an incapable cripple.
"My Grandmother called us a pack, so be it! Dourhorn, i call you the runt of it! The Clan of Longstrider will never bow to your will, Cripple!"
Leth step were slow, yet he moved towards his oldest uncle, his eyes narrowed. "For when my father died i descended into the darkness, swearing not to return until i had wiped out the beasts that had killed my father! And so i did..." He stepped closer and his face was only a few inches away of Dourhorn. Leth would not blink, nor flinch, as the next words were only whispered. His eyes had a sudden coldness, just as cold as the winter of the valley. "So where is your armor, where is your shield and where is your axe? Or do you want to read goblins to death?"
Leth eyes moved towards Hornfel, and a displeased look moved into them. He hadnt expect him to declare himself so soon, but he would need to react to his declaration. "I respect you, uncle! And i hold your words in high regard! But you are making a mistake! The Runt is not fit to lead! That you support him speaks for your honor, and your regard to our traditions of inheritance, yet..." Leth slowly stepped away from Dourhorn, yet kept him faced. "...i will rather shave my beard, bury my axe and live with humans, then to have Dourhorn as our leader! For he will never achieve justice for my grandfather!"
With that said, he turned around, facing his uncle Agrim. From all the dwarfs in this room, he had the highest hopes for his support. Knowing him to be a warrior like himself, he also counted on his bound to his father. If there was one dwarf in his room, that Leth could see ruling the Valley, other then him, then it was his uncle. "The Clan of Longstrider, Warden of the Valley, declares its support for the second born of Murin, or his rightful heir! Uncle, who was the first to see the light of this world! You, or my father?"</s>
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<|message|>Reverent Clan
Muin Dourhorn, first son of Muin, and heir to Muin's Valley, followed Buri Bizidurum with a bowed head. His face solemn beneath his brown beard, Dourhorn wouldn't even let himself wince as pain from the long walk began to shoot up his right leg, leaving his features still as stone. His cane left within the keep among his attendants, Dourhorn had vowed to make this walk upon his own legs. The pain that drove up from his ankle and cut like a knife into his thigh was little when compared to the crushing loss of losing his father.
Limping into the burial chamber, Dourhorn took up position across from Buri the Runemaster, his head lowered in prayer as his father's incantation began. His eyes closed, Dourhorn could hear his father's voice in his head, as if he himself spoke the words from beyond the mortal world. Each verse stirred deep within him, resonating out some transcendent power. The pain in his leg ebbed and the Dwarf had the sensation of being outside himself. As the final verse was being spoken, a shriek silenced Buri and Dourhorn opened his eyes to see his mother stricken mad with grief.
"Not the key will my firstborn receive. Where was him at the fall of his Master? Mother of a pack, they will call me, for I did not raise dwarves of high birth but the lowest wolves of evil thirst. Seven times you be cursed, and I will not give away the Key of the Home of the Valley, no one here is worth to step through the godly gates of Muin."
Dourhorn brought his left hand to his chest as if he was struck. Yulna had broke the incantation, defiled it with a curse. The mourning, pitiful Dwarf slunk from the light of the braziers and disappeared into the shadows.
The chamber was silent for what seemed an eternity, their grief replaced by shock. It was Hornfel that broke the silence. To Dourhorn's surprise, his younger brother rushed to his side, proclaiming his support. Leth, Dourhorn's nephew and son of fallen Ragnar, was quick to object.
Dourhorn met the young Dwarf's gaze as he stepped before him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of shrinking away. The young Dwarf was strong, he didn't doubt it, and he was acutely aware of how easily the lad could snap his neck if caught in his grasp. Petulance flew from Leth's mouth as he openly mocked Dourhorn. Once he fished for the support of Agrim, proclaiming beyond doubt that his clan would bow to no one save himself or Agrim, Dourhorn seized the momentary silence to speak his case.
Taking a step forward with his good foot, Dourhorn spoke in his usual low tone, a deep and powerful voice that belied the broken Dwarf from which it uttered. "Impudent welp," He said flatly with measured disdain. "Our dear mother, mad with grief has broken the incantation. I can forgive her for her scornful words, but what excuse can you give, Leth, for furthering this blasphemy other then to sate your own ambitions!"
Turning to face his brothers, Dourhorn's deep voice echoed across the walls of the chamber. "Is this to be the future of our father's valley? To be led by reckless arrogance? Ever and anon I advised constraint. Urged our lord-father to exercise caution when faced with the threats against the valley. If only he had heeded my advice, and not gone chasing the fancies of our youth, clinging to the notions of victories worthy of song!
"Nay, brothers, this ill fate was sewn long ago. Never again will the Dwarves of Muin Valley charge heedless into the fray! We have lost too much to walk this perilous course. We must have our wits about us, for it is our wits that make us Dwarves! Abandon that and you are left with but an axe to swing blindly.
"Our father's word is clear. Divide and be cursed. Only together can we ensure the safety and prosperity of the valley. Rule is mine by right. Swear to me, brothers, and together we will brave the darkness, and by the light of knowledge and the Gods, we will prevail."</s>
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<|description|>Amarilla Keton
Race: Dhampir, hybrid of vampire and tall dwarf
Gender: Female
Age: 21
Personality and Motivations: Amarilla is an odd girl, friendly and peppy, but one might say too friendly and peppy, and with occasional off-putting tendencies as she shows no concern at the prospect of encountering things that most others might find terrifying. Her upbringing, while providing her with a variety of knowledges, did not do well in teaching her how to contain her enthusiasm or act appropriately in front of others, especially in formal settings and the like. She often appears completely oblivious or uncaring of dangers that could present themselves in the depths as well, though on the contrary, she is fully aware of any potential hazards that may arise. She simply considers it an inevitable hazard of adventuring, and feels no need to show excess concern over it past taking standard precautions. After all, why would one travel into such danger if they weren't willing to take such risks? Having only encountered members of mortal races in her daily life - and not even many of those - and only reading of undead in research texts, Amarilla's desire to explore these depths stems from a desire to study the undead within firsthand, wishing to learn about her heritage, as she puts it.
Class and Alignment: Neutral Alchemist
History: The circumstances of Amarilla's birth are a mystery even to her. Born to a mother who died during childbirth, and a father whom neither Amarilla nor anyone she knows had ever laid eyes on, she has never known how exactly she was born as an abominable hybrid of undead and mortal. As such, rather than parents, Amarilla was raised by an elderly librarian by the name of Esmeralda Keton, who taught her all that she knows today, resulting in a smattering of knowledge on multiple subjects. Esmeralda kept Amarilla away from most other individuals, fearing what may happen if anyone else were to discover that Amarilla were a dhampir. In recent years, Amarilla has taken an interest in learning about the undead for a greater understanding of herself, refusing to remain kept away from society any further so that she may explore the outside world for the sake of learning.
Equipment:
- Black hooded cloak, typically worn over her coat to cover herself and avoid sunlight.
- Serrated dagger, as a backup when bombs won't do
- Alchemist's supplies, for mixing together bombs and the occasional poultice
- Lock picks, as one never knows when they might come in handy
Skills and Spells:
- Amarilla's hybrid nature has its benefits, granting her impressive agility and grace, allowing her to hide and slip out of sight easily when she actually decides to stop talking, and letting her work well with diligent handiwork such as lockpicking or using precious materials.
- She is able to see exceptionally well in darkness and is resistant to most diseases.
- Amarilla has at least basic knowledges in many subjects learned from her life in the library, but the ones that stand out into anything notable are knowledge of alchemy and the undead. She has minimal use as an apothecary sadly, she could make a basic poultice for treating minor wounds if given the right herbs, but that would be the extent of her healing capabilities. Instead, she has learned to quickly (and somewhat haphazardly) mix together vials of volatile materials to create small bombs that detonate when thrown. The result of these bombs is nothing large or spectacular, but definitely a bit more damaging than taking an arrow to the shoulder.
Miscellaneous:
- Sunlight does not harm Amarilla, but she is still sensitive to it as it hurts her eyes rather easily, making it difficult for her to act capably in broad daylight.
- Fire burns her more severely and easily than it would others.
- Her vampiric heritage gives her occasional cravings for blood in small amounts, though it provides no actual benefit for her to drink it as she still normal needs food like any other mortal creature.</s>
<|message|>Lorick Lockwell
As more and more joined the group so did the Shadow get more and more curious. It traversed from one person's Shadow to the next getting a feel of their physical attributes. It was particularly curious about the mechanical contraptions. It was true that they had witnessed creations like those before but as much as people differed from each other so did the mind of inventors and in return so did the creations themselves. It was like seeing a new species everytime, no one built the same thing for the most part.
Well, it was time, Lorick thought to himself as he closed the clock and pocketed it. He got up, wiped away some dirt from his clothes and made for the others. A quite peculiar group indeed. He didn't need any introduction though as the Shadow was there to witness them all and what the Shadow knows he knows.
Cane in hand he approached the band.
"Apologies for my tardiness. My name is Lorick Lockwell and I'm looking forward to working with you all."- he introduced himself while taking a courteous bow. The Shadow seeing this, exaggerated the action in an attempt to mock him. Well, hope no one noticed that.</s>
<|message|>Masrith
Masrith rolled his wrists as the restraints were removed. He turned to see the group of people gather as well as Irthorne verbally tear into a guard. Masrith was somewhat surprised. Noone ever defended an Illithid. Masrith watched as the guards walked off. Masrith turned to face Irthorne and looked down at him. "I have nothing against them." The voice would ring in Irthornes head. "I apologize if this form of communication disturbs you. It is how Illithids communicate. We have no need for verbal speech." Masrith examined the group. "There are things the books do not say about them that I will need to note." His gaze turned back toward Irthorne. "My name is Masrith. I am what is known as an Illithid. Well, more specifically, an Ulitharid. I am physically powerful, but am mostly known for a powerful mind. If you seek a strategist or an individual who could help analyze predicaments or documents then I can certainly be of use. I can also link minds using my psionic abilities to allow groups to communicate." Masrith kneeled down and stuck out his hand. His body movements were somewhat awkward. "I'm have to inform you. I do not represent any form of authority from the Illithid empire. I was exiled at birth form my mutations registered me as an abomination. I hope you still view me as a reliable assest to the group."</s>
<|message|>Ingrim Nesfit
Well, it had seemed the reception to his little act was just a bit half-baked for his taste. The only people that seemed to acknowledge his little sideshow were originally the two people at the current spot. Sure, others had joined in during his little introduction, but they didn't seem to pay much mind to the artificer and his many merry creations. The big guy, Kol'rakul, seemed to have had the best time out of his intro with his hearty laughs filling the air. Ingrim could tell by the looks of this strapping beast was someone earnest and filled with energy, but was using the energy for some good intentioned violent acts, hence the decapitated head of the highway man. The Ringleader liked this man, he could get a few laughs out of him, and possibly use his size and strength for other uses during the trip to the dungeon. "Well, I'm glad to be of service, Kol'rakul the Axeman, and I'll be sure to remember your applause during this adventure," Ingrim replied, his creations settling down from the previous excitement, though in the background seemed the same hooded lady was getting a closer look at his creations. "Ah! Someone curious about my comrades? Why, these amazing attractions have been created by yours truly with the help of some arcane magic to power up these magnificent beast! I have to say that these creations can do all sorts of amazing tricks, but you can see that later at one of my many shows across the land! 'The Troop and Troupe!'" Hopefully this would garner some attention to the gnome's little entertainment act, he did need some gold to continue this lifestyle, and the best way to show some appreciation would be to donate to his cause to bring safety and joy to all.
So, with the interactions between those two had been fulfilled, the contractor had said some things about more people arriving to this location. Wow, the dungeon might just be a tiny bit cramped with the amount of people entering this crypt, especially with all of his creations joining within the unstable cave. Ingrim was worried, if he was to be put inside of rear guard to protect the entrance of this cave, than that would mean less gold and materials for his many varied projects! This was grave news indeed, but hopefully something could be done to avoid being stuck with the boring job. Giving a light sigh to himself, the ringmaster turned to meet the rest of the adventurers that came with the same intent of adventure and gold. The fourth to arrive was some anthropomorphic beast, an owl by the looks of it, and surprisingly held himself up well compared to most other beings with their rambunctious behavior. Ingrim would have to take note of this, polite and well-armed. The fifth the arrive was someone of interest, a towering man clad in armor trugged through the field that almost seemed to be as well built as Kol'rakul! He had no idea of his origins, but Ingrim could tell that this man was someone of great skill with their battered skin and surprisingly wellkempt beard. Another person of importance, and another tall burly person to hide behind. The sixth to arrive was some tall dwarf, a woman tall dwarf with a hint of superiority with the stance and way they help themselves to the others. Strangly enough, this one seemed to know the axeman, small world seemed to the both, but Ingrim could tell that the distance the woman was keeping from him was someone that didn't want to be bothered by this certain gnome. Smiling, the gnome would like to know of their distance from the ringmaster, but the response was likely to be some pompous answer though it would be interesting to get some insight of changing something about his act.
The gnome managed to walk just a few steps towards Feon when suddenly more adventurers appeared from the brush! So many! And so much people only made this situation a bit worrying for the ringmaster. However, something more worrying towered over his concerns as some squid monster carried in chains was brought to the scene! A squid monster! How could they possibly allow this thing to join them on their travels!? Surly they had enough diversity with the owlman, but to bring such creature known for their rather despicable deeds... He would have to keep a close eye on the beast. And what do you know? Another anthropomorphic beast has emerged from the brush, a spider lady to be exact. Her figure said more than needed if someone was into that stuff, but alas her strange contraptions that had donned every limb has made piqued his interest even more. Ingrim would need to analyze those devices later in time, if they are attached to every limb than that would mean that it is something of importance and most likely a dangerous weapon. And lastly, but strangely enough that appeared to be the last adventurer of the group was... A child? Man, the owner must be quite desperate for help if they would allow such a young child to join in this dangerous quest. The Ringmaster would need to keep a close eye on this one as well, if nothing their skill must be something great to be allowed on this quest, and the death of a child would bring morale down quite low if they were to be allowed to meet such an early fate. Now, with everyone addressed within his mind, Ingrim the crafty taking his mental notes on how to approach and treat everyone was now going to annoy the crap out of the female that seemed to dislike the gnome.
"Well! How do you do?" Ingrim questioned, quickly walking over to the disinterested adventurer, "If you didn't hear, my name is Ingrim Nesfit, sole propiter of the wandering circus 'Troop and Troupe'! So, might one provide the same courtesy of giving their title and name? I would love to be acquainted with you, and so would my companions as well!" Ingrim's constructs arrived soon after he had spoke, they looked at her with questioning looks provided if she could even detect it with their inhuman bodies and faces.</s>
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<|message|>Amarilla Keton
Amarilla fidgeted excitedly at all of the commotion going on, first excited to see more from Ingrim's golem creations and intrigued at the idea of speaking to Bartimus more at some point about his people, and then immediately distracted by the presumably final members of the group arriving at last. She made her rounds once more, dashing around the ilithid to get a closer look - she had seen them mentioned on occasion in books but had little actual details to apply to them - all the while smiling still and showing no reservations about approaching the large, tentacled individual before briefly being distracted by Irthorne's reprimanding of the guard.
Not a moment later, after the yelling had subsided, Amarilla had once more altered her attention to face the spider-like humanoid who had appeared and been approached by Andrik. "Ohh, I like your bunches of arms, that's really interesting! Your clothes look nice, are they comfy? I bet they're comfy!" Following the excited statements and questions, she paused to wave and exclaim an excited "Hello!" to the final two newcomers, the young girl with the red eyes who first approached Irthorne, and the dapper gentleman who introduced himself as Lorrick. Amarilla was wondrously ecstatic at seeing so many people gathered to this one location.</s>
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<|description|>Ingrim Nesfit
Race: Gnome
Gender: Male
Age: 63
Appearance: Reaching to the prime height of his race, Ingrim reaches to the skies with his 3'6" little body. Plain and simple, he is short, but what else can you expect from this race? An older gnome, Ingrim was born with short snow white hair with a glorious handlebar mustache to signify his rather strange appearance as his clothing resemble that of a ring master from a circus. Yep, tail coat and the top hat included, Ingrim also carries around a spell imbued walking cane and metallic gauntlet with his generally black and red, golden trimmed clothing.
Personality and Motivations: He is weird, I'm just going to say right now that this character is just plain strange and rather awkward to be around when he speaks to anyone. He generally acts like a ring master, pompous, boisterous, and generally an attention hog. Ingrim, while sounding and most likely being a huge bother to everyone around him is quite kind as well. He likes putting on a show with his many creations, but he does it to help others around him... Generally. In the end, he is eccentric and possibly insane, but has a somewhat golden heart within that tiny body. Also, his motivation to enter this little dungeon crawl is to gather more resources and gold to create more magical objects, and old decrepit dungeons always has stuff to raid and loot for adventurers!
Class and Alignment: Neutral Artificer
History: Ingrim is a wandering adventurer, himself and his constructs roam the lands to entertain, fight, and gain money in the process. Gnomes have always had a knack for being rather playful and curious to boot which make adventuring wanderlust gnomes quite common in the line of business. Ingrim wasn't too different from the average gnome, but his affinity to magical construction raised a few eyebrows. The gnome focused more on constructing other beings to fight for him rather than his own body as getting hit with blunt and sharp weapons tend to kill people. It was only until a wandering circus had set up near his town that finally gave him the last push to finalize his plans of leaving his town to adventure, and that encounter has influenced some things about him.
So, he left and is now on the road with his constructs acting almost like a wandering circus... A wondering circus that can murder you with their dangerous weapons, but if you are a nice person they won't murder you. Generally, he just makes money off strangers preforming and doing quest to further expand his little menagerie of magical constructs to bring more fun to the world and also more power to defend and attack other people.
Equipment:
On person:
* Magical Cane - A short walking cane with a blue orb on the top which can fire out a Cone of Cold, can be fired three times a day and recharges at night.
* Magical Gauntlet - A metal gauntlet that is imbued with Dragon's Breath which fires out a cone of fire, can be fired three times a day and recharges at night.
* Bag - Assorted magical concoctions, empty scrolls, and basic survival equipment including a small journal and some ink.
* Crossbow - Just a crossbow, nothing too awe inspiring but a decent long ranged weapon that can do some damage.
Constructs
* Zip Zap - A metal dog reaching to the height of two feet is comprised of iron with their jaws lined with serrated blades of steel. Imbued with magic for their bites to send a powerful shock through the body.
* Match Stick - A metal dog reaching to the height of two feet is comprised of iron with their jaws lined with serrated blades of steel. Imbued with magic for their bites to burst in flames on contact.
* Pupsicle - A metal dog reaching to the height of two feet is comprised of iron with their jaws lined with serrated blades of steel. Imbued with magic for their bites to freeze the area on contact.
* Cross - A walking crossbow, this tiny construct is perched on the shoulder of the Ingrim that carries twenty bolts and fires at anything the master says so.
* Bow - A walking crossbow, this tiny construct is perched on the shoulder of the Ingrim that carries twenty bolts and fires at anything the master says so.
* Pack-Man - A walking chest with arms, this rather unsightly creation has several compartments to store a fair amount of objects, but it excels in supporting roles as it can forcibly remove objects by the owners will. This includes extra ammo, potions, and even stored weapons that scurries along the battlefield.
* Smokey The Thief - An 18 inch humanoid shadow, this little thing isn't meant for combat but for sneaking in the background to steal from unsuspecting enemies. They are fast, tiny, and can move almost undetectable in the darkness with a knack for stealing without anyone the wiser.
Skills and Spells: Nothing magical going on here, sure he can create magical items but no magic here. Nope. Well, he can create magical items... So I would actually say lots of potential spells that can be imbued in objects but nothing of the sort at the moment.
Miscellaneous:</s>
<|message|>Kara
Kara trekked down the simple dirt road towards the dungeon she had accepted the task of clearing out. Azarel was particularly enthusiastic about the endeavour. Guilt free LOVE from mindless, hateful undead was a thing he insisted she not pass up, and as always, she was inclined to agree. Of course, it was a bit of a walk. She didn't exactly have the luxury of having a tent to sleep wherever she wanted. The funds from this quest would help alleviate that.
There they are... chimed Azarel. He was talking about her help on the mission, many of which she would have a hard time pinning a race on. The world beyond her tribe was truly interesting. She wanted to ask all of these people what they did, how they got here, who they were. But the one that grabbed her eyes most was a black haired girl. She caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were red, like Kara's. Her back was covered too. Azarel, do you think she's a fairy aswell? Kara asked her partner. He took a second to respond, clearly looking over her features. She could be... but I don't know. I don't know what fairies look like outside of your clan. Red eyes could be something only you have. He reasoned. He would definitely ask her, at a later date. When they were alone and, if it came to blows...
Finally, she was close to them all, talking distance. She introduced herself to them all with a smile, a "Hello!", and the drawing of her dagger from its sheath. Personal introductions were to first be given to her boss. He had been insistent she not come because of her young age, unaware of her power beyond her light ability to draw power from ghosts and ability with her dagger. She was more insistent she ought to come, though, and seeing as she had no money, deigned to let her in on the quest. Apparently there was a necromancer inhabiting a nearby crypt. Though no dead had ever bothered her tribe, much closer to the crypt, tall dwarfs, dwarfs, and elves had insisted the place be cleared out. As Azarel suggested, not just elves were prone to fear, rage, and harm.
"Hello, Wizard Irthorne." Kara greeted, extending her dagger at him first, before realizing the faux pas and switching to her open left palm. "It is nice you allowed me to do work despite my young age. I won't let you down." With a smile that revealed she was, honestly, a little excited at the prospect of getting to harm something. Azarel certainly had been.</s>
<|message|>Lorick Lockwell
As more and more joined the group so did the Shadow get more and more curious. It traversed from one person's Shadow to the next getting a feel of their physical attributes. It was particularly curious about the mechanical contraptions. It was true that they had witnessed creations like those before but as much as people differed from each other so did the mind of inventors and in return so did the creations themselves. It was like seeing a new species everytime, no one built the same thing for the most part.
Well, it was time, Lorick thought to himself as he closed the clock and pocketed it. He got up, wiped away some dirt from his clothes and made for the others. A quite peculiar group indeed. He didn't need any introduction though as the Shadow was there to witness them all and what the Shadow knows he knows.
Cane in hand he approached the band.
"Apologies for my tardiness. My name is Lorick Lockwell and I'm looking forward to working with you all."- he introduced himself while taking a courteous bow. The Shadow seeing this, exaggerated the action in an attempt to mock him. Well, hope no one noticed that.</s>
<|message|>Masrith
Masrith rolled his wrists as the restraints were removed. He turned to see the group of people gather as well as Irthorne verbally tear into a guard. Masrith was somewhat surprised. Noone ever defended an Illithid. Masrith watched as the guards walked off. Masrith turned to face Irthorne and looked down at him. "I have nothing against them." The voice would ring in Irthornes head. "I apologize if this form of communication disturbs you. It is how Illithids communicate. We have no need for verbal speech." Masrith examined the group. "There are things the books do not say about them that I will need to note." His gaze turned back toward Irthorne. "My name is Masrith. I am what is known as an Illithid. Well, more specifically, an Ulitharid. I am physically powerful, but am mostly known for a powerful mind. If you seek a strategist or an individual who could help analyze predicaments or documents then I can certainly be of use. I can also link minds using my psionic abilities to allow groups to communicate." Masrith kneeled down and stuck out his hand. His body movements were somewhat awkward. "I'm have to inform you. I do not represent any form of authority from the Illithid empire. I was exiled at birth form my mutations registered me as an abomination. I hope you still view me as a reliable assest to the group."</s>
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<|message|>Ingrim Nesfit
Well, it had seemed the reception to his little act was just a bit half-baked for his taste. The only people that seemed to acknowledge his little sideshow were originally the two people at the current spot. Sure, others had joined in during his little introduction, but they didn't seem to pay much mind to the artificer and his many merry creations. The big guy, Kol'rakul, seemed to have had the best time out of his intro with his hearty laughs filling the air. Ingrim could tell by the looks of this strapping beast was someone earnest and filled with energy, but was using the energy for some good intentioned violent acts, hence the decapitated head of the highway man. The Ringleader liked this man, he could get a few laughs out of him, and possibly use his size and strength for other uses during the trip to the dungeon. "Well, I'm glad to be of service, Kol'rakul the Axeman, and I'll be sure to remember your applause during this adventure," Ingrim replied, his creations settling down from the previous excitement, though in the background seemed the same hooded lady was getting a closer look at his creations. "Ah! Someone curious about my comrades? Why, these amazing attractions have been created by yours truly with the help of some arcane magic to power up these magnificent beast! I have to say that these creations can do all sorts of amazing tricks, but you can see that later at one of my many shows across the land! 'The Troop and Troupe!'" Hopefully this would garner some attention to the gnome's little entertainment act, he did need some gold to continue this lifestyle, and the best way to show some appreciation would be to donate to his cause to bring safety and joy to all.
So, with the interactions between those two had been fulfilled, the contractor had said some things about more people arriving to this location. Wow, the dungeon might just be a tiny bit cramped with the amount of people entering this crypt, especially with all of his creations joining within the unstable cave. Ingrim was worried, if he was to be put inside of rear guard to protect the entrance of this cave, than that would mean less gold and materials for his many varied projects! This was grave news indeed, but hopefully something could be done to avoid being stuck with the boring job. Giving a light sigh to himself, the ringmaster turned to meet the rest of the adventurers that came with the same intent of adventure and gold. The fourth to arrive was some anthropomorphic beast, an owl by the looks of it, and surprisingly held himself up well compared to most other beings with their rambunctious behavior. Ingrim would have to take note of this, polite and well-armed. The fifth the arrive was someone of interest, a towering man clad in armor trugged through the field that almost seemed to be as well built as Kol'rakul! He had no idea of his origins, but Ingrim could tell that this man was someone of great skill with their battered skin and surprisingly wellkempt beard. Another person of importance, and another tall burly person to hide behind. The sixth to arrive was some tall dwarf, a woman tall dwarf with a hint of superiority with the stance and way they help themselves to the others. Strangly enough, this one seemed to know the axeman, small world seemed to the both, but Ingrim could tell that the distance the woman was keeping from him was someone that didn't want to be bothered by this certain gnome. Smiling, the gnome would like to know of their distance from the ringmaster, but the response was likely to be some pompous answer though it would be interesting to get some insight of changing something about his act.
The gnome managed to walk just a few steps towards Feon when suddenly more adventurers appeared from the brush! So many! And so much people only made this situation a bit worrying for the ringmaster. However, something more worrying towered over his concerns as some squid monster carried in chains was brought to the scene! A squid monster! How could they possibly allow this thing to join them on their travels!? Surly they had enough diversity with the owlman, but to bring such creature known for their rather despicable deeds... He would have to keep a close eye on the beast. And what do you know? Another anthropomorphic beast has emerged from the brush, a spider lady to be exact. Her figure said more than needed if someone was into that stuff, but alas her strange contraptions that had donned every limb has made piqued his interest even more. Ingrim would need to analyze those devices later in time, if they are attached to every limb than that would mean that it is something of importance and most likely a dangerous weapon. And lastly, but strangely enough that appeared to be the last adventurer of the group was... A child? Man, the owner must be quite desperate for help if they would allow such a young child to join in this dangerous quest. The Ringmaster would need to keep a close eye on this one as well, if nothing their skill must be something great to be allowed on this quest, and the death of a child would bring morale down quite low if they were to be allowed to meet such an early fate. Now, with everyone addressed within his mind, Ingrim the crafty taking his mental notes on how to approach and treat everyone was now going to annoy the crap out of the female that seemed to dislike the gnome.
"Well! How do you do?" Ingrim questioned, quickly walking over to the disinterested adventurer, "If you didn't hear, my name is Ingrim Nesfit, sole propiter of the wandering circus 'Troop and Troupe'! So, might one provide the same courtesy of giving their title and name? I would love to be acquainted with you, and so would my companions as well!" Ingrim's constructs arrived soon after he had spoke, they looked at her with questioning looks provided if she could even detect it with their inhuman bodies and faces.</s>
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<|description|>Ingrim Nesfit
Race: Gnome
Gender: Male
Age: 63
Appearance: Reaching to the prime height of his race, Ingrim reaches to the skies with his 3'6" little body. Plain and simple, he is short, but what else can you expect from this race? An older gnome, Ingrim was born with short snow white hair with a glorious handlebar mustache to signify his rather strange appearance as his clothing resemble that of a ring master from a circus. Yep, tail coat and the top hat included, Ingrim also carries around a spell imbued walking cane and metallic gauntlet with his generally black and red, golden trimmed clothing.
Personality and Motivations: He is weird, I'm just going to say right now that this character is just plain strange and rather awkward to be around when he speaks to anyone. He generally acts like a ring master, pompous, boisterous, and generally an attention hog. Ingrim, while sounding and most likely being a huge bother to everyone around him is quite kind as well. He likes putting on a show with his many creations, but he does it to help others around him... Generally. In the end, he is eccentric and possibly insane, but has a somewhat golden heart within that tiny body. Also, his motivation to enter this little dungeon crawl is to gather more resources and gold to create more magical objects, and old decrepit dungeons always has stuff to raid and loot for adventurers!
Class and Alignment: Neutral Artificer
History: Ingrim is a wandering adventurer, himself and his constructs roam the lands to entertain, fight, and gain money in the process. Gnomes have always had a knack for being rather playful and curious to boot which make adventuring wanderlust gnomes quite common in the line of business. Ingrim wasn't too different from the average gnome, but his affinity to magical construction raised a few eyebrows. The gnome focused more on constructing other beings to fight for him rather than his own body as getting hit with blunt and sharp weapons tend to kill people. It was only until a wandering circus had set up near his town that finally gave him the last push to finalize his plans of leaving his town to adventure, and that encounter has influenced some things about him.
So, he left and is now on the road with his constructs acting almost like a wandering circus... A wondering circus that can murder you with their dangerous weapons, but if you are a nice person they won't murder you. Generally, he just makes money off strangers preforming and doing quest to further expand his little menagerie of magical constructs to bring more fun to the world and also more power to defend and attack other people.
Equipment:
On person:
* Magical Cane - A short walking cane with a blue orb on the top which can fire out a Cone of Cold, can be fired three times a day and recharges at night.
* Magical Gauntlet - A metal gauntlet that is imbued with Dragon's Breath which fires out a cone of fire, can be fired three times a day and recharges at night.
* Bag - Assorted magical concoctions, empty scrolls, and basic survival equipment including a small journal and some ink.
* Crossbow - Just a crossbow, nothing too awe inspiring but a decent long ranged weapon that can do some damage.
Constructs
* Zip Zap - A metal dog reaching to the height of two feet is comprised of iron with their jaws lined with serrated blades of steel. Imbued with magic for their bites to send a powerful shock through the body.
* Match Stick - A metal dog reaching to the height of two feet is comprised of iron with their jaws lined with serrated blades of steel. Imbued with magic for their bites to burst in flames on contact.
* Pupsicle - A metal dog reaching to the height of two feet is comprised of iron with their jaws lined with serrated blades of steel. Imbued with magic for their bites to freeze the area on contact.
* Cross - A walking crossbow, this tiny construct is perched on the shoulder of the Ingrim that carries twenty bolts and fires at anything the master says so.
* Bow - A walking crossbow, this tiny construct is perched on the shoulder of the Ingrim that carries twenty bolts and fires at anything the master says so.
* Pack-Man - A walking chest with arms, this rather unsightly creation has several compartments to store a fair amount of objects, but it excels in supporting roles as it can forcibly remove objects by the owners will. This includes extra ammo, potions, and even stored weapons that scurries along the battlefield.
* Smokey The Thief - An 18 inch humanoid shadow, this little thing isn't meant for combat but for sneaking in the background to steal from unsuspecting enemies. They are fast, tiny, and can move almost undetectable in the darkness with a knack for stealing without anyone the wiser.
Skills and Spells: Nothing magical going on here, sure he can create magical items but no magic here. Nope. Well, he can create magical items... So I would actually say lots of potential spells that can be imbued in objects but nothing of the sort at the moment.
Miscellaneous:</s>
<|message|>Masrith
What sounded almost like a dark cackle slipped from Masrith. "I'm sorry. It's just....yes, I'm the doctor." Masriths'laugh was almost a little uncontrollable. His laughter was immediately silenced however. "Sorry. The irony is humorous. On a serious note, if we really are heading in to the what is believed to be a portion of the underdark, or atleast something relatively close, then you all should know something. A majority of encounters between deep dwellers and surface dwellers happens within three miles of the surface. So our presence could tip off a creature or two about where we entered. The top team may not be so bored after all." Masrith walked over to the entrance to the crypt. "I sent a message. I'll have my tools soon. If anyone doesn't want me operating on them then don't get infested with a parasitic organism. Please speak up if you do, most are rather large and will kill you in minutes...an hour if your stubborn."
Masrith observed the party he was chosen to go with. Looking at the group did give him one concern. This group didn't have any stick swingers, he figured it would help if atleast one primitive brute went with but he would never point this out. H waited for a minute or two before a man holding a case would run up to Masrith. Masrith opened the case to see an array of surgical equipment. Masrith reached into his pack to pull out a small page of what could be assumed as coin and handing it to the man before watching him run off.
OOC note: this is me asking permission to add surgical equipment to the list in my cs.
Masrith then walked into the first room of the crypt and wait. "I suppose I can augment myself psionically to make up for any strength we will need. First things first. As far as the formation goes. Whoever can't see in the dark should be in the middle. The ones who can should be infront as a guide, one in the back to notice if we are being tailed, and one in the center if there is room. I would suggest making as little noise as possible. Many creatures in the dark have well attuned hearing." Masrith wasn't sure how they were going to take the next bit of news. "I will psionically link our thoughts fpr easier communication. Simply think of what you want to say and I will transmit it. Please don't make me censor too much."</s>
<|message|>Kara
Kara - Surface ==> Crypt
Kara huffed a bit at Alea's accusation. Kara was offering her lunch, two lunches in fact! Kara would kill for charity like that, literally! Of course, that pailed in comparison to her next actions. The spider woman, now at eye level due to slightly crouching down, pinched Kara's cheek, and called her 'squishy.' Kara spared the spider no smile, not even a glare of hatred. All she offered was a simple response, straight faced with no emotion. "I assure you, all things are squishy when pierced." Before her dagger was fully raised though, the wing of Bartimus caught her eye in her peripheral vision.
"I am Bartimus. I am to be your... caretaker, as you like. I do hope we can get along, little one." He spoke softly, his rugged form accentuated in the sunlight. The sight of his plumage certainly made Kara more calm, and the idea of killing someone so baselessly in his presence seemed in poor taste. She responded with a curt and polite "Ah-I hope so as well, Bartimus." since her mind was frankly going a bit blank while looking at him. For now she'd try to keep professional, and stop looking at his chest so much.
That proved easy enough when Irthorne began a speech. Kara, Bartimus, the spiderwoman, and someone named Masrith and Amarilla. As long as neither of those two names belonged to the oddly dressed man with the dancing shadow, Kara was certainly fine with that arrangement. It seemed that neither was, as said man approached Irthorne with a request. Subtly getting a bit closer to listen in (not that the man bothered being quite or smart) Kara wasn't surprised to hear herself mentioned. He was trying to remove her guardian from the situation and get her alone in the crypt. She had to convince Irthorne to force him back to the surface.
"Ah, you're the kind of man who spends much time in caves and takes interest in young girls? Besides, Bartimus is warrior who I am proud to be the ward of. I will not budge on this matter." Kara said, hugging Bartimus purely as a gesture to garner belief and sympathy and nothing else at all. The blushing was for effect too. Either way, if Irthorne was sensitive enough to take pity on her, he'd keep strong in his choice of guardian. We'll have to take care of him later, be sure not to let him get away. Could be dangerous. Azarel reminded. Still, seemed like a better idea to put off the fight until either she had someone on her side, or she had more power backing her.</s>
<|message|>Amarilla Keton
Amarilla's maddeningly energetic fidgeting and movements finally ceased as Irthorne gathered the group's attention. It seemed the gnome was ready to unveil who would be going where. In an even split, it seemed Amarilla herself would be fortunate enough to be traveling in the crypt herself. How joyous she was at that thought, that she'd soon get to venture into those depths out of the pesky sunlight and see the inhabitants down below. Not that telling the difference between one level of excitement or another with Amarilla was an easy task.
Irthorne listed off the other individuals that would be entering as well. First, there was Bartimus who Amarilla was quite interested to learn about and after him, Skarrab-Alea who Amarilla was also interested in learning about. She hadn't yet placed the other two names to specific faces as of yet as she'd been too caught up in trying to get a good look at everyone all at once despite the harsh daylight, but she was easily able to narrow them down to belonging to the young girl and the ilithid as theirs were the only names she hadn't heard spoken aloud yet. Maybe. Amarilla was having a bit of trouble keeping track of all of these names and identities, she realized, as this was the first time she'd personally seen so many individuals gathered in one place.
Nonetheless, her theory about the names was more or less confirmed as she headed for the crypt as per Irthorne's instruction when Lorrick spoke up to dispute his position outside the crypt and who would watch the girl, and the ilithid moved from his current position to the crypt as well, with his own message; he was capable of linking thoughts? As in, a mass telepathic conversation, in some manner or another? Amarilla herself had no objection at the proposition, though she did find the thought of speaking without speaking to be something she was not at all familiar with.
"So, then, how does that wor -" she spoke up but stopped herself, then thought to the ilithid, Wait, so, is this how this works? I think at you? Is that right? Amarilla was uncertain if her thoughts were actually doing anything or if she was just thinking to herself and staring intensely at the ilithid.</s>
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<|message|>Ingrim Nesfit
Ingrim was interested in the attitude of the monk, the look of disdain in their look at the gnome combined with the dismissive words almost made the gnome wanting to laugh! "Well! Feon the Mercenary, such a drab title by the way, I would say that I've met my harumph-ers in my days on living on this world, but you are at the moment the one that has harumphed most of all! Now, I must say that it has been a pleasure meeting you and I hope you have a wonderful day," The ringmaster concluded, the dismissive wave brought upon by Feon hurting his pride just a tiny bit. So, as Ingrim turned away from the mercenary, the tiny gnome twisting the tips of his handlebar mustache indicating it as one of his quirks when feeling strong emotions. And right at that moment, Ingrim was feeling quite baffled by the sheer amount of rudeness that was brought upon him! He did expect a cold greeting from Feon, but such brazen disrespect was shoved straight into his face! Harrumph! She shall not get any help from him when the time comes!
As Ingrim silently fumed around the group, his little tiny face baring his rather rare frown, someone else was brought to his attention as some large tall-dwarf was in front of the tiny gnome. He asked questions, and behold it was questions about his magical and rather awesome constructs! This brought up his mood instantly, his creations had a special place in his heart and always loved about talking with others about their uniqueness. "Hello there, Andrik Nordin the Vaulter Explorer! I am glad that you have found myself and my creations something noteworthy to record for your race to study, I must thank you for this great honor," Ingrim stated, lightly bowing to the Norse-man, "I must say that it is quite common to get questions about my pets, but it is new that someone wants to know how these creatures work. I can lend you some notes later on about my creations, but I must first see if someone like you is trustworthy to learn of this knowledge. I would rather not have my beautiful creations squandered to be some war machine that is only recognized for their brutality! I hope you can understand for my precautions."
The gnome felt slightly bad for barring information against Andrik, but it was true that lending his notes of creating mechanical life could be easily used in the wrong hands. So, he shall have to wait to learn of their morals and actions, but at the moment he seemed a decent man. However, before he could get a better look at Andrik, Irthorne soon discussed the plans of separating the two groups due to the sheer size. And, sadly it seemed that Ingrim's name wasn't in the team for the underground adventure, but the prospect of being the rear guard was abolished as he soon learned that surface loot was hinted by the goblin with many things! Oh? That could be worth his time, and the extra payment couldn't hurt too bad. The gnome's sad outlook on being put at the surface was now abolished with the new idea of surface adventure and extra gold, but it did seem that he was going to be stuck with the rather rude lady in the end. However, Andrik and Kol'Rakul was joining him as well which excited the gnome.</s>
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<|description|>Bartimus Squawk.
Race:
Kenku. The bird people.
Gender:
Male.
Age:
27.
Appearance:
Bartimus stands at a full height of 5' and weighs around 60kg. He's MUSCLED. He has a humanoid body shape, wiry arms and firm legs attached to a torso rippling with pectoral and abdominal muscles. His arms end 4 fingered, birdlike hands and his legs stand upon four toed bird feet.
Unlike his crowlike cousins, Bartimus more resembles a great horned owl, with feathers of dusty brown, tan and black, a wicked curved beak and two feather tufts that look like horns.
He usually chooses to wear light cloth garb of various patterns and colors. He favors cooler colours like browns, tans and blues.
Personality and Motivations:
Bartimus Squawk is a hardened veteran of the open road and a stoic, loyal ally to have on one's side. He is cautious and wary at first but can be won over if shown that the intentions of the other party align with his. When on friendly terms, he is fond of sharing his tales of the road and hearing the stories others have been through. He can be fiercely competitive in some cases, martial pursuits especially, and is always open to a bit of friendly competition.
His motivations for travelling the roads and delving into dungeons galore is simple. He wishes to become the Battle Lord. A title he invented to mean, the undisputed master of all weaponry and combat. He wishes to master every weapon he gets his hands on. He pursues this goal to become the greatest fighter and one day return home to rescue his nest from the foul tyrant, Pterano, the Dreaded Wing.
Class and Alignment:
Neutral Good Fighter.
History:
* Was born to a nest of crows, where a mysterious stranger dropped him to be raised.
* Instead of working as a seed farmer, Bartimus heard the tales of the great heroes of his people. Ka'Zoo'Wi the Eggmaiden and Mepmep, Runner of the Roads. GREAT WARRIORS IN THEIR OWN RIGHT. He immediately began training to become a warrior.
* Days got darker as the tyrant Pterano the Dreaded Wing took the village by force. He dared any to challenge his might and rule, and Bartimus accepted.
* The resulting beatdown nearly killed poor Bartimus, but he managed to sneak away into a self-imposed exile until such a time that he can face and defeat the one holding his home in his clawed grip.
* Now Bartimus travels the roads looking for the greatest fighters and teachers to show him all that he can learn about the art of combat. One day he'll save his estranged crow people. One day.
Equipment:
Weapons: A silver arming sword, an iron shortsword, a shortbow and a leather quiver.
Clothing: Hooded cloth robes, hand and footwraps, multiple Kenku charms made of wood, hide, twine and feathers.
Backpack: Journal with quill made from his own feather, inkwell, whetstones, oil and rags, rope, sleeping roll, chalk, candles, flint and steel, pots, pans and eating utensils, survival knife, waterskin and trail rations.
Skills and Spells:
Simple Weapon, Martial Weapon, Exotic Weapon and Shield Proficiency Feats. All the fighter feats such as Cleave, Improved Critical, Spring Attack, Improved Initiative, Two-Weapon Fighting, Improved Unarmed Strike, etc.
Kenku have the ability of Mimicry, imitating any sound they hear or forging any handwriting they see. This vocal mimicry can be foiled by a good Wisdom score and the forgery by a good Intelligence score.
Increased Dexterity and Charisma. The latter due to his fluffy feathers.
Miscellaneous:
He may be a dangerous warrior but he's still very warm and fluffy.</s>
<|message|>Kol'Rakul, The Axeman
The sound of heavy and fast-paced footsteps resounded through the clearing. Through the brush and branches, the silhouette of a massive, impossibly well-built man neared, as he cheerfully sang a strange north-folk's song, nearly at the top of his lungs. His gait revealed his demeanor, and his demeanor was as cheerful as it could get. Yet, something was amiss. And that something was a trail of blood, the trickling originating near an object hanging from the barbarian's belt. As he neared, a wide, honest grin became visible on the northener's squared face, and two glazed over eyes twinkled beneath the shadows cast by the forest.
They were not his, however, but rather belonged to the severed head hanging on his hip. The barbarian's eyes were in fact closed, as he was deeply immersed in his this foreign tune of his. He quickly regained his composure though, after almost tripping on a rather sizable pebble, once again peered at the world around him. Quickly noticing the gnome he was supposed to meet, he quickened his pace, as it is never acceptable to leave one who you've stricken a pact with waiting, though that had the ill side-effect of making the head's tongue exit its' mouth and dangle freely.
Once he had found himself near the gnome, he halted, and respectfully greeted him, as he placed his massive axe head-down, and slightly leaned on it.
"HAIL MIGHTY WIZARD. IT IS I, THE AXEMAN, KOL'RAKUL, AND I HAVE COME TO PLEDGE MY WEAPON TO YOUR CAUSE AS REQUESTED. LONG LIVE YOUR KING AND CITY."
Noticing that due to his posture, blood had began to trickle down his leg, he untangled the trophy's hair from his belt and let it fall to the dirt. It rolled in the grass a few times, inching closer towards the gnome, before stopping, limp as always, with its' tongue still hanging out of a mouth filled with rotten, blackened teeth.
"DO NOT BE TAKEN ABACK, WISE GNOME, FOR THIS ONE WAS FROM A BANDIT, SO EAGER TO TEST HIS GROUP'S METTLE AGAINST UNSUSPECTING TRAVELERS. I HAVE BROUGHT HIM BACK, SO AS TO BE IDENTIFIED BY AUTHORITIES. YOU MAY LAY CLAIM TO THIS TROPHY. YES, THE AXEMAN BRINGS A GIFT OF GOOD WILL, HO-HO!"
Ah, the day was already off to a great start, and that raised Kol'Rakul's spirits. It always warmed his heart to see eager members of the court take up action against the forces that threatened their subjects, and this gnome seemed no exception. Whatever was coming, he was determined to face it.</s>
<|message|>Amarilla Keton
A series of rustling in the area's surrounding flora signified a sudden new arrival, as bursting forth from a bush was the figure of the young woman Amarilla, covered head to toe in leaves and blades of grass that had gotten stuck in her hair and on her cloak and clothing. The supply pouches tied at her waist rattled their contents around as she came to a sudden stop from the momentum she had gained running through the bushes and trees, just managing to stop herself from tripping over her own feet and several roots.
"Sorry, sorry, am I late?!" Amarilla shouted as she came into view Irthorne and the hulking man who had already arrived. She pulled her hood down somewhat to shield her eyes from the sunlight, but it did not hide a wide spread on her face despite the concerned question. She chuckled a little, adding, "I, uh, decided to go through the trees cause the sun was kinda bright and I guess I got a little turned around, whoops! Sorry about that!"
Taking a moment to survey the pair in front of her, Amarilla squinted from under her hood at the larger - significantly larger - of the two. It took her several seconds to do so, the sunlight forcing her to shut her eyes or turn her gaze to the ground a few times, but she was able to get the general picture even if she couldn't keep her eyes open long enough to absorb all of the details. "Hello, large man!" she announced cheerfully with a wave of one hand, readjusting her hood once more with the other. "Are you here to explore the crypt too? I sure am! It's nice to have someone big and tough on board for that sort of thing!"
During her entire greeting, she made no note or acknowledgement of the severed head lying on the ground between herself and the two other individuals, or the blood that broke up the green coloring of the ground. Whether she was unconcerned by those matters or simply didn't see them due to her hood covering her eyes was not quite immediately evident.</s>
<|message|>Ingrim Nesfit
Ingrim was excited for the prospect of this dungeon crawl, violence with the side of looting has always provided a hefty sum of materials and gold for any successful adventurers. The ringmaster has been quite low on resources for some time, maintenance for his many constructs has been a large drain on his funds and his profits from the sideshow hasn't done too well in the recent weeks. However, this wandering circus master had gotten messages about this adventure which will surely provide him for the materials to expand his army of constructed circus animals! It shall be glorious, the name of Ringmaster Ingrim Nesfit will ring throughout the ages as one of the most well-sought and popular circuses around the entire world, but also one of the most dangerous adventurers with his army of dangerous circus animals! It shall be the double whammy! Famous entertainer and adventurer! Ingrim laughed out loud from the thoughts of his future glory, "Onward! Match Stick! Zip Zap! Pupsicle! Faster! The future awaits us!" Ingrim yelled, mechanical barking celebrating along side their screaming master with the rest of his creations dancing with the thick excitement in the air.
The ride to the designated location didn't take too long after the celebration towards the future, and in the distance his image appeared as he drove the tiny carriage being powered by his magical mechanical dogs. Ingrim had spotted these new people in the distance as well, one was his gnome employer, the other was some large boisterous man, and the last being some pale hooded figure. The Ringmaster waved the three down as he approached the group, the speed of the carriage slowing down as the distance was quickly covered between the two points.
Reaching the employer and fellow adventurers, Ingrim stopped waving but the same plastered smile was stuck upon his face. Jumping off his tiny carriage, the three mechanical dogs unhinged themselves from their reins and were soon met with an extroverted greeting from the leader. "Hello! Ringmaster Ingrim Nesfit is here! Sole proprietor of the wandering circus 'Nesfit & Co.' And here is my company!" Soon after his statement, the dogs ran by his side with the rest of his constructs barreling out of his carriage to be introduced by Ingrim, "These adorable constructions here are my trusty hounds! Match Stick, Zip Zap, and Pupsicle! The little walking crossbows? Why they are the best darn sharpshooters in the region that can shoot the wings off of flies, Cross and Bow! Pack-Mate! The walking treasure chest, it can spit out and juggle over eight objects at once, an amazing feet to behold as it has no eyes!" The constructs, in unison started to bounce around directly after Ingrim finished his sentence, it was quite obvious that this is the introduction that the group does at almost every single town to gain attention, but strangely enough while putting on his show his top hat started to rumble above his head. "Oh! And how could I forget my most important friend!" Ingrim removed his top hat, darkness was filled within the inside before bright yellow eyes appeared out of the darkness of the hat, "My little friend here is Smokey! If you take your eyes off of him for just one second, he will disappear right before your eyes! And watch out, he sure does like shiny objects! So! How can 'Nesfit & Co.' assist you this fine day!"</s>
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<|message|>Bartimus Squawk.
The promise of deadly encounters and strong opponents in the request for help had already excited Bartimus beyond his reckoning. From the moment he got the request to assist with the spelunking of this forgotten, forbidden ruin of evil intent, his feathers had been ruffled and his sword hand itched with feverish excitement. He had walked for 2 days and 2 nights without rest just to be here at the agreed upon time, lugging his heavy pack clattering with pots and pans through wood and wind, hail and frost with no signs of slowing or stopping sheerly because of how much he relished the battle ahead.
It was for this reason that he was tied up in the higher branches of a rather large oak, with his pack hoisted on rope away from the earth to dangle next to him. Every warrior has their limits, and his was met in the dark of the night he had arrived. The cover of the tree's canopy hid him from sight, but his softly hooting snore was faintly audible, echoing past the leaves and being carried by the soft wind of the chilly spring morning.
He woke suddenly and looked up through the covering of leaves and twigs to see the warm light of the morning sun shining through. A moment's deliberation pushed him into moving as he set to untying the rope holding him to the tree and grabbed his pack, untying it as well before letting himself down as quickly as he could. He coiled the rope for later use and secured it to his pack before approaching the already gathered party with a twittering yawn. He checked his blades in their hip sheathes, his shining silver blade, polished to a mirror finish, and his shorter iron blade, showing the signs of use wth it's nicks and burrs, and its spots of rust near the guard. The shortbow and quiver secured to the side of his pack creaked and shuffled as he approached.
"You folk, no concern for the resting nomad. Clatter and clank and scream. Its enough to make a man wish for his nest again." Bartimus said as his feathers puffed up in the crisp morning air, making him look less warrior and more child's companion. He looked to Irthorne and gave a respectful nod, already familiar with the gnome's manner, "Where am I required? My heart is uneasy with all of my inactivity of late."</s>
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<|description|>Lorick Lockwell
Race: -- | Gender: Male | Class and Alignment: Neutral Evil
Age
22 years since the pact was made
Personality and Motivations
Guided by insurmountable greed, he craves all the knowledge and art among many other rarities to collect. He goes well with others as long as they prove useful and he will betray anyone if the profit gained surpasses the consequences, if there are any.
History
* The first thing he remembers is completing the infernal pact with a demon of greed. How high did the demon rank? He didn't know and only a fool would believe what a demon told them.
* Even before the pact he had 1 ability, shadow powers, which were seemingly lost, only his shadow remaining which he can merge with. He feels more complete than ever while in this state, giving the impression like his body is borrowed and he finaly achieved his true form.
* His life until now has been experiencing the best life has to offer, be it drinks, food, properties, women and many other delicacies. And he also slaughtered a whole Fae clan. The demon insisted on doing it, it wasn't him, although it technically WAS him doing all the killing but that's beside the point.
* Killing and replacing people has been his method of cheating through life. And he could as well be winning the race because he is living it to the max.
* After an uncountable number of things he has acquired, he felt the need for a safe so what better place then the Royal Treasury? He could get in and leave like he owned the place and that could very well be true if it wasn't for the drawbacks that came with it. He liked to move a lot you see, and a kingdom without a king is nothing but a ..dom.
Equipment
* Soul Dagger - A weightless dagger that can only be welded by the owner. Kinda like a soul security lock that only works with the right soul. It doesn't derive strength from the physical power but from the purity of the soul. Since he and his Shadow aren't even one, add being as impure as they come and the dagger will barely match a normal attack.
* Clock of Duality - A pocket watch with 2 clocks inside. One shows the normal time for the area where he currently is, the other is always one hour ahead. Once he makes a decision, if the clock that is one hour ahead stops, it means that that decision will lead to his direct death if it is within the hour, the exact time of it happening shown by the still hands. It only works if that is the last decision which leads to his death, which has to happen within the hour for the clock to show.
* Ring of the Lord - A ring which allows him to use force powers.He cannot buff himself directly by using it. After every use it needs to recharge, the time depending on how much force power was used.
* Coin of Finding - He thinks of something, flips the golden coin and if the thing he thought of really exists, an image of it will be carved on the front which will stay blank otherwise. The back side always being the same, with 2 more coins being portrayed in it. He then lets the coin fall into the ground where the coin moves towards the direction of the desired thing for 3 meters and then disappears, reappearing in his hand blank again.
* The Philosopher's Stone - A stone that lets him create anything he desires out of thin air. But he has yet to master even creating small knifes. Basically the only think he can create are small knifes which disappear after 10 seconds. The things are created, possessing no force or initial speed whatsoever and can only be summoned close to his person, in his hands. The cane is also a hidden sword. The sword is coated with a potent paralyses poison which takes effect within seconds.
Skills and Spells
* Doesn't need to sleep, eat or drink, though he does the last 2 for special occasions when the food or drink is particularly good and also to blend in, in some cases. He enters a form of sleeping when he becomes One with the Shadow.
* One with the Shadow - He enters a sort of meditative trance which allows his consciousness to skip his body and merge with the shadow. His body becomes dormant during this phase which also makes him the most vulnerable as if the body is destroyed, the shadow also ceases to exist in this world.
* Half Shadow - The Shadow being a part of him, also has some of his power within it and once it becomes dormant, the power he has is halved. The shadow, while merged with it, also becomes dormant if it suddenly becomes completely dark or there is a bright enough flash of light to extinguish all shadows hence blocking all ways of escape.
* Shapeshifter - One of the powers he got once signing the contract. He can morph to any humanoid creature, inheriting it's full abilities and memories, the latter is achieved by killing the humanoid he wants to morph to. He can also morph only parts of his body while the rest is something else.
* Hell Fire - Ethereal flames start burning the target's soul. They take on the color of the soul while burning, the color varies depending on many factors like the purity etc. As soon as he uses this power, his body turns to ash and he and his Shadow cease to exist in this world.
Living Shadow
* His Shadow seems to have a will of its own. Many times living the body without permission and other times staying dormant when its needed. What the Shadow experiences, knows, he knows and vice versa. The Shadow is a part of him and as so it actively tries to keep him out of danger, that being done either by scouting ahead, affecting the shadow of projectiles and objects so they miss, affecting the shadow of enemies to make them stop for a split second, controlling parts of the body of unaware people whose muscles aren't that active at the moment and, in rare cases even taking complete control of his body to achieve impossible feats though it goes dormant for some time after that, depending on how much it boosted him. It can also dim or extinguish small light sources and momentarily reduce the vision range over a dark area by making it darker.
* One with the Shadow - After merging with the Shadow he gains all of it's abilities but enhanced. He can influence the physical world by controlling the shadows of objects and live creatures, including humans, with force equal to lifting 200kg. As a basis he has instantaneous movement by moving from shadow to shadow but can't stray too far from the body or he will get teleported back to it, activating the body again while the Shadow becomes dormant.
Weaknesses - Holy Attacks, Spells and Objects.</s>
<|message|>Ingrim Nesfit
Ingrim was excited for the prospect of this dungeon crawl, violence with the side of looting has always provided a hefty sum of materials and gold for any successful adventurers. The ringmaster has been quite low on resources for some time, maintenance for his many constructs has been a large drain on his funds and his profits from the sideshow hasn't done too well in the recent weeks. However, this wandering circus master had gotten messages about this adventure which will surely provide him for the materials to expand his army of constructed circus animals! It shall be glorious, the name of Ringmaster Ingrim Nesfit will ring throughout the ages as one of the most well-sought and popular circuses around the entire world, but also one of the most dangerous adventurers with his army of dangerous circus animals! It shall be the double whammy! Famous entertainer and adventurer! Ingrim laughed out loud from the thoughts of his future glory, "Onward! Match Stick! Zip Zap! Pupsicle! Faster! The future awaits us!" Ingrim yelled, mechanical barking celebrating along side their screaming master with the rest of his creations dancing with the thick excitement in the air.
The ride to the designated location didn't take too long after the celebration towards the future, and in the distance his image appeared as he drove the tiny carriage being powered by his magical mechanical dogs. Ingrim had spotted these new people in the distance as well, one was his gnome employer, the other was some large boisterous man, and the last being some pale hooded figure. The Ringmaster waved the three down as he approached the group, the speed of the carriage slowing down as the distance was quickly covered between the two points.
Reaching the employer and fellow adventurers, Ingrim stopped waving but the same plastered smile was stuck upon his face. Jumping off his tiny carriage, the three mechanical dogs unhinged themselves from their reins and were soon met with an extroverted greeting from the leader. "Hello! Ringmaster Ingrim Nesfit is here! Sole proprietor of the wandering circus 'Nesfit & Co.' And here is my company!" Soon after his statement, the dogs ran by his side with the rest of his constructs barreling out of his carriage to be introduced by Ingrim, "These adorable constructions here are my trusty hounds! Match Stick, Zip Zap, and Pupsicle! The little walking crossbows? Why they are the best darn sharpshooters in the region that can shoot the wings off of flies, Cross and Bow! Pack-Mate! The walking treasure chest, it can spit out and juggle over eight objects at once, an amazing feet to behold as it has no eyes!" The constructs, in unison started to bounce around directly after Ingrim finished his sentence, it was quite obvious that this is the introduction that the group does at almost every single town to gain attention, but strangely enough while putting on his show his top hat started to rumble above his head. "Oh! And how could I forget my most important friend!" Ingrim removed his top hat, darkness was filled within the inside before bright yellow eyes appeared out of the darkness of the hat, "My little friend here is Smokey! If you take your eyes off of him for just one second, he will disappear right before your eyes! And watch out, he sure does like shiny objects! So! How can 'Nesfit & Co.' assist you this fine day!"</s>
<|message|>Bartimus Squawk.
The promise of deadly encounters and strong opponents in the request for help had already excited Bartimus beyond his reckoning. From the moment he got the request to assist with the spelunking of this forgotten, forbidden ruin of evil intent, his feathers had been ruffled and his sword hand itched with feverish excitement. He had walked for 2 days and 2 nights without rest just to be here at the agreed upon time, lugging his heavy pack clattering with pots and pans through wood and wind, hail and frost with no signs of slowing or stopping sheerly because of how much he relished the battle ahead.
It was for this reason that he was tied up in the higher branches of a rather large oak, with his pack hoisted on rope away from the earth to dangle next to him. Every warrior has their limits, and his was met in the dark of the night he had arrived. The cover of the tree's canopy hid him from sight, but his softly hooting snore was faintly audible, echoing past the leaves and being carried by the soft wind of the chilly spring morning.
He woke suddenly and looked up through the covering of leaves and twigs to see the warm light of the morning sun shining through. A moment's deliberation pushed him into moving as he set to untying the rope holding him to the tree and grabbed his pack, untying it as well before letting himself down as quickly as he could. He coiled the rope for later use and secured it to his pack before approaching the already gathered party with a twittering yawn. He checked his blades in their hip sheathes, his shining silver blade, polished to a mirror finish, and his shorter iron blade, showing the signs of use wth it's nicks and burrs, and its spots of rust near the guard. The shortbow and quiver secured to the side of his pack creaked and shuffled as he approached.
"You folk, no concern for the resting nomad. Clatter and clank and scream. Its enough to make a man wish for his nest again." Bartimus said as his feathers puffed up in the crisp morning air, making him look less warrior and more child's companion. He looked to Irthorne and gave a respectful nod, already familiar with the gnome's manner, "Where am I required? My heart is uneasy with all of my inactivity of late."</s>
<|message|>Andrik Nordin
Having heard many the story and read several books mentioning the undead, Andrik was looking forward to testing his metal vs the much feared horrors. A walking rotting corpse, he felt, did not pose as much threat has the various adventurers, tomes and minstrels had made out, at least to one armored and trained like him and his peoples warriors. Yet it never did to underestimate a foe and as such his entry in the tablet this morning made sure to direct his kinsmen to the various information on the undead lest it be his final one. Speaking of adventurers they were always a an interesting lot, full of tall tales and often unusual creatures in their own right, a useful source of information even if their stories were always filled with exaggerations of their own heroics.
The vaulter was currently carefully making his way through the forest, making sure not to make any unnecessary noise and keeping an eye out for danger. It would not do to be ambushed before reaching the meeting point. Now though, if there was any doubt that he was going the right way it was quickly dispelled by the loud chatter going on in a clearing before him. After Identifying the royal advisor Irthorne he strolled out of the forest eager to meet the interesting bunch of adventurers already assembled. "Greetings, I am Andrik Nordin the Vaulter." This loud introduction was probably the first indication those assembled had of the towering man clad in armor emerging from the woods was in the area. He carried a large metal round shield in his left hand and an odd vertically bowed crank operated crossbow hanging by a strap from his right shoulder. He wore a belt from which bolts for the crossbow along with a small runic flask, an icepick and a small iron bar wrapped in leather where hung. On his neck small purple scales can be seen growing, and around it are a jade medallion and a necklace of coral. His face is mostly hidden by a helmet and by a well kept beard. The backpack he was wearing was carefully sealed against the elements and thieves alike.
He takes a moment to examine those who have already arrived, particularly interested in the various mechanical contraptions of the gnome, the avian individual whose species he has not encountered before and slightly perturbed by the severed head on the floor. "It is good to meet you all, I hope this expedition will be one worthy of retelling"</s>
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<|message|>Lorick Lockwell
Quietly he traversed the greenery while admiring the nature all around. He was a man who admired everything of this world and enjoyed it to it's fullest. His Shadow rarely stayed with him when they were in private, as it too liked to explore and find more. If it wasn't for the invisible thread that kept them from being too far from each other, there was no doubt that it would already be halfway to the other side of the world the second it left him. As the Shadow was already by the entrance, only the gnome being there, most certainly the quest giver, he decided to wait until everyone was present or until they made for the tomb.
Sitting at the roots of a lush green tree he decided to pass time by playing his favorite game. It involved his Duality Clock and just deciding to do random actions. If something resulted in his death and he couldn't find the connection on how it was caused, +1 point. You would be surprised how randomly death befell the unlucky. Finding out those random things that triggered death, that was fun indeed.</s>
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<|description|>Masrith
Race: Ulitharid (subspecies of illithid)
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Appearance: Like other Ulitharids, he sands 6ft 7in tall. Has for tentacles on his back due to a mutation that formed during ceramorphisis.
Another mutation gave him three extra eyes. Has two slightly above his natural set of eyes as well as one that is in the center of the other four.
cdn.obsidianportal.com/assets/146477/t..
Personality and Motivations: Masrith hates everything. He ca be viewed as a racist because he sees every other race as only viable as food or slaves. Though he doesn't like to show it, he actually likes company as he was exiled from his home due to being a mutant. Masrith has the same motivations as any other of his race, to become immortal.
Class and Alignment: Evil psionic fist (it's a multiclass of psion and monk)
History: His life started as a larvae. Burrowing into the head of a mindless slave and devouring the brain and head. After attaching to the body, it underwent a process known as ceramorphisis. This is when the body alters and mutates to meet the needs of the larvae, eventually turning them into an Illithid or the much more rare Ulitharid. His body however, mutated far more that what was normal. After developing several mutations, he was held as an outcast. At first, he was sentenced to death, but after nobles consulted with the Elder brain, it decided that his stature being an Ulitharid was highly significant. Instead of being executed, Masrith was exiled to the surface world. They did not make him leave with nothing however. He was given clothes, several scrolls of knowledge about the ilithid empire and surface world. Since his exile, Masrith has primarily traveled on the outskirts on many villages, as illithids are viewed as monstrous creatures to most. He wold occasionally read the scrolls and books given to him to develop his abilities. After awhile, he heard the cries of help being needed about a crypt. Given the desperation, he figured he would be accepted. Especially because of his knowledge of creatures that inhabit the under-dark.
Equipment: A case of a wide variety of surgical equipment.
A pack with several books about his race, species of the surface (includes anatomy and such, like these species have been experimented on). Also includes books based on psionic abilities. Note these books are written in a strange form of brail that is only used by the illithids.
Standard Illithid armor vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/forgotten..
Skills and Spells: While Ulitharids are physically powerful, their most feared aspect is their intelligence and mental prowess. Has psionic abilities. This includes telepathic communication with any species, mental domination (strong willed people can resist this, this includes slight suggestions to full on mentally dominating someone), can cast illusions, form mental barriers(about as durable as a wooden shield) read minds of others, can physically augment his body to become faster, stronger, and to heal himself and others (though he cant regrow limbs). As a photographic memory, and an extremely high learning capacity. His center eye allows him to see in the dark. Can use his tentacles to grab others (though they can't function in using weapons) Note that their mental abilities do not work on undead with broken minds. Ex:zombies and skeletons.
Miscellaneous: Illithids are not well known. They rarely ever visit the surface, only going up for slaves and food. They are known for their mental prowess. Nothing else is known about the Illithids.</s>
<|message|>Andrik Nordin
Andrik quickly made a note of the new information after Skarrab-Alea went on her way and he was left in the company of the excitable Amarilla who had bombarded her with questions. He would need to make additional investigations into these weapons that were apparently advanced versions of some ongoing technology development, one that he would need to acquire either observation of or preferably acquire of some for investigation. The tribes, monasteries and towns he had previously encountered were clearly quite out of touch with the world's currently more advanced civilizations if he had not heard of something that appeared to be a well known development, at least to Skarrab-Alea's culture. He would need to perhaps make speed for the more southern and the apparently more advanced civilizations rather than making detailed notes on every settlement, oddity and creature he came across.
Although speaking of oddities and advanced technology all at once there was the traveling show-gnome and his mechanical constructs, who was somewhat conveniently introducing himself to the monk and the northerner. While he wandered over, imagining the hooded tall-dwarf would continue her manic introductions, he turned his attention to the two she would probably be speaking with. An aristocratic looking gentleman, though unlike the heavily armed if fancily clad Skarrab-Alea this one looked like he was out for an evening stroll rather than about to fight the undead. In the same vein the teenage girl was completely out of place, wearing a dress that had seen better days. Either the mission was going to be extremely easy or they were both incredibly dangerous. In the world above nothing was as it seems, so erring on the side of caution was always wise. Rule one, something he had learned at the monastery he received the jade amulet from, really applied to anyone who expressed more casual confidence than they really should and not just old bald smiling sweepers. The marauders that attacked the monastery learned that the hard way. He should probably add the pale hooded Amarilla with her serrated knife of those whose threat was not obvious, her demeanor perhaps a cunning disguise, though the various Alchemist's supplies indicated she was perhaps here to provide medical assistance.
But for now he would attempt to strike up conversation with the monk, the gnome Ingrim and the axman Kol'rakul, whose 2 loud introductions he had head on his approach. He walked up just after Ingrim asked his question, nodded to the axman and waited for the monk to respond.</s>
<|message|>Kol'Rakul, The Axeman
Kol'Rakul gave an earnest smile smile at the Kenku. He was, to say the least, honored both by the owl-man's apparent respect towards the ways of the axe, as well as his firm greeting and humble nature. He could have sat and talked with that one for hours, both of the art of combat, and of their respective homelands. Oh the stories they could share. Yet, it seemed that the advisor had need of him, and thus, it would not be proper to further stall Bartimus. Unleashing a great guffaw at his (quite accurate) observation of the common axe-handler, he resumed his seating position and stuffed his mouth with a piece of meatbread. Just as he had swallowed the massive chunk, he heard the ringmaster's voice addressing him. Apparently, he had noticed his cheering, and had returned a kind word as well, stating that he remembers those who applaud. Truth be told, the Axeman had no intention of gaining the gnome's favor, and that made the latter's comment all the more pleasant to the barbarian's ears. Truly, bonds of companionship are better than trade-like ones, especially in glorious battle and high adventure. Seeing as the gnome was occupied with socializing, all that the barbarian did was to give the ringleader a playful wink and a wide smile.
Yet, before he could down another mouthful of the delicacy he had packed with him, he could not help but stare, somewhat indiscreetly, at the newest arrival. A spider-like woman had shown her rather odd face, and was locked in conversation with the Vaulter. The vaulter himself had raised some questions of a far more benign nature as well, namely the pick-like tool he carried with him, along with the rumors he had heard of his kind being sighted in the north, had stirred up an all-too familiar feeling within Kol'Rakul's heart. And for him to be a warrior to boot? Well, approaching him would be inevitable. He was especially curious of how the man could fight with both spear and crossbow, while bearing a shield. All in good time, he though. Turning back his attention towards the spider-creature, he recalled tales of a raiding party he had joined not long ago, in the days where they assaulted the subterranean lair of the Demon-Conjurer Anbyn-Gir, speaking of spider-like tallfellows in the deep places of the earth. Even though the creature had an air of regal superiority by the way it talked and moved, the barbarian was quick to mentally scold himself for being quick to judge. It was here to help, after all, for one reason or another. And that was enough.
Before he could form another thought on the matter, he was quick to react and turn around, as the wizard was loudly reprimanding a couple of guards, for depriving the freedom of a... Deep-dweller? Foul, disgusting enslaver of men and breaker of wills? Truth be told, the Axeman had little clue of the creatures, save for some first-hand experience of their abilities, and of their usually violent nature. Yes, a few of the creatures' companions had even been caught in the arc of Kol'Rakul's blade. Yet, this one seemed different. Larger, and more fierce. And, by the looks of it, it was here to join on this quest. Whatever the case may be, the gigantic man gave him the benefit of the doubt, but decided he'd keep a close eye on the deep-dweller, especially if it neared poor Feon, to take advantage of her unique condition. Averting his gaze from the beast, and focusing back on his lunch, the barbarian was once again quick to divert his attention elsewhere, as what seemed to be a formless shadow with no owner hopped from here to there. What sort of dark sorcery was that? Was it of the deep-dweller? Of the spider-woman? As he was about to brandish his axe, the shadow quickly darted towards a new arrival.
It seemed that a well-dressed man had appeared, and oh how he made Kol'Rakul wary. He seemed like a cross between a sorcerer up to no good and a deceitful merchant, and the Axeman had met more than he could count in his travels. Despite his strange shadow-sorcery, the man was polite enough to introduce himself to the party. Kol'Rakul shuffled about, still seated, to face the man, and raised his right hand high to greet him. "HAIL, SHARPLY-DRESSED ONE! IT SEEMS YOUR SHADOW IS UNRULY! WHY, YOU OUGHT TO DISCIPLINE IT, LEST IT RUNS OFF! HAW-HAW!" He did seem awfully shifty, but having come to the city's aid, much like the others, made the Axeman conclude that he posed no immediate threat. "CARE FOR SOME MEATBREAD?" He motioned to the small mountain next to him. And speaking of which, knowing Feon's massive appetite, he grabbed a hefty piece of said treat and tossed it over to the monk. "HEY, FEON! CATCH! THERE'S ENOUGH FOR EVERYONE!"
After all the introductions seemed to be over, the barbarian could once again relax and enjoy the morning. Taking a gulp off of his mead horn, he leaned slightly back, supporting himself with his right hand, which was still clutching his axe. As his now relaxed eyes skimmed through every present member of the menagerie, he nearly blew mead out of his nose at the sight of a little girl speaking with the gnome. This was no place for children, no place at all. They should be comfortable at home, learning their runes, or letters, and hunting with their fathers for hares, elk or whatever it was that children in these lands did. Slouching forward, and supporting himself by his knees, he carefully observed the newcomer. It seemed that the child, even though filthy and alone, freely brandished a knife. Even though one part of Kol'Rakul felt happy for this one's fighting spirit, he was heavily alarmed at the sight of her. He had heard of beings taking on guises of innocence, though he could not for the life of him pinpoint what it was. He settled with observing the child from afar, as it conversed with the wizard.</s>
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<|message|>Masrith
Masrith still wanted to speak on the matter of the journey with Irthorne but couldn't as Irthorne was busy tending to other matter. Masrith tried to speak up but slipped. Instead of sending a mental message, a giggles hiss came from his mouth. Masrith froze a little before backing off. He observed the group. Everyone was making their own conversation and small talk with others. The saddest part was that Masrith could not verbally understand a single word they were speaking. He relied on reading surface thoughts to translate and properly communicate. Masrith looked for an empty spot to sit down. It didn't take long before that objective was met. He took a seat and opened his back, pulling out several books. He opened them and began to read several at a time. His mental notes being somewhat scattered. There were several brutish looking tall dwarves that appear to make good slaves or hosts for the process of ceramorphosis. The owl creature somewhat peaked his interest. The body of the figure seemed well toned but his equipment did not seem to be a heavy load. Perhaps his wings were not as strong as the owl wanted people to believe. The humanoid spider was next. The exo skeleton was a good thought. Perhaps against slashing weapons, but brute force like a hammer or mace could still mash up the insides, like shaking a crate with glass items in it. A curiosity formed. Were the exo skeletal plates weak or absent around her joints to allow maximum flexibility? If so, her joints may be easily severed if necessary.
A gnome with various contraptions also peaked a thought. If they responded to verbal command, then perhaps mentally dominating the creater would allow control over the various forms of metal creatures. Further mental analysis would be required. A monk named Feon was next. A sort of mental feeblety could be sensed. It was interesting, her physical nature wouod not be a threat if her mental domain was not in order. Perhaps training her in psionic reinforcement to develop a friendship would allow easier access to her mind. Once she became familiar, I could establish a mental link and dominate her.
This of course were only thoughts if Masrith was to be betrayed. He knew his race was despised so having a contingency plan was almost nessecary. The gnome with the contraptions, eating his brain would be nice. He intelligence may make a perfect host for ceramorphosis. These were just thoughts though. It wasn't like it would be plausible.
Masrith figured he should just play the role they give him. He doesn't have any people who care about him or even a home to go to.</s>
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<|description|>Kara
Race: Fairy
Gender: Female
Age: 14
Personality and Motivations: Kara is a very curious young lady. She is eager to know things and to see new people. Of course, this doesn't mean she trusts people implicitly. Not anymore at least. In fact, her hatred of elves reaches almost kill on sight territory. She does trust Azarel though, to a ridiculous extent. If he says 'Jump' she says 'How high?',and if he said 'Past the stars' then she'd find a way. Along with this, her parents didn't teach her much in the ways of morality. Overall, this has turned her into a creature evil, but bearing no ill will towards anyone inherently (again, except elves.) Currently, her main goal with this mission is to gain LOVE worry free. After all, these are all bad, and even brainless people. What could go wrong?
Class and Alignment: Evil Shaman
Fairy History: Fairies were tallfellows blessed by the god Lo'Ke for their dedication to mischief, and making other people's lives generally worse. They were given the power to absorb negative energies. After a while, magus began to study this ability, officially and ironically dubbed LOVE. Once this ability was discovered, Fairies were put on watch.
Either because of this or in spite of it, a fairy, who's appearance, gender, and past are lost to time, named Morgan went on a rampage, collecting an immense amount of LOVE through the deaths of others. It took 6 powerful mages to take them down. After this, many fairies willfully moved into tribes deep in the forest. Those who didn't were heavily discriminated against which, obviously, led to an increase in power. Inner-city fairies became feared and many were killed.
This was all a long time ago. There are almost no inner-city fairies now, and if they do exist, they hide their heritage. The tribes are much better off, not thriving but some did well and, after many years, could even trade with ignorant villages. This leads us to the present day, and our main character, Kara.
* Kara was born in a small tribe of fairies, creatures exiled for mischievous nature and the evil nature of their power.
* Had many friends in the village and a loving mother and father (even if they lacked much in the way of a moral compass)
* Occasionally, Kara would play with an elf boy from a nearby village named Azarel.
* Once Kara's parents found out about this liaison, they swiftly attempted to end his life.
* Kara intervened, and convinced their parents to stand down. After giving him medical care, he returned home.
* The elves from Azarel's village attacked the fairy tribe the next day, after he told them of his friend and her parent's attempt on his life.
* Many fairies, not having a high LOVE, were slaughtered.
* Kara's parents were able to use the LOVE they had gained recently to save Kara and put them into hiding, though only after her wings had been clipped clean off.
* After a day of hiding, Kara returned to the surface to see the absolute carnage her tribe had gone through. All of her fellow fairies were dead, but only one elf had died. Azarel.
* Absolutely shattered, Kara was going to end herself with her gardening dagger, but heard a voice. The voice of Azarel.
* Though he had died, his spirit lingered, and found her body. They could stay together forever.
* This certainly softened the blow for Kara, and she found the determination to keep on living.
* Now, Kara wanders the land, gathering enough LOVE to hopefully return to the elf village, to Slaughter. Them. All.
Equipment
* Dagger - A gardening dagger Kara had obtained from her parents.
* Ribbon - A relic of a dead friend. Can grant a boost to Charisma for a short amount of time twice before needing to recharge.
* Boots - A relic of a dead friend. Can grant a boost to Speed for a short amount of time twice before needing to recharge.
* Bandana - A relic of a dead friend. Can grant a boost to Strength for a short amount of time twice before needing to recharge.
* Journal - A relic of a dead friend. Can grant a boost to Wisdom for a short amount of time twice before needing to recharge.
* Apron - A relic of a dead friend. Can grant a boost to Constitution and cures light wounds for a short amount of time twice before needing to recharge.
* Hat - A relic of a dead friend. Can grant a boost to Dexterity for a short amount of time twice before needing to recharge.
* Lockett - A special heart-shaped locket Azarel had made for her.
Skills and Spells
* LOVE - Standing for Level Of Verified Exasperation, fairies have the unique ability to absorb negative energies from those they've wronged. The stronger the feeling, the more power they gain. Playing a prank on someone wouldn't provide much. Murder gives a more definite boost.
* Flight - Kara used to be able to fly, though her wings have been clipped completely off. If someone were to get her a fairly powerful healing spell, she may be able to fly again, though not as well.
* Fairy Physiology - Fairies are fairly similar to Tall Dwarves, so Kara has about the strength and constitution of a standard 14 year old girl. Not much, to say the least.
* Gardening - Kara has a love of gardening, and is quite the green thumb. She can grow numerous kinds of Mushrooms, vegetables, flowers and fruits. She can even identify if something is poisonous and do some minor cross-species pollination.
Miscellaneous: FIGHT</s>
<|message|>Masrith
Masrith still wanted to speak on the matter of the journey with Irthorne but couldn't as Irthorne was busy tending to other matter. Masrith tried to speak up but slipped. Instead of sending a mental message, a giggles hiss came from his mouth. Masrith froze a little before backing off. He observed the group. Everyone was making their own conversation and small talk with others. The saddest part was that Masrith could not verbally understand a single word they were speaking. He relied on reading surface thoughts to translate and properly communicate. Masrith looked for an empty spot to sit down. It didn't take long before that objective was met. He took a seat and opened his back, pulling out several books. He opened them and began to read several at a time. His mental notes being somewhat scattered. There were several brutish looking tall dwarves that appear to make good slaves or hosts for the process of ceramorphosis. The owl creature somewhat peaked his interest. The body of the figure seemed well toned but his equipment did not seem to be a heavy load. Perhaps his wings were not as strong as the owl wanted people to believe. The humanoid spider was next. The exo skeleton was a good thought. Perhaps against slashing weapons, but brute force like a hammer or mace could still mash up the insides, like shaking a crate with glass items in it. A curiosity formed. Were the exo skeletal plates weak or absent around her joints to allow maximum flexibility? If so, her joints may be easily severed if necessary.
A gnome with various contraptions also peaked a thought. If they responded to verbal command, then perhaps mentally dominating the creater would allow control over the various forms of metal creatures. Further mental analysis would be required. A monk named Feon was next. A sort of mental feeblety could be sensed. It was interesting, her physical nature wouod not be a threat if her mental domain was not in order. Perhaps training her in psionic reinforcement to develop a friendship would allow easier access to her mind. Once she became familiar, I could establish a mental link and dominate her.
This of course were only thoughts if Masrith was to be betrayed. He knew his race was despised so having a contingency plan was almost nessecary. The gnome with the contraptions, eating his brain would be nice. He intelligence may make a perfect host for ceramorphosis. These were just thoughts though. It wasn't like it would be plausible.
Masrith figured he should just play the role they give him. He doesn't have any people who care about him or even a home to go to.</s>
<|message|>Lorick Lockwell
Well, so much for being a shadow, the one thing it didn't act like. Suddenly the Shadow moved towards the location of the Ulithard. He had heard of such creatures but never seen one in real life. Furthermore, their anatomy wasn't completely clear so he couldn't just morph into it. Maybe if he observed it from a closer distance, even conversing with it, he could get a better feel. And if push comes to shove he could just kill the monster to get all the information. As the Shadow joined the creatures own shadow it noticed, it was different. Now that Lorick remembered, all the pictures he had seen, this creature was definitely different from their race. A new evolution pattern maybe? A mutation?
Hearing the barbarian speak he said: "Thank you but there is no need, I ate just before leaving for this ordeal."- politely refusing the Axeman's offer.
As he was about to turn his attention to Masrith, the temptation in him got too strong. Suddenly turning his head towarss the fairy. A desire to kill, no, eradicate sparkled inside him. Even after completing his end of the deal to gain this body, the demon still affected him with it's selfish desires. He never learned why it hated the fae so fanatically. Looking at the fae he licked his lips in excitement, the thought of plunging into her passed his mind for a split second.
Mustering his will, he turned away from the wingless fae and approached the Ulithard. Standing before him, it was reading a strange book, until the creature looked up.
"In case you missed it, my name is Lorick Lockwell. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."- he thought in hopes that the creature understood him. And before the creature could got up, he sat down beside it, keeping a comfortable distance for both of them.
"Have you found anything of interest in this group?"</s>
<|message|>Feon Gilman
Feon had been busy looking at all of the other newcomers. The shadow man didn't quite rub her the right way. Something was off about him, very off. Then there was the tentacle faced creature. She had heard of them before but couldn't remeber what they were called. Their mind control however worried her the most. If that thing ever got too close to her she would end up punching it in the face without a second though.
That was when she turned her head to see meat bread flying at it. Her eyes widened with what looked to be joy and grabbed it then quickly started eating it. If there was one thing that she loved it was food. And meat bread, while it wasn't her favorite would still bring her alot of joy.
Feon then turned her attention to the gnome that seemed to approaching her. He looked quite annoying too. He introduced himself as Ingrim and stated that his contraptions wanted to get to know her. "I'm known as Feon the Mercenary." Feon stated it wasn't much of a title but it would do for now. "And I have no interest in your contraptions. I'm sorry but I never did like noisy things like those, not everyone enjoys a circus you know." Feon added giving him a wave and going to sit down near Kol'Rakul with her own meat bread and started to eat. She was certainly the hungry type from the looks of things too.</s>
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<|message|>Kara
Kara - Surface
Kara smiled at her boss's insistence she stay close to him or his presumed second had, but her eyes told him all he needed to know. There was a certain hatred she had for being pitied or given special treatment. As soon as possible she'd show them her prowess with a knife. , if need be. But that was neither here nor there. For now, Kara ought to have a chat with the others like the wizard had suggested. Hopefully one of them would neglect to look down at her. She looked around to see who to talk to.
The group that got Kara's attention the fastest was a coalition of four. A simple looking tallfellow, wrapped in robes and baggy clothing, with her only weapon seemingly being her fists. There was also someone incredibly short, shorter than her even. A dwarf, maybe? He seemed quite old and had metal animals with him. Adjacent to both of them was an armor clad figure who looked like a mix of a dwarf and a tall dwarf, if that even made any sense. The last person there, though certainly not the least, was an axe-wielding tallfellow who had no voice beyond that of shouting and was staring at Kara. He seemed distrustful, but also concerned. She gave him that same smile with eyes laced of hatred that she had directed towards the wizard. If he knew she was a fairy, she was going to try and dissuade him from making that fact public.
Conversing with that group wasn't an option it seemed, not with one member already suspicious. There was the oddly dressed fellow, whose shadow seemed to dance and move like a creature of it's own, and he seemed to be eyeing her. I don't like that guy, Kara... Azarel commented, fear and worry evident in his voice. We ought to take him out before he hurts you. Kara was inclined to agree, there was a burning passion within him and for a second, Kara would have sworn he could be seen licking his lips. She would not bother speaking to him either, both of their intentions for each other were clear.
Maybe she ought to talk to the man who would be watching over her? Bartimus was his name, if Irthorne was to be believed. He was the bird-looking man, quite tall, muscled, manly and mature. But also soft, approachable, even... attractive. Are you alright, Kara? Azarel asked again, oblivious to Kara's conflicted feelings. She responded with a small I'm fine. Before turning away and directing her attention towards something else.
Lastly, there were the two other odd races, both with 5 eyes, and purple, but beyond that there wasn't much similarity. The woman had six arms, as well as some odd-looking devices on them, and her feet. Flintlocks, they were called. Apparently they were important. Kara would introduce herself to her first. Getting a bit closer to the spider-woman, Kara gave a small wave to her to grab her attention. "Hello, Miss Alea. It's nice to be working with you." Kara complemented, before realizing she didn't actually have a conversation topic. Panicking, she brought it back to her favorite hobby, botany. "Uhm, do you like plants? I could use some help with all the bugs that get in my gardens; I wouldn't mind you eating them, and I could even share some fruit with you too."</s>
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<|description|>Tye Callahan
Tye "The Brutal Artist" Callahan
E D U C A T I O N :
Masters in Professional Violence
Bachelor in Art of Torture
S K I L L S :
* Close Quarters Combat
* Marksmanship/Firearms
* Interrogation
* Great Physical Condition
* High IQ
* Cybernetic Enhancements (Arms/Legs/Eyes/Lung)
* Improvisation
E X P E R I E N C E :
* Heart of Stone:When I was thirteen, I wanted to be inducted into my dad's gang, he asked me to kill someone. So I brought him the heart of his enemy on his dinner plate.
* Sins of my FatherThe committee decided they wanted my father to retire, so I retired him for them when I crushed his skull beneath my boot.
* The Last Enemy that Shall Be DestroyedI lost my left arm and half a lung during a bombing assault, so then proceeded to kill the attacker with his own grenade belt down his throat.
S I G N A T U R E M O V E S :
* Tyson: Tye's cybernetic fists fully charge and he unleashes a fury of blows that hold ten times more power than normal.
* Lee: Tye's cybernetic legs fully charge and he unleashes a barrage of high power kicks.
* Dirty Harry: Tye very simply puts his hand through his opponents chest and rips out their heart.
Tell me a little about yourself...
I don't talk a lot. I read a lot and I keep myself to myself. You need someone to talk or you need someone dead, I don't ask questions. I just do it and I move on to the next thing. I don't like guns, swords and the other crap people use. I like to use my hands, it's a truer test of oneself. The true measure of a man is not that he can kill, it is how he does it.
Why do you want this job?
I'm bored and I like to hurt people. Seems like a logical step.
How are you qualified?
Across about four skylines, the name Callahan rings out. It used to be cos of the way my father did his business. After I crushed his skull with my own boot, that changed. My creed of fear has spread to different skylines and people know that when the hire me, they get results.
What is it you expect to receive in return?
Maybe I'll finally find someone who can put up a fight.
B I O G R A P H Y
Life on Mars:
Callahan, a name that rang out across several Skylines. The Callahan Syndicate were well known thugs for hire, ran by a committee of brothers, one of whom had a child, Tye. THe story of his mother is unknown. The boy was raised amongst violence and murder, his body infected with the fever that made men cruel. The Callahan's were notorious for making their kills feel very personal, even if they did not known their intended victim. Often, they beat and torture their targets until finally granting them death. It was this particular practice that Tye himself would become well known for. In order to join the syndicate, Tye had to kill. He was thirteen when assigned Mao Raito as a target. Disguising himself as a street urchin, the boy found his way through Mao's personal guard and face to face with him in a resteraunt toilet; he proceeded to down him and cut out his heart. If Tye was going be violent, he was going to be a professional about it.
Dead Men Tell No Lies:
A series of unfortunate events led to Tye's father being incarcerated and pressured to turn on the Syndicate. Thus the committee settled on sending the brutal Tye to deliver a message to any would be rat. Once again using a disguise, young Tye broke into HQ and without a second thought proceeded to torture his father, breaking his bones with a hammer until finally crushing his skull beneath his boot. It became obvious to all from then on that Tye's loyalty was not to money or to family, it was to the fever, the rage, the glow of violence. He simply wanted to fight until he couldn't any more.
Professional Violence:
Tye felt trapped within the Syndicate and opted to leave. Of course they would not let him go quietly into the night so he proceeded to destroy the committee with a little subterfuge. Through some back channels, Tye organised a mass bombing of Callahan businesses and safe houses. Near enough to everyone was killed; any that survived would stay away from the business for life out of fear. Int he ensuing chaos, Tye himself was accidentally caught in the blast, destroying his left arm and lung. As revenge, he sought out the attacker and shoved a grenade down his throat. He underwent cybernetic replacement surgery on his arm but then proceeded to upgrade other apendages as well, seeing them as simply another way to increase his chances in a fight.
Since then, Tye has jumped from Skyline to Skyline, working for whomever bids highest and doing the dirty, bloody jobs that no one else would take. The name Callahan still rings out but not for a gang but for a man; a man of pain and bloody glory. He is in the business of Profession Violence. He is a Brutal Artist.</s>
<|message|>Alice 'Blink' Springfield
Blink
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Skyline Galea, Sopor
Galea Maejor Resort
Executive Conference Room
Left Central Seating Area, Back Row, Aisle Seat
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In the polluted sunset light of the conference room's torches, Alice ran her tongue over her teeth as she locked eyes with a particularly striking near-human synth dame four rows over. Her advanced polymer case was shining beneath the formal business button-up that she continued to pull at. Her gaze kept meeting Alice's before falling quickly, only to rise again and meet Alice's static-plagued globes.
Alice took a deep breath and turned her gaze from the synth to drop back into listening, sheathed blade on her lap continuing to poke the elderly man in the business plugsuit next to her. Her brow furrowed as much of the business and administrative jargon flew over her head. Her face lacked features aside from eyebrows and a pair of eyes. Waves of digital snow and minute chroma noise rippled over where she should have had mouth and nose, and the silhouette of her skin wavered with VHS crosstalk.
The nature of her contract was... vague. Her purpose on this new job was something she needed to inquire about but the prospect of being able to do the work she loved for someone in such a position of power excited her. Already, she was beginning to envision her duties as an elite bodyguard for the upper echelon of society, or as captain of her own private security firm. The income prospects made her little heart race.
The meeting of the suits and the scum ended promptly, the many in attendance beginning to shuffle and move from their seats. Alice had risen, ignoring the yearning electric stare from the synthwoman to push her way through the surge of people trying to exit.
She had a burning question to ask her new employer. Something that her boss could answer to her right now.
"Bossman! Got a question. This contract we got. If I'm working with you now, what do y'want me t'be doing? Bodyguard, all stuck to your side-like? I'll make sure any hand y'shake does it under my cutter, easy. Just say th'word."</s>
<|message|>Taleste Jot-Anne
T A L E S T E
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Skyline Galea, Sopor
Galea Maejor Resort
Executive Conference Room
Rear Right Standing Zone
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Taleste was paying attention to this speech, but only retained anything that was of interest to her, which wasn't much of it. All she gathered from this is that her new boss had an agenda that didn't concern her, and many of the people around her were aliens. She could have guessed that much. In fact, it was fair to say she was only a handful of the new employees who were actually born on this planet.
Throughout the speech, the male crooks surrounding Taleste sneered at her, gave low wolf whistles, stared at her cleavage, and occasionally put their hands on her. Every time they did, she glared at them and they stopped. She was no threat to them, but they didn't know that. Most people hired here were ruthless killers. All she had to do was act like she was the type of person who will cut off your hand if you try that again, and they believed her and backed off.
By the end of the speech, she had stolen money from every crook standing around her. That was why she had opted to wear this distracting vest, despite the air conditioning in this room making it rather cool and making her wish she was wearing something a little warmer. After all, what she'd taken was small change. She'd rather be warm right now. She just had no love for aliens who come to this planet and take the most prestigious jobs. Then again, that's the luxury afforded by reputation, and Taleste knew she had the skill for such a one. She just needed the opportunity, and this job was going to give it to her.
The people were clearing out now. She made her way over to one of the segmented floating palm trees adorning either side of the door out, and stood with her back to the wall, letting everybody file out. Probably to go and get drunk. She'd leave last, behind all the rich guys in suits. Now they'd probably be carrying round some decent cash. And they wouldn't find her waiting there suspicious. She just wanted to talk to the boss, if they asked.</s>
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<|message|>Tye Callahan
T Y E C A L L A H A N
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Skyline Galea, Sopor
Galea Maejor Resort
Executive Conference Room
Rear Left Standing Zone
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The hall in which he stood was filled to its brim with wretch's, scum and villains; a lower class of people. Tye allowed his red, cybernetic eye to scan the room in quick fashion, something he was not a fan of doing with his implants only really being there out of necessity rather than by choice. The large group before him were armed to the teeth, most with some sort of sword or gun. Callahan dropped his gaze to his bandage wrapped fists and a smile curled upon his normally stoic face. He cracked his knuckles in satisfaction, they may have fancy things but nothing was more personal than a fist to the jaw. Nothing more testing of a man's true nature. Tye had not formally dressed up for the occasion; as his usual attire was generally smart casual anyway, a nice white shirt, usually stained with blood, a black button down vest and pants. His eyes flickered to the stage as his new employer began to speak.
Callahan was under know delusions as to what he had been contracted to do, it was something that he had been paid to do for most of his life; he was going to be paid to hurt someone, that's just what he did. Still, regardless of the fact, this new employer did seem impassioned, more so than most. He must be desperate to reach his goal for him to assemble such a cabal of dark characters as his own personal work force. The man was bloodthirsty, a feeling Tye could spot from a mile away. It was a feeling he himself was born with on Mars. It was feeling that probably most of the other savages in the room with them all knew so well.
With the session concluded, people, if you could actually call them that, began to file out of the room, no doubt to get drunk or get into a fight. Silently, Tye wondered if any of those men and women would finally be the ones to test him, he doubted it somehow. To hazard a guess, most of them would be dead from infighting within the first month of the insurgency. Even though most were leaving, Callahan remained. He knew that their employers words could easily sway the men but it would be his quiet actions in the presence of others that would show the Brutal Artist just what his new boss was about and just what exactly he had planned.</s>
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